Cagle World

There are four holidays that occur in quick succession and symbolize our love of country: Memorial Day, D-Day, Flag Day and July Fourth.

The first and the last are the most important, because they commemorate those who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country, and those who created this beloved nation at great risk to themselves. That’s why it’s always demoralizing to see how they’ve been reduced, in large part, to beach and barbecue holidays with a sprinkling of testimonials to the true spirit of the moment.

Of the other two, D-Day is the least acknowledged, except among that tiny and ever dwindling group of people who hear the phrase “Omaha Beach,” and understand. My mother’s cousin, Adolph Pace, parachuted onto the beaches of Normandy, and his bride turned that parachute into her wedding dress when he came home.

And Flag Day? It’s not much of a stretch to wear something red, white and blue on the day, and it’s nice to reflect on its symbolism, and yes Betsy Ross appreciates a visit if you happen to be in Philly, but of the four it’s the least important.

But I truly do love this month-and-a-half long stretch where we remember, celebrate and protect our identity as Americans. Because other countries are bound by blood, language, culture and in many cases DNA. All we have is aspiration.

We aspire to be what Reagan called a “Shining City on a Hill.” That didn’t used to be considered hokey, naive or offensive. That described us perfectly, people who wanted to be on top of the human mountain.

Sadly, both progressives and conservatives have lost sight of the message.

As a registered Republican who embraced the GOP after decades of grappling with my moral compass as a Democrat, I used to have the zeal of a convert. I was so proud to belong to the party that oversaw, along with a pope and an Iron Lady, the destruction of communism. I was so happy to be a member of a party where — with very few exceptions — men and women believed in the sanctity of unborn human life.

But I don’t exactly recognize that party today.

The tone deaf sound of “America First” has replaced the rich anthem of American exceptionalism where not only is legal immigration a virtue and a gift, but using our own blood and treasure to protect our allies is an obligation.

Those we remember in Memorial Day did not die on these shores. They made the ultimate sacrifice in foreign lands, far from their mothers’ embrace and their fathers’ proud gaze. They did it to preserve our greatest export: democracy.

And immigrants? They were always “us,” our grandparents and great grandparents, many of whom came legally, some of whom did not.

Now, they are “them,” unless they are South African farmers who made a deal with the White House. It’s an oversimplification to say all immigrants are good, because there are in fact many multitudes who are mediocre. That’s human nature.

But shifting our default position from “welcome, make our country better” to “find another destination, we don’t want you” is tragic. In fact, those exact words were used by President Donald Trump last week.

But at least I can have conversations with conservatives. Progressives are convinced that the country is lost.

So many are rushing to obtain new passports from other countries in the same way a Kardashian buys a new handbag.

It’s acquisition for the sake of looking better than geopolitical virtue signaling. It’s not about loving the ancestral home, in so many of these cases. It’s about hating on the one in which they were born.

I’m embarrassed and angry by some of the MAGA excesses, including what I believe to be cruel acts spring from the toxic cesspool of Stephen Miller’s mind. But I’m not embarrassed by my country. I’d never leave it for greener pastures, because quite frankly there are none.

I have no real home these days. Politically I am much more comfortable on the right, but it’s far from a perfect fit.

There is a jingoism I see and hear in former comrades that shocks me. And when they try and say it’s all about “America First,” I turn them off.

But the anti-Americanism of the left bleeds into antisemitism. And to me, that is worse than anything I see and hear on the right.

It is a bigotry of such obvious contours and heavy proportions that I want nothing to do with those who exploit the children of Gaza for their own political advantage.

So here I am, honoring the fallen who sacrificed for a country they would not recognize.

Here I am, remembering my cousin and his comrades, who saved the free world with their bodies on the beaches. Here, raising the flag and visiting Betsy.

And then thanking the flawed but godly and magnificent men who created glory out of chaos.

The rest of you can figure it out on your own.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

I have watched with bemusement as some Democrats have excused, justified or otherwise supported the so-called “peaceful protests” in Los Angeles and elsewhere around the country.

They have seen cars burning, police attacked and property vandalized, and have been able to dismiss these things as “aberrations.”

They have been aided and assisted in this by many in the media, especially the legacy media, who had the same reaction when Black Lives Matter protesters burned down cities, destroyed businesses and caused the death of at least one police officer.

At one level, I admire their chutzpah.

The ability to tell us what is happening before our very eyes is not happening at all is an admirable exercise in Orwellian doublespeak, immortalized in the phrase “The party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”

Having lived through the BLM monstrosities, this is not at all surprising. It is, however, a sad commentary on the mediocrity of our press, our civil society activists and our political leaders. Fool us once, shame on you as our cities are illuminated in flames. Fool us twice, shame on us, for not shutting you down.

I will say that I felt a similar sort of anger towards conservatives when I watched the creeping spin they put on Jan. 6.

To this day, I have friends who insist that it wasn’t a riot, and that the people who crashed through the Capitol doors, rushed through its hallways and defecated in some of its offices were really “peaceful.”

They were not peaceful. They were vicious animals, and they should not have been pardoned.

And yet, you will not hear the left agree the assaults on our cities were as dangerous and toxic as the riot on Jan. 6. They will continue to argue the latter was worse, because it involved a coup d’etat.

I think they are melodramatic drama queens who are exploiting the desperate and disorganized acts of angry people.

The only difference between what happened on Jan 6 and what happened during BLM and what is now happening in L.A. is there were no congressional hearings convened about the destruction caused by George Floyd loyalists, and there will likely be no congressional hearings for the rabid activists intent on “eliminating ICE.”

If you listen to the language of the protesters in L.A., it is not — contrary to what the talking heads on CNN argue — peaceful. It is reactionary, and it is vicious, and it is dripping with hatred against government agents.

That should frighten all of us who believe all riots are the same, because they conjure the worst characteristics of humanity and make them manifest in actions. The motivations don’t matter. The end results do.

Sadly, some Democrats believe there are some groups that have no right to protest.

If you oppose ICE, you can throw those Molotov cocktails. If you hate the police, including the ones who never put a knee on George Floyd’s neck, you can set their vehicles on fire and dox their families.

But if you are a grandmother praying the rosary in front of an abortion clinic, or if you are a teenager standing quietly in prayer in front of Planned Parenthood, or if you are a member of Students for Life and set up a table at a local college, you are fair game.

You can be attacked, arrested, and your tables can be destroyed by tenured professors.

You think that is an exaggeration? All of it has happened, some of it in Philadelphia, my beloved home.

Fortunately, last week, Congress finally did something worthwhile.

A House committee voted to eliminate the FACE Act, which has been used for the past 30 years to terrify and persecute pro-lifers by charging them with federal crimes for blocking access to clinics. No violence was necessary for the federal indictments, and the ensuing prison sentences.

If you prevented a woman from making her way into a clinic, you could have ended up in a maximum security facility. If you were a father of seven who was simply trying to protect his son from being harassed by a violent pro-abortion activist, you were in danger of having a SWAT team descend on your home.

If the full Congress agrees with the House Judiciary Committee, those days are over.

The overwhelmingly peaceful protests from pro-life activists will be protected. And perhaps the talking heads on TV will acknowledge that perhaps the laws should come down at least as harshly on radicals with blowtorches as they have on grandmothers with prayer books.

Better yet, perhaps they will call a riot a riot, and stop treating us to a master class in Orwell.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

From my earliest childhood, I attended the Mummer’s Parade in Philadelphia every New Year’s day, watching husky fellows with banjos, full-face makeup and glitter sashay down Broad Street.

It’s a tradition that, while difficult to explain to out-of-towners, is near and dear to our Quaker City hearts.

I also had a platonic crush on Geraldine, the Flip Wilson character with the fabulous hair and legs that looked better on him than on practically every woman I’ve ever encountered.

I even had a vague and extremely brief passing interest in Ru Paul, who mainstreamed the whole idea of men stealing their wives’ lingerie and prancing around in public.

But I draw the line at Drag Queen Story Hour. Several years ago I wrote the following when our local library decided to set up just one such event:

“No child should be forced to confront radical ideas and controversial social movements before they are able to use the potty by themselves… This is a time when the little ones should be held in their mothers’ laps, sipping chocolate milk or juice, or for the more boring, water, from their sippy cups and become mesmerized by the magic of carefully chosen words. This is not a time when some man in spandex, tulle and glitter should be confusing them with the sight of a dude with an Adam’sApple and well-developed biceps touching up his makeup and hitching up his brassiere.”

That opinion was not appreciated in 2019. It is likely not going to be appreciated today, even in the wake of some radical shifts in our conception of what a woman really is.

But I still feel the same way: Children should not be guinea pigs in our adult social experiments, which brings me up to 2025.

The Philadelphia Zoo canceled plans to hold an animal-themed Drag Queen Story Hour — my lord, the jokes write themselves — in honor of Pride Month. The official reason that was given involved safety concerns.

I actually doubt that this was the case. It’s highly unlikely that cross-dressing Miss Rachaels would pose a serious threat to the public.

I think it has more to do with the idea that the zoo is on private property, owned by the Philadelphia Zoological Society, and some of the board members agree with me that the only sort of queens little toddlers should be exposed to are floating around at Disney World, or in some enchanted forest.

That’s not bigotry, although I expect the “homophobe” accusations will come out flying.

No matter how evolved you want to be, no 3-year-old should have to figure out why the person who sounds like daddy but looks and smells like mommy — unless mommy is a fashion misfit like yours truly — is reading them a story about rainbows and unicorns.

We might think that it would wash right over their heads and that they would just enjoy hearing the stories.

But given the increasing willingness to allow children to define their own gender identity at increasingly earlier stages, I’m not so sure this isn’t adults trying to graft their own priorities onto children.

I had a problem years ago when the Boy Scouts were sued by the City of Philadelphia because they would not allow openly gay scouts or scout leaders to be members.

My point then, and my point now, is that there are environments where sexual orientation and gender identification are entirely irrelevant to the mission, especially if that mission involves children.

Learning how to light a campfire or tie a square knot is legitimate kid stuff. Learning about Peppa Pig’s pronouns, is not.

So the whole zoo hullabaloo is just another example of adults trying to insert themselves into the magical world of children.

Or to paraphrase Geraldine, “The devil if you make me do it!”

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

When the Tufts student was arrested by ICE for an op-ed she wrote condemning Israel, many protested the “criminalization” of words.

“She just wrote a column,” they said.

As someone who makes a living choosing the correct words to persuade people to my point of view, whether it be on social media or in the courtroom, I’m extremely skittish about telling someone else how to use them, and how to express themselves.

But words can be weapons. They can desensitize us to the humanity of people. Nazis did that with the use of the word “swine” to describe Jews. Words have inherent power.

We call Gazans by these words: “babies,” “mothers,” “children,” “victims.”

Many called the victims of Oct. 7th “Zionists” or “music festival attendees.”

You can see the way that society moves us in one direction, or another, by the words we use to define people.

When you strip humans of their dignity, as when you call an unborn child a “fetus,” you establish a precedent that makes them “less than.” And you cannot then feign surprise or abdicate responsibility for the brutal consequences.

I said this when Donald Trump was almost assassinated in Butler last year. I read through the comments made about him over the months leading up to the election, and while some were the innocuous blather of people with too much time and free Wi-Fi, some of it was chilling.

I said then that words, used in a strategic manner, can kill as neatly and as cleanly as the bullets they set in motion.

We saw that again, in a particularly tragic way, last week.

Two employees at the Israeli Embassy in D.C. were shot to death by a man who then used these words: “Free Palestine, Free, Free Palestine!”

Their names were Sarah Lynn Milgram and Yaron Lischinsky. Sarah was 26. Yaron was 30.

They were in love, and Yaron had bought an engagement ring to give Sarah. Now they will likely be buried together.

Words did not kill them directly. The bullets from the gun fired by a man who I will not name, did that. But words were the propulsant behind the hatred, and the hatred moved the killer, and the killer shot the gun.

We have dismissed what some have called “soft antisemitism” as mere “anti Zionism.” We have pretended that being against Israel is not the same thing as being against Jews.

We all know what they are doing when they criticize Israel, and remain silent about Hamas.

We all know what they are doing when they mourn the deaths of children in Gaza and barely mention the children murdered alongside of their parents on Oct. 7.

We all know what they are doing when they define legitimate acts of defense by a country that has been under attack since the very moment of its creation as “genocide.”

And we know what they are doing when they scream, or timidly whisper at suburban cocktail parties, “Free, Free Palestine.”

They are quite simply focusing a scope against every person who identifies as Jewish in this country, and in the greater world.

I am a Catholic. My antennae are finely attuned to anti-Catholicism, which is on the rise. I even see it from some of the Jewish acquaintances I meet, who bemoan the fact that “we” want to “convert” them, as if we all descended from Torquemada.

That is a form of anti-Catholicism that will never disappear, and I have reconciled myself to the fact that there will always be people who suspect us of the sins of our fathers.

But I do not walk the streets in fear. I have purchased beautiful lace veils that I wear at Mass to let people know who I am andwhat I profess. I am very proud of my heritage and my faith.

Most of my Jewish friends have to think a moment before fastening that Star of David at their throats, or putting on the yarmulke.

And the fact that most of them still do those things, in public affirmation of their identity, is a tribute to their courage in this climate. But the fact that they need to hesitate is the shame.

And that is due uniquely to words, words used as weapons, as disinformation, as dehumanization, as the precursor to bullets.

Until we acknowledge that and stop allowing the Free Palestine movement to keep replenishing their arsenal with dangerous words, we will have more Yarons and Sarahs, joined not in life but in eternity.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

I am writing this column on an Amtrak train to Newark. My destination is immigration court, where I will try and obtain asylum for an abused woman from Central America. So you can imagine that I have more than a little interest in the topic of refugees.

That’s why my antenna went up when I heard about the small group of Afrikaners from South Africa who, according to trustworthy reports, have been given expedited processing as … refugees.

The mainstream media, much of which is Trump-phobic, has made it a point of mentioning that the Afrikaners are white, which is self-evident to anyone who understands South African history. They are the descendants of Dutch settlers who instituted the evil policy of Apartheid, which enslaved generations of non-white Africans.

There is nothing that can ever justify a regime that in many ways mirrored the race laws of Weimar Republic Germany.

It is possible that the Afrikaners who were given preferred status by our government were alive during Apartheid and even contributed to it, since the regime only ended 30 years ago.

It is even probable that the majority of the refugees benefited from the bloody and horrific crimes of the South African government, which dehumanized an entire race of indigenous people. As such, it is extremely difficult to have any sympathy for them. I don’t.

And I am outraged that they have been given preferential status over Afghans, Sudanese and many other populations that have been told their applications for refugee admission have been put on an indefinite hold.

Trump either does not know, or does not care, that giving special preference to affluent white landowners, many of whom are farmers whose lands were appropriated by the post-Apartheid government in an attempt to make amends for generations of racial injustice, looks really bad.

These are not men and women who were political dissidents like Alexei Navalny. They are not people who fought for religious freedom like the Roman Catholic priests rotting in the jails of Nicaragua. Or for a more apt parallel, these are not indigenous land rights activists like Berta Caceres from Honduras who was gunned down because of her activism.

These are people who can’t deal with the fact that they no longer have power in a country where they wielded it for generations, with impunity. That is not, to my mind, a refugee.

On the other hand, there is credible evidence that radical anti-white zealots like Julius Makena have openly called for the murder of Afrikaner farmers, and that he has a substantial following.

There have been incidents of violence against whites, again mostly landowners who are fighting back against attempts to appropriate their lands. This seems to be much more along the lines of private criminal activity, something which has rarely been accepted as a ground for asylum.

For example, extortion by private gangs is virtually never recognized as a basis for granting asylum.

Nonetheless, I’m not opposed to giving these individuals an opportunity to plead their cases. They may very well qualify as refugees under the law, and their race and affluence should not be held against them. That is the definition of racism.

But the obscenity and the hypocrisy in all of this is the Trump administration’s willingness to protect white descendants of Apartheid’s beneficiaries while at the same time freezing the refugee admissions of people of color, many of whom, like the Afghans, assisted the U.S. during the war.

How can any decent American justify that? That is also, to my mind, the definition of racism.

But perhaps this anomaly will shed light on the random and inequitable system of justice provided under our immigration laws.

Maybe, just maybe, this will trigger an understanding that no matter who you are, regardless of race or economic status or gender, the laws should be blind when assessing your right to protection.

You’re a white farmer with a sordid history but your life is in danger? Okay, we’ll consider your claim.

You’re a poor Latina whose husband, a police officer, raped you and your life is in danger? Okay, we’ll consider your claim and we won’t turn you back at the border.

You’re a gay hairdresser from Venezuela with tattoos? Okay, we’ll consider your claim and we won’t just deport you to a notorious prison in El Salvador.

If the white farmers get a pass, the rest of the world deserves equal consideration.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

“Little House on the Prairie” was never one of my favorite television shows for a very specific reason: The series of books about a pioneer girl and her family, written by Laura Ingalls Wilder, was in fact one of my favorite pieces of literature.

I spent hours in the early 1970s devouring the autobiographical children’s stories and had a very specific idea of what “my” Laura looked and sounded like. That is the beauty of the written word: You get to create your own vision of the characters and aren’t constrained by Hollywood’s Velveeta version of authentic Gruyère.

So when I saw Melissa Gilbert in the role of my beloved heroine, I wasn’t impressed. Freckles, auburn hair — not the “mousy brown” of the book — and unusually prominent orthodontia shattered my image of the plucky Miss Ingalls.

Nonetheless, I was a faithful viewer for its almost decades-long run, simply because there weren’t that many wholesome depictions of children’s literature on network prime time.

A few years ago, I found Melissa Gilbert, now a grandmother, on Instagram and decided to follow her for old time’s sake.

That was a mistake. Whatever residual affection I had for her from our first encounter 50 years ago evaporated when I started reading her overtly political posts.

Laura hated Republicans? Laura supported abortion rights? Laura had rainbow flags and thought boys should be in girls’ bathroom spaces?

And then she, a Jewish woman, comes out suggesting rather forcefully that I, a Catholic woman, should be offended by a comical albeit tasteless AI image of Donald Trump as Pope?

This woman, who lavished praise on “Catholic” Joe Biden, a man who blithely took communion while lobbying for a constitutional right to abortion was telling me I had to be upset about a meme?

Unfollowed immediately, but not after trolling her for a week.

Alas, I didn’t get that opportunity with Valerie Bertinelli. She blocked me first.

A couple of years ago, I found the ’70s child star on social media, surrounded by her cats and pushing the Italian recipes from her nonna. This is promising, I thought.

I’d always had a girl crush on Barbara Cooper from “One Day At A Time,” wanted her hair, her wit, her decidedly unchubby figure in those unforgiving years, and her charm. Here, I figured, was a way to become “friends” without actually delving into stalker territory.

At first, it was fun. She had aged like Melissa Gilbert, put on a few pounds and, at almost my exact age, was experiencing similar post menopausal angst.

But then she started hyperventilating about Donald Trump, which morphed into anger at Republicans, which devolved into not-so-subtle digs against people who follow dictators: me, Val? Me?

And she, of course, also pushed forcefully for abortion rights, was big on #MeToo and BLM and showed all of us that Barbara Cooper was a card carrying member of The Resistance. I suppose we should have figured that out back in 1975 when she had a shrine to Elton John.

I once pushed back on one of her political screeds and — “pouf!” — she was gone from my feed.

The irony is I met her a few years later when she came to a local bookstore with her newest cookbook, stood in a very long line for about an hour, and got her to sign the thing. She was all smiles.

Barbara Cooper had no idea that she had met the enemy and it was, to paraphrase FDR, me.

You might ask why I care. Why does it matter what strangers who I’ll likely never meet — unless they write a cookbook — think of me? It’s a good question. And the simple answer is, it doesn’t.

But there’s a more nuanced reason why seeing Laura, Barbara, and others like them express their disdain for people like me hurts.

These women filled my childhood, adolescence and young adulthood with a semblance of happiness. They presented mirrors in which I could see my aspirational self reflected.

There were no politics, no patronizing tweets, no cruel attacks on my morals and my decency. They inhabited characters with whom I could identify, and in the case of Bertinelli, who I wanted to be.

That girl represented my ideal teen when I first saw her flip that shiny, stuck straight chocolate hair in 1975.

And speaking of “That Girl,” my first real experience with disappointment was when my beloved Ann Marie aka Marlo Thomas came out as a feminist and, horror of horrors, friends of Gloria Steinem. I was about 10.

I should have seen the writing on the wall.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

I am a papal expert, because I have seen the following three movies over the past two days:

Conclave

Shoes of the Fisherman

The Cardinal

None of us knows what will happen when the conclave convenes next month. I have some favorites, because I would love to see the church return to its more traditional, less “touchy-feely” roots.

I know that many Catholics were brought back to the fold by the manner and methods of Pope Francis, and I acknowledge that he was a good man who clearly read the secular room extremely well, but he also managed to alienate many of us who have filled the pews for decades.

I want a clear message that abortion is evil, a sin, murder, and that’s that.

I want a clear message that we have compassion for everyone regardless of sexual orientation but, no, we don’t bless same-sex unions.

I want a clear message that yes, women are an indispensable strength for the church and it was built on our shoulders as well, but, no, we do not get to be priests simply because the feminists say it’s a thing.

I want a clear message that opening our doors to refugees and immigrants is a fundamental part of our mission and our faith obligation, and that calling people “illegals” is as inhuman as calling them “a clump of cells.”

And I want a clear message that we don’t play favorites with world leaders we like, and make snarky messages about those we don’t.

That’s not too much to ask, is it?

As far as my preferences, there are three people that would make me do cartwheels in the street if elevated to the papacy.

The most obvious one is Cardinal Robert Sarah from Guinea, who has been dubbed the “anti-woke prelate” by Fox News.

I doubt he relishes that title, but there is a great deal of truth in the idea this is a man who represents the more socially conservative branch of the church. He co-authored a book with former Pope Benedict that reiterated the necessity for priestly celibacy. He has stated, quite clearly, that the west has “cut itself off from its Christian roots,” which has angered many who think that he is arguing for a Christian State, when all he is doing is acknowledging the central role that the church has played throughout history. He has also called gender ideology “a Luciferian refusal to receive a sexual nature from God.” And of course, he is strongly anti-abortion.

He is, in short, the perfect pope. And he comes from a part of the world where Christianity is expanding, not receding as it has in the west, which is one of the reasons that he insists on highlighting our Christian roots.

Alas, he is almost 80, and this might make some of the other cardinals wary of electing someone who might have a short and turbulent papacy.

Then there is Pierbattista Pizzaballa, whose name alone makes him a fabulous candidate. Can you imagine a Pope Pizzaballa? It’s Father Guido Sarducci, on steroids. But on a more serious note, Cardinal Pizzaballa, prelate of Jerusalem, has spent the majority of his life in the Middle East, the region in the world where Christians have traditionally been most persecuted would be a brilliant choice. He is 60, can be there for decades, and (allow me a little high five) is Italian. And while he is a softer conservative than Cardinal Sarah, he holds the line on LGBT issues and abortion. He angered some with his push for an end to the war in Gaza, but, um, do we really want a pope who celebrates war? Plus, he’s been a strong critic of Hamas.

Another fantastic choice would be Fridolin Ambongo Besungu, from the Congo, who is very conservative in his politics of the church and on moral teaching and who is from an area in the world where. the church is growing. He is also young and black, which despite the whole “I hate DEI” blather, matters to a growing flock in the Third World.

All three men are like John Paul II in their devotion to defending the faith and who do not mistake ambiguity in moral issues with empathy. We won’t get “who am I to judge” from them. We will not have them ignoring those of us who stayed to gather up those of us who strayed. We will have a Pope for all of us, and one who is able to articulate the core precepts of our faith instead of gently buffering the edges for those who don’t want to hear it.

Now, let me go get my popcorn and settle down to watch The Nun’s Story to deepen my expertise in the female perspective on all of this.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

In the dystopian Ray Bradbury novel “Fahrenheit 451,” a totalitarian government mandates the burning of books.

At the time of its writing, 1953, the author suggested that the impetus for the book was the Red Scare that was taking place in the country.

Throughout the years, his reasoning evolved, to the point where he ultimately came to believe “political correctness” was the problem.

I am probably what you would call a “free speech” absolutist, because I understand what happens when you censor words and thoughts you don’t like.

It starts benignly, as when someone suggests that you’re offensive and should “tone it down.”

From there, it moves fairly quickly into subject matter censorship. We saw that happening during the pandemic, where social media blocked almost any criticism of the government’s vaccine mandates, or the Black Lives Matter hysteria, where some people got fired for writing the wrong sort of newspaper headlines.

Censorship is very bad, and it is the most powerful tool in keeping people docile, uninformed and slaves to a certain totalitarian philosophy.

It was the reason that several generations of Eastern Europeans were trapped behind the Iron Curtain, with Radio Free Europe as their only conduit to information.

But not every attempt to keep books off of shelves is censorship, or an attack on the First Amendment.

Not every book needs to be available to every person in every venue, regardless of its value or the nature of the audience.

The only people who say that are the people who know they are on the wrong side of history and so they have to “protest too much.”

That’s exactly what is happening in my own backyard in Radnor Township in the outskirts of Philadelphia.

This week, the school board voted unanimously, with three abstentions, to reinstate several books in the high school library which are, without any doubt, obscene.

How do I know they are obscene?

To quote Justice Potter Stewart, “I know it when I see it.”

Let’s take the most obvious example, “Gender Queer.”

Here is a passage from that book, which you would never confuse with “Anne of Green Gables”: “I got a new strap-on harness today. I can’t wait to put it on you. It will fit my favorite dildo perfectly. You’re going to look so hot. … “

Radnor decided it wanted to keep that on library shelves.

The language gets more explicit and this publication isn’t even able to print the whole quote.

When a parent objected to the book being available to students, the school board initially agreed and took it out of circulation.

It did not strictly “ban” the book, because parents and students who thought that this was a valuable contribution to the academic oeuvre had every right to buy their own copies.

I remember when I was 11 and in the sixth grade, that is exactly what we did with the then-controversial book “Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret,” and as I recall there was no talk of dildoes in that one.

And then the usual suspects started screaming about censorship and the First Amendment and the school board caved and brought the obscenity back. Because anyone reading those words knows it’s obscenity, it is pornography, and it is inappropriate material for a school that doesn’t have pole dancing on its regular curriculum.

This idea that only librarians get to determine what should be included on library bookshelves is similar to the philosophy that parents should not know if their children are being sexually active, if they want to get an abortion, if they are transitioning, and a whole host of other intimate issues.

This is driving a wedge between parents and their sons and daughters — who might decide eventually that they want to be their daughters and sons.

Protecting children who might be afraid to “come out” to their parents on sensitive issues can be done in ways that don’t destroy family integrity.

Allowing strangers to act in loco parentis is generally destructive.

I hope Radnor enjoys its Bob Guccione award for free speech.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

Over the past several weeks, I have been called schizophrenic, whether it be on social media, in emails from readers or jokingly from friends who seem to think I’m all over the map on the Trump administration. I thought a little clarification was due, before I take a flight over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

I am a conservative, through and through, and I have the battle scars to prove it. But being a conservative, and not a “Never Trump” liberal light, does not require I agree with everything my president does. It does not mean I have to “take one for the team,” when that one is a curve ball to the head that will give me a permanent concussion. Sometimes, you just have to call them as you see them.

So yes, Donald Trump and his Keystone Cop minions acted like third world despots when they removed Salvadoran refugee Kilmar Abrego Garcia back to El Salvador, even though they knew that he was protected by an order that had been issued by a Trump-era judge. There is no gilding the lily here, no “well maybe they made a mistake but it was unintentional,” no “well he was a gang member (yeah? Prove it!) so he’s no great loss,” no “Geez Christine, can’t you let this one pass, because at least he won’t rape and kill someone like poor Laken Riley.”

None of it. There is no excuse for what was done. It was an egregious error, and now the error is beginning to look like deliberate illegality. A federal judge has ordered the Salvadoran be returned to the U.S., and the government is pretending it does not have the power to do so.

They are lying.

This is what a retired ICE agent with forty years of experience under six presidents wrote to me:

“Interesting what the administration is saying about their inability to return someone to the U.S. given that that person is in custody at the administration’s behest. It’s no different than someone being held in custody in Germany on a U.S.-issued INTERPOL Red Notice pending collection by the U.S. Marshals.”

So yeah, they are lying and they need to get the man back here immediately. If they do not, the United States will have just joined Russia, the Philippines, Myanmar, Sudan and a whole host of other lovely countries as a government that “disappears” its problems. It should also wrap the Statute of Liberty in styrofoam and return her to France.

On the other hand, progressives are in no position to start seizing the high ground. This weekend, a bunch of people who needed to do something with their pink hats and their poster board decided to hold yet another protest against the government. I’m fine with protests. The First Amendment is my favorite of all the amendments, except maybe for the Fourteenth, and on occasion the Sixth.

These people, many of whom probably marched against the war in Vietnam while getting blitzed on whatever controlled substance was most available, think of themselves as noble warriors. They are not. They speak about immigrant’s rights, but most of them never defended an immigrant in court, or understand the arcane laws that govern the process. They just like to say they “defend immigrants.” Many of them do understand abortion rights, because many of them probably had them, or know someone who did. Many of them are angry about their 401(k)s, as I am, but didn’t blame Joe Biden for high prices and would have forgiven him if we fell into an inflationary period.

My point is this: I can see how immoral and reprehensible Donald Trump’s administration has been with its bordering-on-fascistic initiatives in going after “illegal immigration,” while at the same time see the true faces of the people who are criticizing him in the streets.

I can walk and chew gum. I am not a team player, I suppose.

You shouldn’t be, either. And if that makes me schizophrenic, just call me Sybil. And hand me a purple crayon.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].

My alma mater was wrong.

Villanova should have barred a young man from walking at graduation after filming a young woman being sexually assaulted. Instead, he basically skated. No arrest, no charges, no penalties.

It took an intrepid journalist with a solid moral compass to bring the story to the attention of the Villanova community, and then to a wider audience. Kudos to him, not to the school.

Ultimately, the budding porn director was forced to voluntarily withdraw from walking.

The Augustinians failed in their mission to live up to the standards of our faith. All of us should have been outspoken in our criticism, and most of us were.

But then I started seeing something troubling. The attacks on a university that failed its most vulnerable students turned into attacks against the Catholic church.

Like clockwork, people started saying things like “well of course Villanova acted that way, it’s a Catholic university after all” or “Big surprise, another Catholic coverup” or “Sex scandal, part 3.”

Of course, I wasn’t surprised. As my friend Jessica reminded me, anti-Catholicism really is the last acceptable prejudice.

But the idea that these holier-than-thou bigots decided to exploit a young victim’s sexual assault for some midweek Catholic bashing is as repellent as the idea that an abuser would be able to walk in the same ceremony as his victim.

I’m not sure of the political orientation of the Catholic bashers because I’ve seen them from all political extremes, including conservative evangelicals who have called us heretic Whores of Babylon — which I always say is a compliment to me, a woman who had her first date at 30 — as well as the usual progressives who think that the choice to kill a baby in utero is a sacrament.

I’m always shocked at the ease with which the haters seem to launch their insults, and crawl out of the poorly-hidden woodwork.

And as I said before, this is not limited to one side of the political aisle. Yes, there are a lot of progressive pro-abortion types who absolutely hate the church because of its unbending position on life.

There are even a lot of self-styled former Catholics who are embarrassed by the indisputable anti-abortion stance of the church, which makes them look so backwards to their woke, evolved friends at cocktail parties.

But it’s not just the liberals who hate us. I have recently come to the realization that there are some conservatives, and not just the Elmer Gantry types who think that Catholics are all cannibalistic papists, who have a problem with our church’s mission.

A few months ago I wrote about Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton’s attempt to sue Catholic Social Services for “human trafficking.”

The crux of his accusation was that it ran a refugee center at the border for immigrants who had crossed over and were waiting to be processed for asylum, and then to join family members elsewhere in the country.

A lot of people I thought shared my world view expressed solidarity with Paxton because he was “getting rid of the gang members” who were pretending to file for asylum.

When I posted a photo I had taken at one of those centers a couple of years ago, standing beside two pony-tailed gang members from Venezuela, two little girls with wide smiles and big brown eyes, they balked.

“That’s not the kind of person we mean,” someone posted.

And my response was, “That’s the kind of person who is taking refuge under Catholic Social Service’s wing.”

As it turns out, the refugee shelters may have to close because of funding cuts.

But the idea that my government was suing my church because it was following our faith — and the First Amendment — was an appalling development.

To add to the whole “those Catholics are always causing trouble” theme, late last month was the 45th anniversary of the murder of a particularly troublesome Catholic, Archbishop Oscar Romero.

The Salvadoran prelate was gunned down at the altar because he was a strong voice against the dictatorial regime of the 1970s and ’80s in his native country. Crazy papist should have probably kept his mouth shut.

Well guess what? That’s one thing Catholics don’t do well, at least the ones who understand the assignment, so to speak. If we see injustice, be it in the womb of a pregnant woman or behind the bars of a detention center, we speak out.

And to those who think it’s cool to mock us, we simply keep our heads up, adjust the imaginary halos, and move forward.

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Copyright 2025 Christine Flowers, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Christine Flowers is an attorney and a columnist for the Delaware County Daily Times, and can be reached at [email protected].