Yes we did it, we talked the talk and now Trump is talking the walk. Only a week has gone by and President Trump (doesn’t that sound good?) has instituted several measures through the use of “Executive Orders.” He had a good teacher, Barack Hussein Obama. Obama’s rule was best described as a dictatorial in your face like it or not. Most if not all of his actions were partisan; Not one Republican signed on to Obamacare. That is where the problem lies, what can be done by one man can be outdone by one man. Orders were given this week by Trump to eviscerate the individual mandate sending a shiv right into Obama’s heart. By no means is this the end, but the beginning.
Orders went out to prevent citizens from several countries, mostly Muslim, to enter the United States. Of course there were cries from the far left. Their concern was that Trump was singling out Muslims. Iran, Iraq, Syria, Sudan, Libya, Yemen and Somalia topped the list. Referring to Christians Trump said, “We are going to help them.” “They’ve been horribly treated. Do you know if you were a Christian in Syria it was impossible, at least very tough, to get into the United States?”
He didn’t stop there by including countries south of the border, including Mexico, Honduras, El Salvador and more. He knows who commits the most crime in America. This is no laughing matter. United States agencies, sanctuary cities, judges and other law enforcement officers (get it – law enforcement officers – that is a misnomer if we every saw one, either fail to enforce the law or maximize sentences or kick the criminals out for good. How can we be safe if illegal criminals continue to live here.
However, this is the start, it gets better. For instance, orders were put out to stop the global warmers at the EPA fro talking climate change. From the past anecdotal evidence public comments were biased, facts skewed and agenda pushed. Those with facts contradicting the warmers were silenced or fired. Big Government was silenced too; orders went out regarding a hiring freeze. Regarding Obamacare, all public relations, public announcements and such were to be vetted before issued. See below for the edict given to “SQUEAKY”
From “Will There Be An Internal Revolt Against Trump?” by Tevi Troy, in the February issue of Commentary:
My first face-to-face encounter with the federal bureaucracy came on January 22, 2001. I was the deputy director of a “parachute team” for incoming president George W. Bush, and our job was to “secure the beachhead” at the Department of Labor on the first day of the new administration. (The political realm loves to borrow military metaphors.) That meant stopping the department from issuing guidance, rules, and statements that reflected the views of the departing Clinton administration. The most important tactical objective in this mission, we were told, was this: Secure the fax machine! (It was 2001, after all.) At that time, there was one specially designated fax machine used to send new regulatory language to the Federal Register, which publishes all newly minted regulations. There was a bureaucrat I’ll call Mitchell Sykes whose job it was to man that fax machine. We were to find Sykes and stop him from doing anything.
We were barely in the door when the cultural differences between the federal bureaucracy and the rest of America became apparent. We arrived at 8 a.m. The vast majority of career officials, we learned, did not arrive at 8 a.m. So we had trouble finding Mitchell Sykes. We began asking around and were met with shrugs and unknowing looks. The director of the parachute team began to grow agitated. His face reddened, his voice rose, and he slammed the table once or twice. Finally, well after 10, more than two hours after we had first arrived, we were told that Mitchell Sykes was outside our office. With great anticipation, we looked to the door to catch our first glimpse of the all-powerful bureaucratic potentate, the man who controlled the entire Federal Register for the $12 billion, 17,000-strong behemoth called the Department of Labor. And in walked . . . a nebbish. Balding, bespectacled, with J.C. Penney slacks hiked up above his waist. In a somewhat high-pitched voice, he introduced himself: “Hi, I’m Mitchell.”
The parachute team director looked at him and hesitated a moment, wondering if this could really be the man we were seeking, then asked, “Are you Mitchell Sykes?”
“Yes,” he responded meekly.
The director said: “I want you to stop sending all regulations to the Federal Register right now.”
“OK,” Sykes squeaked.