Cagle World

When Donald Trump and his family settled down for a prayer service last week as part of the presidential inaugural events, he very likely didn’t expect a lecture from a wannabe member of “The View.”

But that’s what he got.

Bishop Mariann Budde of the D.C. Episcopal Diocese essentially warned the next chief executive to be nice to immigrants and sexual minorities, using his near-assassination as a point of reference.

Referencing Trump’s comments that God had saved his life to advance a higher purpose, and not appearing too relieved about the miracle, Bishop Budde said this: “In the name of God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared, now. There are gay, lesbian and transgender children in Democratic, Republican and Independent families. Some who fear for their lives. They may not be citizens, or have proper documentation but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches, mosques and synagogues.”

Budde’s lecture did not go over too well with Trump or Vice President JD Vance. Their faces registered an interested mash up of surprise, disgust and “oh so that’s how it’s going to be?”

Afterwards when asked about his reaction to the speech, the president replied with a pithy “didn’t think it was a good service, no.”

Later, on social media, he told us what he really felt, ending with “She is not very good at her job” and demanded an apology. At least he didn’t say, “You’re fired!”

I completely understand his anger. When you are held hostage to someone making a political point at a uniquely non-political event, you are entitled to be annoyed. When that person essentially turns your own tragedy, your near death experience against you, you are justified in being outraged.

While I didn’t think it was appropriate to seek mercy for sexual minorities and immigrants, singling them out for special graces in the House if God, I understand that progressive prelates and their devoted followers are convinced this is their obligation. They turn biblical phrases into partisan slogans, and the rest of us just roll our eyes.

As a Catholic, I’m used to Pope Francis lecturing U.S. Republicans on everything from climate change to border walls. It’s what he does, and, ahem, who am I to judge?

But it’s one thing to seek compassion for people that you believe to be oppressed, and quite another to use your faith to attack a presumed political opponent in what is essentially a hostage situation.

Trump could not just do what I saw Joan Rivers do in an old YouTube clip of her at a CNN interview: get up and walk away. And he shouldn’t have had to.

I’d have said exactly the same thing if Cardinal Timothy Dolan had lectured then President Joe Biden on his inaugural day for supporting the mortal sin of abortion.

Which brings me to my next point.

I’ve often noticed that many of my bleeding heart — oops, compassionate — fellow Catholics bristle when our priests get up at the pulpit and make the very obvious statement that a Catholic cannot support any candidate who in turn supports abortion rights.

This goes for the Nancy Pelosi “abortion can be a sacrament” radicals as well as the more sober Mario Cuomo “I’m personally pro life but …” squishes. They scream about intimidation and a violation of that infamous wall between church and state.

Of course no priest, rabbi, minister or imam can tell you how to vote. He or she can, however, tell you how far you have strayed from the principles of your faith.

The fact is, you can be a good American, and a good person, but you have failed the test as a Catholic if you define as “pro choice.” And there is nothing wrong with a priest telling you that.

Unfortunately, the people cheering Bishop Budd for her passive-aggressive attacks on Trump and his supporters usually go apoplectic when someone like Bishop Strickland, for example, points out the hypocrisy of pro-choice Catholics.

So can we have some consistency here?

If we are going to channel Jesus Christ and his concern for the wretched of the earth, and if we are going to implore the powerful to protect the weak, let’s start with the weakest of all, the ones whose voices were stripped from them in 1973 and restored a half century later.

If we are going to criticize secular leaders for failing to properly codify in law and policy the expansive embrace of the Most High, perhaps we should reorder our priorities and address the threat to the most vulnerable, the invisible children who I can promise you are as scared as the ones referenced by the bishop.

Until then, maybe the Buddes of the world should leave their pulpits for gigs on failing cable networks.

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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].

President Joe Biden issued a flurry of pardons as he left office, but I’m more interested in getting some long overdue and deeply justified pardons from another president, the new occupant of the White House.

This is my personal request to President Donald Trump: Free the Pro Life 21!

During the Biden administration, there was a serious uptick in prosecutions of pro-life activists under what is called the FACE Act: Freedom of Access to Clinics Entrances.

The act, which was found to be constitutional even though it severely restricts the First Amendment rights of anti-abortion activists, also prohibits preventing access to places of worship, but let’s be real: The act was passed by a Congress that saw pro-lifers like me as a threat to public safety.

Religious institutions were an afterthought, and you will note that the “C” in FACE doesn’t stand for church.

Abortion supporters will have you think there is a real threat to women’s health and safety by proclaiming that since they can’t get the unlimited procedures that were available before Roe was struck down, they are just like Dr. George Tiller, the abortionist who was gunned down in, of all places, a church.

They somehow managed to convince Biden’s Justice Department of that same fact, and the DOJ was able to convince some friendly federal judges that grandmothers praying rosaries in front of Planned Parenthood were domestic terrorists.

“Yes, your honor, Mom Mom Philomena with her scapular is identical to Eric Rudolph with his bombs.”

I know it’s not exactly a laughing matter, but I have to chuckle so I don’t cry. The mere idea that people who are fighting for the dignity of unborn life are a threat to national safety is as ludicrous as the idea that abortion is health care.

When the successful execution of that medical procedure ends in dismemberment and death for one of the participants, it’s hard to argue its salutary aspects.

Biden and crew were concerned with the welfare of death row inmates like Kiboni Savage, who had incinerated children but were upset that grandmothers would raise their voices and peacefully use their bodies to preserve the lives of the unknown.

Many of the people who were convicted of blocking access to the clinics were simply engaged in civil disobedience.

Remember the students who sat at the segregated lunch counters, and refused to move?

That sort of stuff. A few chained themselves to the chairs in abortion clinics and refused to leave.

That’s called trespass. And yet, because of this federal law, a large number of them were sentenced to years in prison.

Fortunately, the Thomas More Society has jumped into action.

Devoted to defending life, family and freedom, the nonprofit based out of Chicago takes its name from the great British saint, patron of lawyers and prisoners of conscience, who gave up his own life in defense of his morals and his virtue.

This week, the society filed a petition with incoming president Trump to pardon the Pro Life 21.

According to Senior Counsel Steve Crampton, “With these requests for presidential pardons for 21 peaceful pro-life advocates, we urge President Trump to right the grievous wrongs of the Biden administration’s weaponization of the Department of Justice.

“These 21 peaceful pro-lifers, many of whom are currently imprisoned for bravely standing up for unborn life, are upstanding citizens and pillars of their communities.

“Through full and unconditional pardons for these pro-life advocates, President Trump has the chance to remedy the harm done tothem and their families, deliver on his campaign promises, and repair trust in our constitutional order.”

I’ve attended numerous pro-life rallies and dinners, and have been the keynote speaker at pro-life events.

I’ve also prayed in front of my local Planned Parenthood clinic. So far, I haven’t been taken away in shackles.

I feel lucky to have made it through the Biden administration in one piece.

But far too many of my fellow travelers, the people who spend hot August afternoons and frigid December mornings standing in witness to the barbarity that is abortion, have been arrested on ridiculous charges pursuant to a ridiculous federal law that does nothing to protect women.

It exists solely to punish, and ultimately destroy, the pro-life movement.

It is foolish to think that will happen.

We were able to get Roe overturned after a half-century of efforts, and we will continue to fight until abortion is bothirrelevant, and seen as a profound human rights violation.

Let’s hope President Trump helps us send that message, by pardoning these prisoners of conscience.

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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].

Right after graduating from high school, my father enlisted in the Army. He had no idea they would be sending him to the other end of the world, a place where there were six months of darkness and six months of midnight sun.

Teddy Flowers — an 18-year-old Philly boy with an obsession for scrapple and the dulcet sounds of rhythm and blues, this kid who played the harmonica on his front step and smoked Marlboros while still in his altar boy cassock — found himself communing with Eskimos.

At least, that’s what he wrote to my mother, his sweetheart of a year, the woman he would eventually marry. I’m not sure that the inhabitants of Greenland were actually Eskimos, but I do know that they were as foreign to him as this street kid from 49th street was to them.

This was back in 1957, a few years after Greenland became part of Denmark. I remember as a child thinking that it was kind of strange that this giant piece of ice and snow was owned by that tiny little peninsula north of Germany.

I also remember thinking, as most of us have, that Greenland is a slab of ice, while Iceland has thermal baths. Geography has a strange sense of humor.

I haven’t much thought about Greenland in the last 40 or so years of my life. But our incoming president has somehow decided to make this remote and gargantuan chunk of ice the topic du jour.

In a recent press conference, he floated the idea of buying Greenland, even though to my knowledge it’s not up for sale. He also intimated that if the Danes wouldn’t fork it over, we might take it by force.

I thought I was watching stand up comedy when I saw that. Ha ha, force a country to give up land, ha ha, and if they don’t want to, ha ha, let’s just consider going all Sudetenland on them.

Many of my friends viewed it differently. They tried to explain to me that Trump was playing “3D” chess, meaning that he was so much smarter than we were and so just let him do his thing.

It’s what Salena Zito has called the “People who hate Trump take him literally but not seriously, and those who love him take him seriously but not literally.”

Since I neither love nor hate him, I guess that means I have to figure out my own way through this mess. And mess it is.

You don’t suggest that a sovereign nation, like Canada, for example, can be annexed to the United States. Foreign policy involves treating your allies with at least as much respect, and hopefully much more, than your enemies.

I understand Denmark isn’t exactly one of our go-to countries when we think of national security, but it’s a member of the European Union, and deserves not to be the victim of some diplomatic “Flip Your Real Estate” show.

There are also more important things to worry about, like cabinet nominees, the economy and the immigration crisis. After all, those were the things that Trump campaigned upon, not the fate of a giant ice cube.

But still, there are people who will insist that debating the fate of Greenland is a legitimate national security topic, even though we still have bases there and are in no danger of being evicted.

If my father were still alive, I’m certain he’d be as puzzled as I am about this whole dust-up.

This is the imaginary conversation I can hear him having with my mother as he was sitting in his frigid barracks back in 1957:

Teddy: It’s really cold, Lou.

Lucy: I’m sorry honey. You’ll be home soon.

Teddy: Not soon enough. It’s an icebox.

Lucy: I know! And they call it Greenland!

Teddy: The Danes have a wierd sense of humor.

Lucy: The Danes?

Teddy: Yeah, Denmark owns it.

Lucy: Well they can have it!

Teddy: You know it sweetheart. Only a fool would want to own a giant Icebox … plus they speak this crazy language.

Lucy: Well honey maybe one day some visionary will ignore the principal of national borders and just annex it for the U.S. and they’ll learn to speak English!

Teddy: Maybe one day Philadelphians will too.

My dad had a sense of humor. I suppose I’ll have to have one too, from now on.

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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].

Last week, I was incensed after learning the Sugar Bowl would only be postponed a day after a horrific tragedy in the host city, New Orleans.

15 families were planning funerals. 30 other families were wondering if they’ll need to plan funerals. It’s just a game, not our national honor. I think we would’ve shown more honor by respecting the grief of the mourners. A week was not too much to ask.

Many of my friends agreed. Some, like me, were primarily concerned with the grief of the survivors. Others worried about safety concerns. Still others were repelled by the thought money was the guiding factor in the decision.

I’ll admit I was shocked at friends who just thought we should push forward and pass the ball. It’s not that I don’t share their unwillingness to capitulate to terror. I’ve long been of the mind that we need to be defiant, resolute and kick ass in our response to barbarism.

It’s in our American DNA not to back down. After 9/11, we didn’t. Our president climbed on the ruins of New York’s World Trade Center with a megaphone and screamed our defiance to the universe. We went to war, albeit on shaky-if-not-false pretenses. We scooped terrorists off of battlefields and imprisoned them, albeit with a lack of precision.

We did all these things and I applauded. In column after column, radio show after radio show, television appearance after television appearance, I championed the war, the administration and Guantanamo. For the most part, with some misgivings but with the knowledge that our hearts were in the right place-the don’t screw with Americans place, I supported the response to 9/11.

And I still do. But guess what happened after 9/11?

Football, and pretty much every other sport, went dark for the week. Unlike 1963 when games were played 48 hours after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, the NFL realized that grief needed a buffer, and the second week of the season was canceled. This is what player Amani Toomer said at the time:

“You’re in your 20s, you think the moon and stars rise and fall with how well you do in a football game. Then you get totally sidetracked — there’s a real world that has nothing to do with the NFL.”

At the time no one said “we need to play these games to show the terrorists who we really are.” If they did, no one listened. There was this crazy idea that our humanity was not measured by the chains on a football field. It’s measured, millimeter by millimeter, in empathy.

To me, a society that mistakes arrogance for resilience is not a society that understands what resilience means.

At this point the issue is moot — the game has been played, the winner taking a step toward playing for the national championship. And the people who support it say, “Life goes on.”

I agree that life does, indeed, go on. If it didn’t, if we were paralyzed at every dark moment in our personal or national histories, there would be no point in getting out of bed. It’s an empty phrase, to be honest.

But there are certain things that, because of their relative importance in the grand scheme of things, don’t deserve to take precedence over compassion and respect for grief. The way that a society treats its members at their most vulnerable moments, when they are burdened with sorrow or bent over in pain, defines our character.

Playing a football game, however important, can never trump pausing to remember the victims of a tragedy. Holding the Sugar Bowl before the bodies are buried leaves a bitter taste in the mouth.

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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].

To say that it was an interesting year is to say that the Earth rotates around the sun, something that isn’t as slam dunk as it would appear.

Ask Galileo.

But the truth is that every year is interesting in its own way, and this one included the death of a hero, Alexei Navalny; the toppling of a dictator, Bashar Al Assad; the implosion of a president, Joe Biden; two assassination attempts on a former president, Donald Trump; the conviction for hush money payments made by a former president, Donald Trump, and the re-election of a former president, Donald Trump.

Suffice it to say a lot happened, and any one of the above-mentioned events would have been shocking taken in isolation. Personally, I think the one true thing that has changed in the American psyche is that we are no longer capable of being shocked.

But I was shocked at how actually shocked I could still be by some things.

One of those things was the pardon of most federal death row prisoners, issued by Joe Biden in the waning days of his lame duck administration, which isn’t as lame duck as we thought.

Biden had already made waves with his pardon of his son Hunter, a recovering drug addict who may or may not have also been involved in shady “bring your daddy to work on grifting in the Ukraine” deals.

When Papa pardoned Junior, I smirked and expressed a complete lack of surprise while many of my conservative friends were wailing about Joe lying.

Yes, he said he wouldn’t pardon his son. Yes, he changed his mind.

Even that most charitable interpretations didn’t phase me.

Presidents have the power to do these things, regardless of how repellent they may appear to be. Let it rest, I said.

But then Biden, who clings to the tattered threads of his Catholic identity with the desperation of a man nearing Judgment Day invoked the “each life is precious” philosophy of the church as well as the troublesome incidence of wrongful convictions and commuted the death sentences of 37 out of 40 federal prisoners.

That isn’t exactly a pardon, as most will be automatically converted into life sentences.

But for all intents and purposes, it has the same effect: An erasure of the decisions judges and juries arrived at after reviewing the facts of each case.

One of those cases involved Kiboni Savage, whose last name is as perfect as if it was chosen by the devil himself. This is a man who ordered the firebombing of a home in North Philadelphia that took the lives of four children.

They were incinerated in their beds. The hit was ordered by Savage who was incarcerated at the time, in retaliation for the witness testimony provided by the children’s relative.

Considering the commutation of this sentence and the idea that “all lives matter,” I was forced to reflect on Biden’s embrace of, and absolute devotion to, abortion rights.

Any suggestion that he is motivated by the moral teachings of our shared faith becomes laughable when you listen to our current president’s lectures on how the dignity of women is based upon their ability to issue death sentences to their unborn children.

No pardons for them, even in the face of their absolute innocence.

But even beyond that incongruent hypocrisy, the idea that people who have committed the most heinous crimes should not suffer the most heinous penalties is one of the most troubling and repellent things that have come from our evolving views on criminal justice.

Living in a city where my own district attorney is loathe to charge the death penalty even in cases of the cold-blooded executions of police officers, I am used to the arguments of progressives and their allies in the faith communities that capital punishment violates the Eighth Amendment, which by the way it doesn’t.

I have heard the litany of cases where innocent people have been wrongly convicted and then wrongly executed. That last situation is compelling, to the point where I’d agree to a moratorium until actual guilt was established beyond any — not a reasonable — doubt.

I am aware of the statistics that show a disproportionate number of those on death row are minorities.

I also understand that we are one of the few civilized societies where the death penalty is still a viable option, even though it’s rarely applied.

But there is no reason to look at a man like Kiboni Savage, whose crime is inhuman and whose guilt is undisputed, and argue that his life matters more than four children burned alive at his mandate.

That is especially rich, coming from a president who had vowed to codify Roe vs. Wade had his mandate been extended another four years.

So I suppose the biggest takeaway from 2024 is the fact that Joe Biden still had it in him to shock me with his bizarre conception of which lives matter.

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Copyright 2024 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].

Immigration is, and will continue to be, a controversial topic.

The least controversial aspect, however, is naturalization. Becoming a U.S. citizen is the pinnacle of my practice, and it is the pinnacle of the immigration process.

Last week, I was honored to be asked to be the keynote speaker for the swearing-in of 30 new citizens at a courthouse in the suburbs of Philadelphia.

These were my remarks:

“First, I wanted to thank Judge Whelan for inviting me to come and speak to you today. It is a great honor.

Most people, when asked to give an address before an audience say that “it is a great honor,” and I am sure that they mean it.

But for me, I can assure you that this is something special. I have practiced immigration law for almost 30 years, and in that time I have been to many naturalization ceremonies, usually accompanying one of my clients.

But I was never before asked to be a part of the actual ceremony. Today, I feel as if we are sharing this incredible, deeply important experience together.

This is a day to celebrate all of you. I do not know you personally, but I think I do know you.

I know what you might have faced, in coming to a strange country whose language you might not have initially spoken well, or at all.

I know what it must have been like to, in some cases, have left your entire family abroad, not sure of when you would see them again.

I know what it probably felt like to be called “an immigrant,” during periods when that was not an easy thing to be.

I have practiced immigration law under five presidents: Clinton, Bush, Obama, Trump, Biden and will be practicing again, under Trump.

I turned 63 a week ago today, so I should be doing this for at least another four years. I anticipate difficulties, and changes.

But the one thing that I know, is that you, here, are the reason that this system persists, and will continue to function.

That’s because there will always be people like you, who found something so exceptional, so special, so important in the United States that you were compelled to make this country your home.

It could be that you fell in love with a U.S. citizen, got your green card through him or her, and then filed for naturalization.

It could be that you have special skills and an employer sponsored you to do great things and contribute to the economy or research or social services, and then decided to become a citizen.

In what I consider to be the most moving cases, many of which I have seen over the years, you fled persecution in your home country, and then became a green card holder, and now chose to become a citizen of the country that gave you safe harbor.

In fact, that just happened for one of my clients last month, a man from Pakistan who had fought against the Taliban in his own country.

Every one of you has a different story, and every story is part of the great mosaic that makes this country as exceptional as it is.

Ronald Reagan, my favorite president, called us “a shining city on a hill.” In many ways, immigrants have made us that.

I use the term “mosaic,” instead of the traditional “melting pot” term, because I think it more accurately reflects who and what we are.

Each of you are bringing the richness of your ancestral homes, your traditions and cultures and histories, and adding them to what we have created here.

“Melting” implies “becoming one lump or mass,” whereas “mosaic” preserves the beauty and integrity of each separate part of the larger picture.

The larger picture is this country, and each of you brings something unique to it, a very special aspect of its beauty.

When you become a U.S. citizen, you do not stop being the person you always were, the person formed in your native land. You do not stop being a Guinean, a Liberian, a Russian, a Khazak, a Bahamian, an Indian, a Jamaican, a citizen of the U.K., a Sri Lankan, a Honduran.

You do not erase that most profound part of you. What you are doing is adding a layer of fabulousness to what already exists.

Politics change. Politicians change. Elections happen, time passes and slogans morph into other slogans.

The way we look at the world changes. The world, itself, changes. That is all transient.

But what you are doing here, and what you are becoming, is permanent.

It is the thing that makes this country as exceptional as it is.

We truly are a nation of immigrants, and even though you are now a part of this country in the most intimate and important way, your immigrant histories will make you the truest, and most “American” Americans of all.

Welcome!”

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Copyright 2024 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 turned 63 on Dec. 4.

Unlike many women of my vintage, birthdays are a very public celebration in my house.

It’s always been that way.

From the time I understood the concept of getting older, the 4th day of the last month has been a chance to revel in the joy of having made it safely through the birth canal — thank you momma — and into this amazing world.

For youngsters with their hopes of presents and sugary delights, that’s a normal thing. But as we get older, we’re supposed to hate, or at least ignore, our birthdays.

That’s especially so for women because age has somehow become associated with human depreciation. The extra mileage on our chronological odometers, manifested in gray hair, wrinkles and extra avoirdupois is considered an inconvenience at best, an embarrassment at worst.

I understand that getting older is not always a joy for some people.

My perspective is different, given my personal circumstances. Gratitude for my graying hair stems from the fact that my father, a feisty redheaded Irishman, never had the chance to see even one gray in that thick crown of auburn.

He died at the age of 43, from inoperable lung cancer.

“Appreciation” of my extra weight comes from the fact that my brother, an athletic runner with the body of a track-and-field star, never had the chance to develop a middle-aged tire. He died a few months before his 31st birthday.

Tolerance of my wrinkles derives from the fact that my aunt, a beautiful woman with the translucent skin of her French-Swedish mother and the high cheekbones of her Chinese father never had a need for Botox. She died in her sleep at the age of 40.

And some cousins and other relatives left this Earth long before their bodies had stopped working.

So I rejoice in the ability to wake up in the morning, especially this year when I am exactly 20 years older than my father will ever be. Gratitude is essential, and the lack of it makes you unworthy of blessings.

On the other hand, some people have become unpleasantly obsessed with what I call “humble bragging,” the dishonest attempt at self-deprecation on social media in an attempt to have people tell them how great they look for their age. I really hate it when someone who has lived a charmed life plays that game for legions of followers, particularly when so many people were never given the opportunity to seek affirmation from strangers before prematurely leaving this Earth.

The other day, Valerie Bertinelli, who has been very open over the past few years about her weight and self-esteem struggles, posted a selfie where she posed in her underwear with a box of Nutrisse hair color — the same brand I use — to discuss her issues. It was a picture of a once-beautiful, still quite lovely 64-year-old without makeup and sagging skin but a well-toned body telling her followers that this is what 64 looks like.

Another post from Bertinelli attacking the trolls who told her that a 64-year-old woman posing in her underwear is maybe not the best way to show inner strength and self-awareness. I think they were correct.

She seemed to have a different view of the situation, writing in part, “To all of you that would sit in judgment of my body, the photo, and my reason for posting it, I hope you find a place in your heart to not judge yourself as harshly as you judge others. I have dealt with judgment my entire life starting from when I was a young girl. It has taken me a long time to realize that my judgment, with patient discernment, is the only judgment that counts … I don’t care what you think of my body. I don’t care what you think about my posting about it. For the first time in my life, I love my body as it is.”

My point, if you’ve somehow missed it, is that life is fragile, precious and transient.

We are blessed to reach our birthdays and to be able to celebrate them with our loved ones. As that circle diminishes and the celebration becomes smaller, our appreciation for what remains should increase exponentially. And we should embrace the vestiges of age that prove we are still here.

So as I move into the middle of my seventh decade, I promise to remain fully aware of the blessings God, nature and my dentist have given me.

And I also promise never to post any photos in my underwear to prove how happy I am to still be alive.

You’re quite welcome.

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Copyright 2024 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].

There have been some interesting discussions about birthright citizenship, intensified by Donald Trump’s election a few weeks ago.

A number of people who are angry at the chaos at the border have jumped right over the normal processes and procedures which would guarantee illegal border crossings are limited, and hit right at one of the core principles of our nation, one embedded in the 14th Amendment – if you are born here, regardless of the status of your parents, you are a U.S. citizen.

The actual wording of the amendment is as follows: “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the state wherein they reside.”

Those who don’t like the idea that birth on American territory automatically grants you the gift of American citizenship have started to parse the words of the amendment. They are doing what gun reform activists tried to do with the 2nd Amendment, making the “right to bear arms” a collective right held by “militias,” not an individual and a personal right for each and every American citizen. That parsing, which would make every Catholic school English teacher who ever diagrammed a sentence on a blackboard proud, was roundly rejected by the Supreme Court in the Heller decision, which recognized an individual right to own a gun. That being the case, conservative attempts to dismantle well over a century of constitutional precedent is dishonest, and untenable.

Some argue the phrase “subject to the jurisdiction of” means parents of the child born in this country must be legally here in order to confer citizenship. The point they are missing, or actually one of several points, is that it is not the parents who are conveying anything but life to the child.

It is the Constitution itself that is conveying citizenship. More importantly, virtually everyone physically present in the U.S., regardless of legal status, is subject to the jurisdiction of our government. If this were not the case, we can imagine a Batman style Gotham city environment, where illegal aliens could just commit crimes and the only thing we could do if we catch them is deport them. No arrests, no jail terms, no trials and no life sentences.

Imagine if that were the case with Laken Riley’s murderer, an illegal alien who is now going to spend the rest of his life behind bars. This writer would have been happier had he been sentenced to death, but that’s another column altogether.

The idea we can simply strip people of their citizenship and thereby erase a constitutional right, merely to solve a problematic but temporary problem at the border, is anathema. I know legal scholars have differed on the integrity of birthright citizenship, but they are going to need better arguments than those proffered by anti-immigration activists in order to be able to convince even this conservative Supreme Court of their legitimacy.

I am an immigration lawyer and my bias is incorporated into my viewpoint. Thirty years of doing this work will color anyone’s perspective on the laws governing immigration policy. I understand extremely well the importance of maintaining order at the border, but stripping people born here of their birthright, one over a century old in its recognition, on specious political grounds is not going to advance that goal.

People do not come here to “have” U.S. citizen children, who frankly can only be of benefit from an immigration perspective after the child turns 21 or in a few other very limited circumstances. The immigration laws already eliminate U.S. citizen children as the basis of most waivers of inadmissibility and against deportation/removal, so this is simply an appeal to the lowest common denominator, the basest instincts of the xenophobic.

Where will we draw the line? Is being born to a citizen the only way to ensure the citizenship of the child? Is being born to a visitor who has the right to live here for a few months enough? Do you need your green card? And is this what we want, a world where your value is based on your parents’ status in the country? I don’t think that Americans are that sort of people.

So even if you do support Trump’s more draconian policies on immigration, you are not as patriotic as you think if you are in favor of making newborns criminals in their cribs.

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Copyright 2024 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].

You know the old song lyrics “Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am?”

I’ve been hearing that on a loop in my inner ear over the past two weeks since Donald Trump pulled off what some have called a surprise landslide but which, after the votes were counted, seems to be more of an anti-Kamala “boy are they blue” wave.

In other words, I doubt that America has embraced Trump because he’s received a lower popular vote percentage than almost every prior winner.

Still, America couldn’t stomach the idea of a Harris presidency. And so, here we are.

I’m not ecstatic, to tell you the truth. I didn’t expect to be.

The fact that I’m neither devastated by Trump’s win nor elated by Kamala’s failure places me squarely in the middle of those clowns and jokers.

And I have a feeling I’ll be stuck here for another four years, with one side calling me a fascist and the other side calling me a RINO at best, a traitor to the cause at worst.

And that’s fine. Honestly, I don’t do team playing that well.

It’s probably because I’m Italian, biologically by half and spiritually 100%, and we are never able to get on the same page in anything.

You think I’m joking. Google “meatball recipe” and realize that the same little globe of beef/pork/whatever is like a snowflake: each Italian nonna makes it differently.

But I digress, which is also proof of my Italian DNA.

When you are in the middle, even if you lean deeply towards one side as I do, you are never entirely accepted.

However, it does give you the ability to accurately assess the many flaws of those hanging on to the extreme edges of that ship of state.

Let’s start with the progressives. I have had about enough of the whining, wailing, teeth gnashing and apocalyptic rantings of those who not only despise Trump but also hate the people who voted for him.

They even hate the people who didn’t vote at all because they blame them for electing an emperor.

I’m sad to think of all the fractured Thanksgiving celebrations, because who doesn’t want to eat marshmallow-topped sweet potatoes and noodle casserole next to a fascist?

I’m also done with the Trumpers who, after four years of wandering in the wilderness, are back and better than ever. When I say “better,” I mean vengeful.

Many of my conservative friends will be angry at that characterization, but it’s hard for me to avoid thinking that the joy of the Trump victory is in many ways a toxic brew of resentment, relief and a desire to “own the libs.”

Yes, there are many reasons to be appalled at what the Democrats did to Trump during his four years in exile, although some of what is called “lawfare” was a legitimate exercise of Congress’ investigative authority.

The state prosecutions, on the other hand, were what the French would call “crapule,” which you can figure out even if you don’t have a degree in the language.

But the chest-thumping and the absolute refusal to look at mediocre nominees like Matt Gaetz with an objective eye, wanting to get a “win” for the team, is disturbing.

Is there a place where Americans can simply agree to disagree, without vilifying the other side?

And I know the answer: no.

A big, loud, unequivocal “no.”

That’s because, as Amy Chua noted in her book “Political Tribes”: “Humans are tribal. We need to belong to groups. We crave bonds and attachments, which is why we love clubs, teams, fraternities, and family. Almost no one is a hermit. Even monks and friars belong to orders. But the tribal instinct is not just an instinct to belong. It is also an instinct to exclude.”

She’s right: we need to hate someone else.

That element, hatred of the other, is much more of a cohesive element than acceptance. The Hate Has No Home Here crowd was really saying “I Hate You Because You’re Not Like Me. Deal With It.”

And that’s precisely why those of us who couldn’t stand Kamala but are not in love with Trump, and never will be, are condemned to wandering in our own wilderness.

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Copyright 2024 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].

There is a great old movie, a black and white classic called “Advise and Consent.” I make sure to watch it at least once a year, not just because of the incredible cast that includes Charles Laughton, Henry Fonda, Gene Tierney, Walter Pidgeon and Franchot Tone, but because it is incredibly relevant six decades after it debuted in theaters. It’s about the tug and pull of politics in D.C. and a brutally honest examination of how the sausage is made.

The title refers to the process by which presidential nominees make it through the sausage grinder, the requirement that the Senate must “advise and consent” to the executive’s choices. While most Americans believe a president should be able to fill his administration with people of his choosing, we also believe the legislature acts as a necessary brake on some executives’ “runaway trains.”

In “Advise and Consent,” the president nominates an extremely controversial candidate for secretary of state, a man who is widely suspected of having communist sympathies. I won’t reveal the surprise ending but suffice it to say that the machinations of those who oppose this nominee cause a good man to commit suicide.

I remember thinking of that movie when Brett Kavanaugh was being grilled by the woman who just lost the last election, treated as if he were an actual rapist instead of the target of some aging high schooler’s failing memory of “laughter” and “I think Brett was there in the room.”

I was angry because it seemed as if there was very little “advice” coming from the Senate, and hardly any evidence on which it could deny its “consent.” Fortunately, a majority of senators, including the deeply courageous Susan Collins of Maine, confirmed Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court.

Fast-forward six years. A new president-elect, who happens to be the same president who picked Kavanaugh (what a world, eh?) has announced that he wants a controversial congressman from Florida to be his next attorney general. And I am grateful that the sausage grinder exists.

Matt Gaetz is virtually no one’s idea of a qualified nominee. The man is a graduate of William and Mary Law School, a fact that must have the ghost of Thomas Jefferson pulling out his sepulchral hair. He practiced law for less than two years in a civil firm, has no criminal law experience and was briefly suspended for not paying certain administrative fees but was later reinstated, according to USA Today. He has spent most of his adult professional career in Congress, representing Florida’s 1st Congressional District since 2017.

MAGA loves him because they see him as the pit bull who will get Donald Trump whatever he wants. They are right that he is a pit bull and that he is a Trump sycophant who will do anything within his power to ingratiate himself to the once and future president.

He is also a man who, unlike Kavanaugh, has been credibly accused of sexual assault and sex trafficking. While the Justice Department investigated him and chose not to pursue a prosecution, the House Ethics Committee seemed poised to issue a damning report about Gaetz’s activities, until he resigned after being picked as Trump’s AG nominee.

Some have suggested Trump chose Gaetz to prevent him from having to deal with a highly embarrassing report. I doubt that. Trump is not in the business of making life easier for other people. There is always an angle for him, in whatever actions he takes.

I think that he chose Gaetz to show the country that he could. That’s it. He picked one of the least qualified attorneys in the world, to head one of the most important law enforcement agencies in the world, because he could.

I also think that he chose him because he saw a devoted ally, and possibly someone who could be easily manipulated into doing what he wanted him to do. Gaetz is basically Stephen Miller, the anti-immigrant wunderkind, just with a lot of greasy hair.

As you can tell, I am not a fan of Gaetz. But even if I were, I would very much be a fan of advise and consent. While senators like Kamala Harris, Amy Klobuchar and Maisie Hirono were incredibly unfair and hostile towards Kavanaugh, I respected the process by which he was vetted. He had the character to survive. Gaetz does not.

I sincerely hope Trump does not try and make Gaetz a recess appointment, even though I doubt he’ll have that opportunity. The American people have a right to see Gaetz in all of his gory, I mean glory, and watch as the sausage grinder does its work. Even the MAGA senators won’t deny us the show.

And until that starts, I’m going to pop in my DVD of “Advise and Consent” to remind myself that history always repeats itself. Hollywood just makes it look a lot prettier.

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Copyright 2024 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].