I would say I'm more to play a longer game of unrelenting evidence building up two years, then when it all comes out, do what you said. But there are two problems: 1: attention spans are too short and people want everything now, when we have a court system that takes time. 2) This gives Biden's handlers more than enough time to Hillary the right people as well as bury or destroy the evidence.
Strategically speaking, as much as I hate Biden, the real truth and result at this point needs to be classified. That sucks. I don't like it, but if the courts prove true fraud on a major scale, then they would have to rule in Trumps favor. The left and the media will blow up. If the rulings are simply "sit down and shut up", then the right will do the same but as a "well-armed" militia as you stated. But if lawsuits are heard, and ruled insignificant enough to change results, there will be some that will go down, enough will be in place to satisfy conservatives that it won't ever happen again, and ANTIFA will become the hated group by both sides. That honestly is the only scenario I see where the country doesn't fracture. It sucks. There will be post-election analysis that will come out very slowly, until the absolutely egregious info comes out in two years, about the the time Biden steps down, and Harris is forced to resign. Pelosi already indicated she won't run for Speaker again, as she has plans to be President or whatever. At that point, the left better have a better plan, because the right still won't accept her under any circumstances, and her draconian measures won't work outside of California. She will pardon Biden and Harris, who will go off into the sunset, and I don't even know who will be VP.
Forget Washington Times or the other rebroadcast sites in the US. Original source is: https://www.jamaicaglobalonline.com/kamala-harris-jamaican-heritage/
Here is her father's part on their family being former slave owners
KAMALA HARRIS’ JAMAICAN HERITAGE – UPDATED – 14.01.2019 by Jamaica GlobalJanuary 13, 201983250283 SHARE119 Kamala Harris
This article was updated on 14/01/2019
Any notion that California Senator Kamala Harris does not know much about, or underplays her Jamaican heritage was dispelled on a recent visit to South Florida, home to over 100,000 Jamaicans. In Miami for a fund-raiser in support of Senator Bill Nelson, she and sister Maya rubbed shoulders and posed for photos with a number of prominent Jamaican Americans, including Mayor of the City of Miramar Wayne Messam and City of Miramar Commissioner Winston Barnes among others.
In a Facebook post after the event, Barnes effused:
‘…..very special lady and as Jamaican as they come…when I asked her where her dad was from, she says St Anns Bay, so I ask, what you know about St Anns Bay..the response?’ “How you mean man? I know there growing up.”
That’s no practiced response!
Kamala Harris with Jamaican-Americans Senator Kamala Harris and sister Maya(center) pose with fellow Jamaican – Americans in Miami (Photo Courtesy of Commissioner Winston Barnes)
As the presidential buzz continues to grow around the possible candidacy of California Senator Kamala Harris, interest is also growing around her little-known Jamaican heritage. Harris has been quoted as saying she is not ruling out a bid for the Democratic nomination for the 2020 presidential election but as her stocks continue to rise the last Washington Post quarterly ranking of July 10, saw her being elevated from #4 to #3 among the possible contenders. The prospect of a woman of Jamaican heritage occupying the White House must lead a curious nation to ask: how much of an influence did her early upbringing by her Jamaican father have on the formation of her character and current world view? In this open and revealing article Donald Harris reflects on the ‘Jamaicanness’ of his daughter Kamala.
Give me a child until he is 7 and I will show you the man
ARISTOTLE
Reflections of a Jamaican Father By Donald J. Harris As a child growing up in Jamaica, I often heard it said, by my parents and family friends: “memba whe yu cum fram”. To this day, I continue to retain the deep social awareness and strong sense of identity which that grassroots Jamaican philosophy fed in me. As a father, I naturally sought to develop the same sensibility in my two daughters. Born and bred in America, Kamala was the first in line to have it planted. Maya came two years later and had the advantage of an older sibling as mentor. It is for them to say truthfully now, not me, what if anything of value they carried from that early experience into adulthood. My one big regret is that they did not come to know very well the two most influential women in my life: “Miss Chrishy” and “Miss Iris” (as everybody called them). This is, in many ways, a story about these women and the heritage they gave us.
My roots go back, within my lifetime, to my paternal grandmother Miss Chrishy (née Christiana Brown, descendant of Hamilton Brown who is on record as plantation and slave owner and founder of Brown’s Town) and to my maternal grandmother Miss Iris (née Iris Finegan, farmer and educator, from Aenon Town and Inverness, ancestry unknown to me). The Harris name comes from my paternal grandfather Joseph Alexander Harris, land-owner and agricultural ‘produce’ exporter (mostly pimento or all-spice), who died in 1939 one year after I was born and is buried in the church yard of the magnificent Anglican Church which Hamilton Brown built in Brown’s Town (and where, as a child, I learned the catechism, was baptized and confirmed, and served as an acolyte).
Both of my grandmothers had the strongest influence on my early upbringing(“not to exclude, of course, the influence of my dear mother”Miss Beryl” and loving father “Maas Oscar”).
Miss Chrishy was the disciplinarian, reserved and stern in look, firm with ‘the strap’, but capable of the most endearing and genuine acts of love, affection, and care.
Miss Chrischy - Gret Grand mother of Kamala Harris Miss Chrishy dressed up in her usual finery, standing in front of the home at Orange Hill, St Ann parish where I spent my early years
She sparked my interest in economics and politics simply by my observing and listening to her in her daily routine.
She owned and operated the popular ‘dry-goods store’ on the busy main street leading away from the famous market in the centre of Brown’s Town. Every day after school, I would go to her shop to wait for the drive home to Orange Hill after she closed the shop. It was here that she was in her groove, while engaged in lively and sometimes intense conversation with all who came into the shop about issues of the day.
Business was front and centre for her, a profession and a family tradition that she embodied and carried with purpose, commitment, pride, and dignity (next to her devotion to the church that, as she often said, her ancestor built). She never paid much attention to the business of the farm at Orange Hill. Her sons took care of that side of the family business. Her constant focus was on issues that affected her business of buying and selling imported ‘dry goods’ as well as the cost of living, issues that required understanding and keeping up with the news – a task which she pursued with gusto. She was also fully in charge of ‘domestic affairs’ in our home and, of course, had raised eight children of her own at an earlier age.
There was a daily diet of politics as well. She was a great admirer of ‘Busta’ (Sir William Alexander Bustamante, then Chief Minister in the colonial government and leader of the Jamaica Labour Party (JLP). She claimed, with conviction and pride, to be a “Labourite” (as members of the JLP were called) and for the interesting reason that, as she argued, “labour is at the heart of everything in life”. Little did I know then, what I learned later in studying economics, that my grandmother was espousing her independently discovered version of a Labour Theory of Value!
Her philanthropic side shone through every Easter and Christmas when she had my sister Enid and me package bun and cheese (a favourite Jamaican Easter fare) and other goodies in little boxes that we carried and delivered to families living in the area around our home.
She died in 1951 at the age of 70. Her departure left me, then only fourteen, with a deep sense of sadness and loss.
Miss Iris, mother of eight children too, was the sweetest and gentlest person one could meet, but underneath it was a tough farming woman who ran the cane farm at Thatch Walk (near Aenon Town) jointly owned with her husband “Mr Christie”. She was always ready to go to church on Sunday to preach and teach about the “Revelations” she saw approaching the world at that time (during and after World War II) in accord with the Bible.
I spent summers with her, roaming around the cane field, fascinated by the mechanical operation of cane ‘juicing’ by the old method (a wooden pole extended out from the grinding machine and tied to a mule walking round and round to grind the cane), and eager to drink a cup of the juice caught directly from the juice flowing into the vat to be boiled and crystallized as ‘raw sugar’. No Coke or Pepsi could beat the taste of that fresh cane juice!
It was a joy and a learning experience for me to hang out with the workers on the cane farm, see them wield a ‘cutlass’ (the machete) with such flourish and finesse, listen to their stories of exploits (some too x-rated for me to repeat), and sit with them as they prepared their meal by putting everything in one big ‘Dutch’ pot, cooking it over an open fire in the field and serving it out on a big banana leaf for all of us to eat sitting there.
Looking back now I can say, with certainty and all due credit to Miss Iris, that it was this early intimate exposure to operation of the sugar industry at the local level of small-scale production with family labour and free wage-labour, coupled with my growing curiosity about how these things came to be, that led me, once I started reading about the history of Jamaica, to a closer study of the sugar industry. I came then to understand its origin as a system of global production and commerce, based on slave labour, with Jamaica as a key component of that system from its very start.
Miss Iris died in 1981 at the grand old age of 93 and I grieved over the loss of someone so dear and close to me. She is shown here in photo (taken by me in 1966), just back from church, proudly holding in her lap little Kamala, and confident in her firm prediction even then of the future achievements of her great-granddaughter (after giving her ‘blessings’ by making a cross with her finger on the child’s forehead).
Miss Iris, Jamican Great Grand Mother of Kamala Harris Miss Iris with great Granddaughter Kamala
From the start, I strived to retrace for my children the path on which I had traveled: from Miss Judah’s primary school at Top Road in Brown’s Town to Park School ‘Elementary’ just around the corner, to Titchfield High in Port Antonio, to University College of the West Indies (UCWI) then to Berkeley where Kamala was born, to Illinois where Maya was born, and subsequently to Cambridge University, Wisconsin, Yale, and Stanford.
Throughout this retracing, my message to them, from the lessons I had learned along the way, was that the sky is the limit on what one can achieve with effort and determination and that, in this process, it is important not to lose sight of those who get left behind by social neglect or abuse and lack of access to resources or ‘privilege’; also not to get ‘swell-headed’ (a favourite expression and command of Miss Chrishy); and that it is important to ‘give back’ with service to some greater cause than oneself.
DONALD HARRIS Experiencing their Jamaican heritage In their early years, I tried to convey this message in very concrete terms, through frequent visits to Jamaica and engaging life there in all its richness and complexity. In Brown’s Town, we walked the streets during ‘market day’, chatted up the ‘higglers’ in the market and were rewarded with plenty of ‘brawta’ (Jamaican word for bonus offerings) in naseberries, mangoes and guinep after each purchase. We checked out the location of the old Park School which had become transformed into Brown’s Town Comprehensive High School, strolled into St. Mark’s Church and graveyard, and traversed the road up the hill to Orange Hill where my uncle Newton had taken over the family property and started a limestone mining and brick producing operation in addition to the cattle, grass, fruit and pimento farming of earlier times.
Images of Brown’s Town courtesy of Bruce T Photography
We drove up to Thatch Walk and worked our way, with lots of cuts and bruises, through the same cane fields where Miss Iris had run a thriving business in the ‘good ole days’ of sugar and, a long time before, had probably been part of a slave plantation. We played around on the lovely white sand of the beach at Dry Harbour and in the forceful but soothing waters of the world famous Dunns River Falls.
In Kingston, we visited the campus of the former UCWI, today The University of the West Indies ranked in the top 5% of world universities (in my role then as member of the faculty) to view its remarkable physical setting in the misty morning light, the buildings comfortably spread out over the vast lands of the Mona Commons and against the imposing backdrop of the Blue Mountains.
In Port Antonio we visited my high school alma mater at Titchfield, still sitting there (as a powerful symbol of the privileged system of education that existed before the progressive reforms of the Manley era) at the end of the little peninsula overlooking Navy Island and in the historic setting of an ancient battery and ca
Each state is given the right to conduct elections as they want. Federal has no say in it. The Constitution is clear on that point. It keeps the federal government from corrupting it. That being said, it took the mail-in states YEARS to work out how to do mail-in ballots that were valid. Mass-mailing ballots is the easiest way to expect corruption, and even foreign influence. It is nearly impossible to track and validate. NYC is a great example, as many of the rich left NYC at the start of Covid-19 to go to their other homes. They aren't coming back. Their mail is sent to their NYC address. Unless they pay a BUNCH more, standard mailers are not forwarded, such as those they sent about ballots. So now these named ballots are in whose hands? It is a huge problem that could cause extreme problems.
For the sake of history, if it is taken down, here is the copy/paste from the article KAMALA HARRIS’ JAMAICAN HERITAGE – UPDATED – 14.01.2019 by Jamaica GlobalJanuary 13, 201983250283 SHARE119 Kamala Harris
This article was updated on 14/01/2019
Any notion that California Senator Kamala Harris does not know much about, or underplays her Jamaican heritage was dispelled on a recent visit to South Florida, home to over 100,000 Jamaicans. In Miami for a fund-raiser in support of Senator Bill Nelson, she and sister Maya rubbed shoulders and posed for photos with a number of prominent Jamaican Americans, including Mayor of the City of Miramar Wayne Messam and City of Miramar Commissioner Winston Barnes among others.
In a Facebook post after the event, Barnes effused:
‘…..very special lady and as Jamaican as they come…when I asked her where her dad was from, she says St Anns Bay, so I ask, what you know about St Anns Bay..the response?’ “How you mean man? I know there growing up.”
That’s no practiced response!
Kamala Harris with Jamaican-Americans Senator Kamala Harris and sister Maya(center) pose with fellow Jamaican – Americans in Miami (Photo Courtesy of Commissioner Winston Barnes)
As the presidential buzz continues to grow around the possible candidacy of California Senator Kamala Harris, interest is also growing around her little-known Jamaican heritage. Harris has been quoted as saying she is not ruling out a bid for the Democratic nomination for the 2020 presidential election but as her stocks continue to rise the last Washington Post quarterly ranking of July 10, saw her being elevated from #4 to #3 among the possible contenders. The prospect of a woman of Jamaican heritage occupying the White House must lead a curious nation to ask: how much of an influence did her early upbringing by her Jamaican father have on the formation of her character and current world view? In this open and revealing article Donald Harris reflects on the ‘Jamaicanness’ of his daughter Kamala.
Give me a child until he is 7 and I will show you the man
ARISTOTLE
Reflections of a Jamaican Father By Donald J. Harris As a child growing up in Jamaica, I often heard it said, by my parents and family friends: “memba whe yu cum fram”. To this day, I continue to retain the deep social awareness and strong sense of identity which that grassroots Jamaican philosophy fed in me. As a father, I naturally sought to develop the same sensibility in my two daughters. Born and bred in America, Kamala was the first in line to have it planted. Maya came two years later and had the advantage of an older sibling as mentor. It is for them to say truthfully now, not me, what if anything of value they carried from that early experience into adulthood. My one big regret is that they did not come to know very well the two most influential women in my life: “Miss Chrishy” and “Miss Iris” (as everybody called them). This is, in many ways, a story about these women and the heritage they gave us.
My roots go back, within my lifetime, to my paternal grandmother Miss Chrishy (née Christiana Brown, descendant of Hamilton Brown who is on record as plantation and slave owner and founder of Brown’s Town) and to my maternal grandmother Miss Iris (née Iris Finegan, farmer and educator, from Aenon Town and Inverness, ancestry unknown to me). The Harris name comes from my paternal grandfather Joseph Alexander Harris, land-owner and agricultural ‘produce’ exporter (mostly pimento or all-spice), who died in 1939 one year after I was born and is buried in the church yard of the magnificent Anglican Church which Hamilton Brown built in Brown’s Town (and where, as a child, I learned the catechism, was baptized and confirmed, and served as an acolyte).
Both of my grandmothers had the strongest influence on my early upbringing(“not to exclude, of course, the influence of my dear mother”Miss Beryl” and loving father “Maas Oscar”).
Miss Chrishy was the disciplinarian, reserved and stern in look, firm with ‘the strap’, but capable of the most endearing and genuine acts of love, affection, and care.
Miss Chrischy - Gret Grand mother of Kamala Harris Miss Chrishy dressed up in her usual finery, standing in front of the home at Orange Hill, St Ann parish where I spent my early years
She sparked my interest in economics and politics simply by my observing and listening to her in her daily routine.
She owned and operated the popular ‘dry-goods store’ on the busy main street leading away from the famous market in the centre of Brown’s Town. Every day after school, I would go to her shop to wait for the drive home to Orange Hill after she closed the shop. It was here that she was in her groove, while engaged in lively and sometimes intense conversation with all who came into the shop about issues of the day.
Business was front and centre for her, a profession and a family tradition that she embodied and carried with purpose, commitment, pride, and dignity (next to her devotion to the church that, as she often said, her ancestor built). She never paid much attention to the business of the farm at Orange Hill. Her sons took care of that side of the family business. Her constant focus was on issues that affected her business of buying and selling imported ‘dry goods’ as well as the cost of living, issues that required understanding and keeping up with the news – a task which she pursued with gusto. She was also fully in charge of ‘domestic affairs’ in our home and, of course, had raised eight children of her own at an earlier age.
There was a daily diet of politics as well. She was a great admirer of ‘Busta’ (Sir William Alexander Bustamante, then Chief Minister in the colonial government and leader of the Jamaica Labour Party (JLP). She claimed, with conviction and pride, to be a “Labourite” (as members of the JLP were called) and for the interesting reason that, as she argued, “labour is at the heart of everything in life”. Little did I know then, what I learned later in studying economics, that my grandmother was espousing her independently discovered version of a Labour Theory of Value!
Her philanthropic side shone through every Easter and Christmas when she had my sister Enid and me package bun and cheese (a favourite Jamaican Easter fare) and other goodies in little boxes that we carried and delivered to families living in the area around our home.
She died in 1951 at the age of 70. Her departure left me, then only fourteen, with a deep sense of sadness and loss.
Miss Iris, mother of eight children too, was the sweetest and gentlest person one could meet, but underneath it was a tough farming woman who ran the cane farm at Thatch Walk (near Aenon Town) jointly owned with her husband “Mr Christie”. She was always ready to go to church on Sunday to preach and teach about the “Revelations” she saw approaching the world at that time (during and after World War II) in accord with the Bible.
I spent summers with her, roaming around the cane field, fascinated by the mechanical operation of cane ‘juicing’ by the old method (a wooden pole extended out from the grinding machine and tied to a mule walking round and round to grind the cane), and eager to drink a cup of the juice caught directly from the juice flowing into the vat to be boiled and crystallized as ‘raw sugar’. No Coke or Pepsi could beat the taste of that fresh cane juice!
It was a joy and a learning experience for me to hang out with the workers on the cane farm, see them wield a ‘cutlass’ (the machete) with such flourish and finesse, listen to their stories of exploits (some too x-rated for me to repeat), and sit with them as they prepared their meal by putting everything in one big ‘Dutch’ pot, cooking it over an open fire in the field and serving it out on a big banana leaf for all of us to eat sitting there.
Looking back now I can say, with certainty and all due credit to Miss Iris, that it was this early intimate exposure to operation of the sugar industry at the local level of small-scale production with family labour and free wage-labour, coupled with my growing curiosity about how these things came to be, that led me, once I started reading about the history of Jamaica, to a closer study of the sugar industry. I came then to understand its origin as a system of global production and commerce, based on slave labour, with Jamaica as a key component of that system from its very start.
Miss Iris died in 1981 at the grand old age of 93 and I grieved over the loss of someone so dear and close to me. She is shown here in photo (taken by me in 1966), just back from church, proudly holding in her lap little Kamala, and confident in her firm prediction even then of the future achievements of her great-granddaughter (after giving her ‘blessings’ by making a cross with her finger on the child’s forehead).
Miss Iris, Jamican Great Grand Mother of Kamala Harris Miss Iris with great Granddaughter Kamala
From the start, I strived to retrace for my children the path on which I had traveled: from Miss Judah’s primary school at Top Road in Brown’s Town to Park School ‘Elementary’ just around the corner, to Titchfield High in Port Antonio, to University College of the West Indies (UCWI) then to Berkeley where Kamala was born, to Illinois where Maya was born, and subsequently to Cambridge University, Wisconsin, Yale, and Stanford.
Throughout this retracing, my message to them, from the lessons I had learned along the way, was that the sky is the limit on what one can achieve with effort and determination and that, in this process, it is important not to lose sight of those who get left behind by social neglect or abuse and lack of access to resources or ‘privilege’; also not to get ‘swell-headed’ (a favourite expression and command of Miss Chrishy); and that it is important to ‘give back’ with service to some greater cause than oneself.
DONALD HARRIS Experiencing their Jamaican heritage In their early years, I tried to convey this message in very concrete terms, through frequent visits to Jamaica and engaging life there in all its richness and complexity. In Brown’s Town, we walked the streets during ‘market day’, chatted up the ‘higglers’ in the market and were rewarded with plenty of ‘brawta’ (Jamaican word for bonus offerings) in naseberries, mangoes and guinep after each purchase. We checked out the location of the old Park School which had become transformed into Brown’s Town Comprehensive High School, strolled into St. Mark’s Church and graveyard, and traversed the road up the hill to Orange Hill where my uncle Newton had taken over the family property and started a limestone mining and brick producing operation in addition to the cattle, grass, fruit and pimento farming of earlier times.
Images of Brown’s Town courtesy of Bruce T Photography
We drove up to Thatch Walk and worked our way, with lots of cuts and bruises, through the same cane fields where Miss Iris had run a thriving business in the ‘good ole days’ of sugar and, a long time before, had probably been part of a slave plantation. We played around on the lovely white sand of the beach at Dry Harbour and in the forceful but soothing waters of the world famous Dunns River Falls.
In Kingston, we visited the campus of the former UCWI, today The University of the West Indies ranked in the top 5% of world universities (in my role then as member of the faculty) to view its remarkable physical setting in the misty morning light, the buildings comfortably spread out over the vast lands of the Mona Commons and against the imposing backdrop of the Blue Mountains.
In Port Antonio we visited my high school alma mater at Titchfield, still sitting there (as a powerful symbol of the privileged system of education that existed before the progressive reforms of the Manley era) at the end of the little peninsula overlooking Navy Island and in the historic setting of an ancie
I was in a “discussion” today and several asked me to prove that PP was based on eugenics. Being liberal friends, I took the time to find an academically peer-reviewed 34 page paper that discussed the several years before and into PP with Sanger. Then rather than fight it, they just verbally attacked me. Smh.
The issue isn’t really in border counties. The issue is in those islands of San Antonio, Austin, Dallas, and Houston where Democrats have grown and obviously the major populations in the state. But seriously, conservatives are MUCH less likely to respond to a poll.
That’s hilarious. I thought thebTrump lawyers actually were quite brilliant. They broken down false evidence until there was no more evidence to be found. Kind of like a trial, where evidence is shown. Hmmmm.