Features
“Braunsteins on the broom” revisited
By GERRY POSNER Step back in time to 1958. It’s February and the Manitoba Curing Championships are starting in Winnipeg for the right to play in the McDonald Brier. Who should be competing but two Jewish boys from the south end of Winnipeg, Terry and Ron Braunstein? Terry was all of 18 while Ron was only 17. Also on the team were Ray Turnbull and Jack Van Hellemond.
The team competing for the Manitoba championship was skipped by Marno Frederickson. Although few expected the youngsters to have gotten this far, there they were in the final and, ultimately, they prevailed. As Manitoba champs they were entitled to compete in Victoria, BC in March of that year in the McDonald Brier.
Now, just getting to participate in the Manitoba playdowns was by itself a bit of good fortune. First, It was only because Terry came home from school in Texas where he was on a track scholarship in Houston that allowed him even to be around, available, and ready to play. Events in Texas had soured him on the University of Houston and that was exacerbated by his asking a black athlete, a running star, for some running tips. The coaches disapproved of that interaction, told Terry so warned him not to do it again. That – plus other factors led Terry to abandon the track programme.
So, Terry packed up, came home to Winnipeg and was out of school for that year as a result. But he had time to curl and the Maple Leaf rink as well as the Granite Club were inviting. It did not hurt that the uncle of the Braunstein boys was Eph Portigal, a mover and shaker at the Maple Leaf Club. In fact, Terry has always made clear, as did Ron, that their uncle Eph was instrumental in teaching the boys some curling strategy, a significant part of every curling game.
To be clear, the boys had curled some before as they grew up for a chunk of their early years in Binscarth, Manitoba where their father, Dr. David Braunstein was a physician.The boys, as they were then, had (and always have had) what might be called some serious athletic genes. Anyone who can remember Dr. Dave will recall that, among his many abilities in sports, he was a fastball star.
That the athletic gene was prominent in the Braunsteins became evident to me long ago. I recall the day when I first came across the Braunstein brothers and was in awe of what they could do athletically. It was about 1955 and the Braunstein family had moved to Winnipeg. They were living temporarily with the Portigals on Wellington Crescent – near my home on Cordova Street. Up until that time, I fancied myself as a bit of an athlete. Then I met Ron and Terry Braunstein. I saw them playing baseball on Wellington Crescent so easily and smoothly as if they were born with a glove in utero. Right then and there, at age 12, I realized, just how lousy I really was. I have always commented that, of the people I knew personally, the Braunsteins were the best athletes I had ever seen to that point. Of course, in truth, the range of my relationships at that time was slender, so they had few to compete with on my radar screen.
Now, the story of even getting to compete for the Manitoba Curling Championships was more complicated as the team had their lead drop out at the last minute. The rest of the team needed a replacement and had about 24 hours to submit a new name or they would not be allowed to enter. Terry remembered playing against a young kid earlier who had impressed him, but didn’t know how to reach him. “Him” was Jack Van Hellemond, not yet 16. Terry thought that Jack curled at the Belgian Club so he went there that night and luckily found Jack, invited him to play on his team. Jack agreed, but Terry still had to get consent from Jack’s parents and the principal at his school. All of that happened in less than 24 hours.
In any event, the boys did get in, with Ray Turnbull as second, Ron as third and Terry as skip. Not for a second did any of them think they would win the Manitoba Curling Championship event. In the end though, they were victorious at the Winnipeg Arena. I was there and that is a memory etched in my mind.
Off to Victoria in March of 1958 they went and again, nobody thought they had a real chance of winning the Brier. Yet, they played so well that at the end of the week, their team ended in a tie with one of the legends of the game, Alberta’s Matt Baldwin. That forced a sudden death championship, winner take all. I recall sitting close to my radio following every shot as the game progressed. I was crestfallen when they lost in a very tight match. But, as a sports writer then for the Kelvin High School Et Cetera newspaper, as it was then called, I had the chance to write a column for the paper which had the headline “ Braunsteins on the Broom.” It was my first real writing experience that led to the publication of an article about the trip to the Brier for the Braunstein rink. Terry had graduated from Kelvin while Ron was still a student there. I thank Ron and Terry for the part they played, even if was inadvertent, in my budding writing career. This article just revisits that time and place.
The entry of the young Braunsteins into what was then the main event in the world of curling in 1958 caused a major change in the rules of the Canadian Curling Association. That a team with two 18-year-olds, as in Terry and Ray, a 17-year-old in Ron, and the 16-year-old Jack, could compete with adult men was too much for the veterans of the game, so a separate junior competition was created, which exists to this day. Thank the Braunsteins for that rule change.
And yet, that defeat in 1958 did not deter the Braunstein brothers at all as they continued to compete for many more years, ultimately winning Manitoba again in 1965 and going once more to the Brier, this time in Saskatoon. They had an almost unblemished record and won the Canadian championship with a team consisting of Terry as skip, the very well known Don Duguid as third, Ron at second and Ray Turnbull as lead. That was a big day for the boys, the Granite Curling Club and indeed Jews all over the Province of Manitoba who shared the moment vicariously with the Braunsteins. Unfortunately, the team lost in the World Championship in Scotland to a USA team skipped by Bud Somerville. That Ron had to bow out of the event owing to his medial school obligations might have been the factor that caused that loss. We will never know. What we can suggest however, is the fact that the USA win jump started the game in the USA, eventually createing an impetus to get Curling recognized officially as a sport in the 1998 Winter Olympics. Thank the Braunsteins (even in defeat) for that contribution.
The Braunsteins also changed the game slightly when they adopted a more finesse style rather than the hitting game so prevalent until that time. Maybe that change allowed the team to be so dominant. Whatever the reason, what is certain is that when Terry Braunstein won the Canadian Curling Championship in 1965 he was then the youngest skip to win it at age 25, also the first Jewish skip to win. My best guess is that brother Ron Braunstein was the first Jew to win as a second. Prove me wrong.
Even after 1965, Terry continued to be a major player in Manitoba for many years in the curling community. He had to play without Ron, as Ron had continued his medical career and ended up, after a stint in L.A., moving to Vancouver. Terry participated in 14 Manitoba Provincial Championships. He won three car bonspiels and several cash bonspiels, as well as the Grand Aggregate for most victories in the Provincial play downs in 1969, 1971 and 1977. And there were other honours bestowed upon him throughout his carer, including an induction into the Manitoba Sports Hall of Fame, an honour given later to Ron in 2013. Even as a senior Terry Braunstein excelled, competing in several Provincial Championships. In 1994 and 1995 his rink won the Manitoba Seniors’ Championionship. He even participated in the Master’s competition in 2006.
Now, curling was far from the only sport the brothers starred in, as baseball was at least as great a passion for them – and they played at a high level. They loved baseball as they were raised on it by their father. Moreover, both Ron and Terry became very good golfers ( though Ron was quite clear that he was never in Terry’s league). Of course, during all this time, both brothers had careers in which they were involved for a long time. Ron was a prominent psychiatrist in Vancouver, working in a Vancouver hospital for most of his career in the outpatient child and adolescent department. During his career he was significantly committed to the training of young psychiatrists. Given that there is so much thinking in the world of curling, I suggest that it is not such a long stretch from curling to psychiatry. That suggestion would need input from Ron and others who have had two kinds of careers. Save that thought for another article.
Ron only recently retired after over 50 years of medical practice. He and his first wife, the lated Sue Harris, had three children, all of whom live in the Vancouver area. And to nobody’s surprise, the kids are seriously athletic. The eldest, Jon Braunstein, was, and is still a serious runner, as in marathons. Daughter Amy played competitive soccer in British Columbia. Son Dave, the youngest, competes regularly in Ultima. Some genes never change.
As for Terry, he was the founder and head honcho for Danli Promotions, a specialty advertising firm in Winnipeg and beyond. Danli, of course was named for son Danny and daughter Lisa, the children of Terry and his wife, the former Andrea Greenberg. Danny ultimately joined him in the business and is still active in the promotional industry to this day. My son Ari tells me that Danny is a star on the Squash court.
The Braunsteins have achieved much in sport, particularly curling. But if you talked to both of the brothers, you would know little of their accomplishments, as they remain very humble about what they did. That too is a Braunstein gene. They may be quiet about it. I am not.
Features
EINSTEIN, RITA AND ME
By DAVID R. TOPPER In the early 1960s, when I was an undergraduate student majoring in Physics at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh – there was only one girl in my advanced physics classes. As I learned later, nothing much had changed since the days of Einstein. When he was studying Physics at the Polytechnic in Zurich, the physics classes were all male – except for Mileva Marić, a Serbian who was the first girl in high school ever to take a physics course in the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire. Because Switzerland was the only place where women were admitted to university classes, she was there with Albert in Zurich.
She was very smart, especially in math, and also proficient at the piano. Born with a dislocated hip, Mileva had a slight limp, and the men in the class ignored her – except for one, Albert. They became a couple and eventually married.
Back to me in my university physics classes – where it seems that little had changed for over sixty years. In my advanced classes there was only one girl. Her name was Rita. She mainly stayed to herself. Majoring in Mathematics, she took all the advanced physics courses available, right through the fourth year. In short, in those predominantly male classes, she was an anomaly – alone and ignored by her classmates.
Except me. No, I didn’t date her, yet I didn’t ignore her. During those undergraduate years, I lived at home and took a bus or a trolley to school five days a week, leaving early in the morning. The university is in downtown Pittsburgh. Walking to the campus, I first went to the Physics Department, using it as my base. From there I went to my other classes during the day. There was a small classroom in the Department that was almost always empty, especially in the morning. It could be used for individual studying or small group discussions and such. In the early morning, I was usually the only one there – except for Rita, who used it for studying, too. She often was there, even before me. Usually the conversation started by me saying something like: “Hi Rita, did you get the last problem in mechanics class homework?” Her response was invariably, “Yes.” We would go over it, with her finding my mistakes. We had an amiable relationship that never went beyond our interactions about physics – right up to the end of our university years. As far as I can remember, I don’t think I knew much about her beyond the classroom.
But one event, which I’ll never forget, stands out. It was during our last year of classes in a course on the theory of relativity. For the textbook the prof used a paperback edition of the original papers on the theory. Early in the course, we went through Einstein’s first paper of 1905 – step by step. On this particular day, the prof came in and said he had a problem with the next step in the paper. As we all sat with our books in front of us, he pointed to a certain equation where we ended in the previous class. In the next sentence, Einstein says that such and such follows. The problem for the prof was that he didn’t know how Einstein got that deduction. I looked at it, and didn’t have a clue either.
Just then, Rita’s hand went up. She said she thinks she knows how Einstein got it. The prof asked her to come up to the blackboard and show him. Rita did, and the prof said that she was right. I’m quite sure that – then and there – Rita got an A in that course, if not an A+.
That gives you some idea about Rita and my relationship with her at the time. Not a very significant part of my 4-year undergraduate years – except for this one event in a physics course.
Why then am I bringing this up now, so many years later? Here’s why.
I graduated with my BS degree in the fall of 1964. I then went to graduate school at Case Institute of Technology in Cleveland, majoring in Physics. (It’s now Case-Western Reserve University.)
When I moved there, I lived in a formerly swanky hotel on the edge of the campus, which was purchased by the university as a residence solely for graduate students. They called it The Graduate House. Eleven floors, the top 8 with suites for students, with one floor solely for female students. It was a radical experiment in co-ed living for the time.
My first day there, after getting my room and putting my things in drawers and so forth, it was late in the afternoon – and I was hungry. I had been told when I registered that the dining hall would open the following morning, but for now there was no food. However, on the third floor there were vending machines with sandwiches and such, so I went to find them.
Going down the elevator, exiting at the third floor, and walking down a hall – suddenly I heard my name called. “David, what are you doing here?” Turning around – there was Rita! It was quite a surprise for both of us. This tells you how minimally we interacted before; not even knowing that we both were going to the same graduate school.
I told her that I was majoring in Physics at Case. She, of course, was majoring in Math. After a chat about all this, I said that I was looking for the sandwich machines. She said that there was a diner nearby, and she was going there for dinner with someone else she had just met so I went, too. Thus, Rita and I reunited in Cleveland, now living in the same building.
In a short while, I made friends with a group of people in the Graduate House with diverse majors. Some were in various sciences, others in humanities. It was a lively group, with animated discussions on a range of academic topics, including politics, especially as the Vietnam War became the center of the news in the USA.
Rita was not a part of that group, but I did often see her. Being the eager student that I was, I was up early, getting to the university to study in the library before classes started. Coming to the dining room for breakfast, not long after it opened, I often saw Rita, too – all alone in a far corner. I took my tray and we had breakfast together. Except for that morning ritual, I seldom had any interactions with her.
Thinking about this now, I find the parallel morning rituals (first in Pittsburgh and then in Cleveland) a fascinating serendipitous episode in my life. The difference was that in Cleveland, we were not taking the same courses so we didn’t have to compare solutions to homework. We did talk about our respective courses, and interestingly a parallel appeared. By around mid-term of that first year in graduate school, we both were less than enthusiastic about what we were learning and, accordingly, were both thinking of not carrying on in our respective subjects.
For me it was Quantum Mechanics and the impossibility for us to know reality in itself. Everything was statistical, uncertain and almost esoteric. I found the uncritical attitude toward this world-view to be almost religious in nature. (I only learned later that Einstein felt the same way!)
For Rita, it was the same, despite the different fields. The math now was far beyond basic geometry, algebra and calculus. Topology, Group Theory, Galois’ Theory, and more – all culminating in Gödel’s Theorem, which asserts that all mathematical knowledge is inherently incomplete. It all was too esoteric for her. She knew that she was not going to get a PhD in mathematics.
We commiserated together, with another parallel in our unusual relationship, but with a difference. I still wanted to get my Master’s Degree and somehow still go on to get a job as a professor – that had been my goal in life ever since my first semester at Duquesne. Rita, however, was thinking of dropping out immediately and leaving university life altogether.
For me, this problem was resolved in my second year of Physics at Case, when I took a course taught by Martin Klein. Although he was a physicist in the Department, for many years he no longer was doing research in it. Instead, he was writing papers on the history of the subject – mainly involving Einstein, Boltzmann, Gibbs, Ehrenfest and others. Today those papers are paragons in the field. It was my extremely good luck that the department permitted him to teach such material for the first time.
I loved the course. I was enthralled by the topics – this was the way I wanted to learn physics, through its history. After getting my Master’s in Physics at the end of that year, I moved across campus to the History of Science Department. In another four years I had a PhD in the subject.
Back to early 1965: I tried to talk Rita out of dropping out, but she was adamant. The kicker was this: she really preferred numbers with $$$$ in front of them. Yes, she wanted to be an accountant. She didn’t want to waste any more time here, when she could be home getting her accounting credentials. As I recall, sometime before the spring of that year she went back to Pittsburgh. I’m sure she had an easy time getting her accounting licence and all that went with it. As she was very smart. My guess is that she was an excellent accountant and was very successful in that career.
I have no way of knowing. We didn’t keep in touch (honestly, I don’t know why not) and I can’t even remember her last name. All that I can recall is what I’ve written here. Nonetheless, I find these two interactions between Rita and me an interesting and pleasing tidbit about life and relationships – so much so that I deem it worthy of repeating here.
David R. Topper writes in Winnipeg, Canada. His work has appeared in Mono, Poetic Sun, Discretionary Love, Poetry Pacific, Academy of the Heart & Mind, Altered Reality Mag. and elsewhere.
His poem Seascape with Gulls: My Father’s Last Painting won first prize in the annual poetry contest of CommuterLit Mag – May 12, 2025.
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How to read fixed, daily, and progressive jackpot labels at Betscore Casino
Modern casino lobbies feature distinctive jackpot tags designed for easy recognition across various game tiles. Browsing through Bet Score, you will see that the platform uses a consistent system to present fixed, daily, and progressive jackpot displays. This brief guide explains how these labels are typically formatted, offering visual cues so you can confidently interpret each jackpot category. Betscore Casino presents these markers in a clear and recognizable way.
Across the lobby, jackpot labels act as immediate visual indicators that separate one game’s prize structure from another. These tags use bold text, simple icons, and standard placements, which makes scanning for your preferred jackpot type quick and intuitive. While game tiles may share basic design language, the wording on a label—along with visual styling such as meters or timers—lets you know at a glance whether a jackpot is static, day-specific, or incrementally building. Familiarizing yourself with these UI elements helps you compare options in Betscore Casino without clicking through each game panel. Understanding the visual symbolism of these badges saves time and keeps your focus on how casino interfaces communicate essential details about their jackpot mechanics.
Decoding fixed and daily jackpot displays in casino lobbies
When you spot a “Fixed” jackpot label in the lobby, it indicates a set prize amount displayed the same way every time you encounter it. This number stays constant, appearing directly on the game’s tile or badge and often repeating on the game’s detail page, to minimize ambiguity. The layout generally favors a clean, uncluttered presentation, with the static number supported by an icon or highlighted term that reinforces its status as unchanging. In Betscore Casino, these design choices create a straightforward reading experience where the fixed amount sits front-and-center beside the badge, making it easy to identify among multiple game tiles.
For “Daily” jackpot displays, the interface uses visual cues to highlight the time-based nature of the prize. You’ll often see the jackpot label paired with a reference to days or a timer-style icon, sometimes in the form of a calendar symbol or a clearly defined time window. These elements are usually grouped with the label and placed at the top or side of the tile so you can instantly tell that the jackpot is awarded on a daily basis. The combination of wording and visual accompaniments ensures that the daily structure stands out. This consistent tagging makes daily jackpots particularly easy to sort when scanning the available offerings.
How progressive jackpot meters stand apart and quick display checks
Within the lobby, “Progressive” jackpot labels are closely linked with animated or meter-style visual treatments. The jackpot amount is shown as an ever-increasing figure, typically larger or highlighted in a contrasting color, to draw attention to its dynamic nature. Often, the progressive badge sits beside or above this meter, so the relationship between label and rolling number is obvious and direct. In Betscore Casino, this design philosophy visually distinguishes progressive jackpots from fixed or daily options at a glance, creating an immediate sense of anticipation around the changing prize amount each time you browse the lobby.
When identifying jackpot types quickly, three main cues make reading the tags straightforward. Fixed jackpots always feature a stable, non-animated number next to their badge, keeping things simple and clear. Daily jackpots consistently add a day-based timeframe indicator, which could be text or a countdown, usually positioned close to the label for easy association. Progressive jackpots, by contrast, are marked by a running total or animated meter, making them stand out as prize amounts increase. Paying attention to these conventions, you’ll find it much easier to compare options and navigate the jackpot categories provided with confidence and efficiency.
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Some random thoughts on the AMIA bombing, Operation Solomon, Arab migration to Palestine, and Jeffrey Epstein
By BERNIE BELLAN When I received an email from an Ethiopian Jew who is now living in Winnipeg who reminded me of the incredible efforts made by so many different people to help rescue Ethiopia’s Jewish population and bring them to Israel during Operation Solomon in 1991 (Operation Solomon) I began to ask myself why that particular event doesn’t get paid more attention within our own Jewish community here?
Recently our community held another commemoration of the AMIA bombing in 1994 in Buenos Aires, which claimed the lives of 85 people (not all Jewish) and injured over 300. Each year B’nai Brith holds a solemn ceremony during which 85 candles are lit and the names of the deceased are read out.
Yes, that was a horrific tragedy, but I wonder how much it still resonates with people. There have been so many other horrible events since that AMIA bombing, including of course the massacre of October 7, but more recently there was also the Bondi Beach attack in Australia last December, during which 15 people were killed and 40 injured. Are we also going to have commemorative events held here in Winnipeg going forward to mark that particular event?
Compare the solemnity with which tragic events such as the AMIA bombing and the October 7 massacre are remembered with the total lack of celebration of something that should be as uplifting as was Operation Solomon. Could it be because Operation Solomon happened in far away Africa and the people who were rescued were black – and seemed so foreign to those of us who can even remember what happened in 1991? I don’t know whether there’s an element of racism involved in the lack of recognition anywhere of Operation Solomon, but I thought it most interesting when I was rereading articles in The Jewish Post & News written by the one individual in our Jewish community who did more to help in the rescue of Ethiopian Jews than anyone else – the late Elliot Levine, and Levine noted the total lack of support from the Winnipeg Jewish Community Council for what was known as “The Committee for Ethiopian Jews,” I couldn’t help but wonder how much race has played a part in sidelining Operation Solomon as a momentous event in the recent history of the Jewish people.
When one considers how much attention is paid to the AMIA bombing, which affected people who, simply put, look more like us, to the lack of attention paid to Operation Solomon – well, I think you get my point.
The Ethiopian Jewish community now living in Israel has had a difficult time being accepted by mainstream Israelis, but over the years many members of that community have made significant contributions to Israeli society and the more recent descendants of the original Jews who were brought to Israel are now proud Israelis. It would be nice for our own community to hold some sort of event to mark Operation Solomon, since it is now the 35th year since that momentous achievement occurred.
Speaking of past achievements, the furor over the Nakba exhibit at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights has continued to spark heated discussion. I’ve received a number of emails from various members of our community responding to articles I’ve written about the Nakba exhibit (and in some cases articles written by others that have appeared in the Jewish Post). I don’t mind admitting that I’m not at all sure where I stand on the whole issue of the Nakba exhibit. I can see the merits of arguments that have been made on both sides of the issue and I try to keep an open mind as I hear different perspectives. But, no matter what argument is being made, I encourage everyone to listen to what people have to say and think carefully about the pros and cons of the particular points being made.
As I noted in an earlier column, rather than descending into an argument over which group has a more valid reason to feel aggrieved – Palestinians who were forced to leave their homes in Palestine (and I’m not going to debate whether the majority left willingly or not; that’s an issue that will never be resolved to anyone’s satisfaction) or Jews who were forced to leave their homes in Arab lands, I’d rather concentrate on thinking about where can we go from here?
Unfortunately, the clear consensus in Israel now seems to be that there can never be a Palestinian state and even those politicians who might have been willing to enter into at least some sort of discussion about the possible creation of a Palestinian state have moved so far to the right – in response to the clear shift in public opinion in Israel that sees no room for even contemplating a Palestinian state, that the issue of a future Palestinian state has been completely taken off the table.
At the same time though, as much as I’m generally sympathetic to the Palestinian aspiration to have a state of their own, just as I prefer to refer to historical evidence when it comes to debating what actually happened during the “Nakba,” I also like to look at the evidence surrounding just how many true Palestinians there are.
By that, I mean how many people who call themselves Palestinians can trace their roots back to the actual land which can be referred to as “Palestine.” Remember that there was no such thing as “Palestine” per se until the British Mandate over Palestine began officially in 1923. Prior to that what we now regard as “Palestine” was simply part of the Ottoman Empire.
According to figures compiled by one of the pre-eminent experts on demographic in the Ottoman Empire, Professor Justin McCarthy, there were approximately 500,000 Arabs in what is referred to as Palestine at the turn of the 20th Century, while there were approximately 23,000 Jews.
By 1945 the Arab population of Palestine had grown by over 600,000 to approximately 1,100,000 while the Jewish population had grown to over 550,000. There is much debate over whether a good part of the increase in the Arab population was due to the surge in economic activity brought on by the influx of Jews, but let’s leave that argument aside for the moment. A point that I made in another column about the Arab population of Palestine at the time when Israel was declared a state is that approximately 750,000 Arabs left what had been Palestine – but whether they left voluntarily or not was irrelevant to me. What was relevant to me, I emphasized, was that there could not have been a “Jewish” state with a majority Arab population.
I have heard nothing from those who would criticize the Nakba exhibit at the CMHR about that point.
Again – as I noted previously, I’m not arguing the morality of what happened to the Palestinians; I’m simply making the observation that Israel could not have come about had those 750,000 Arabs who did leave had chosen to stay. I don’t suppose my making that point makes one whit of difference to anyone who is criticizing the CMHR exhibit. I just wanted to reiterate my support for looking at what happened in 1948 objectively. And I’m well aware that even suggesting that one can be “objective” about such a contentious issue is up for debate – but can’t we even try for a little objectivity?
Finally, what about Jeffrey Epstein – and what’s he got to do with everything I’ve just written?
Well, it was the persistently nagging questions surrounding Epstein’s relationship with Trump that led directly to Trump deciding to join in with Netanyahu and attack Iran. Trump was desperate to “change the channel,” especially when so many of his diehard MAGA supporters kept asking questions about why Trump was so keen to put the Epstein issue aside. So now Trump is caught up in a war that he thought would divert attention from Epstein, but the most likely scenario is that he’ll end up trying to bring the war to a conclusion by ceding control over the Hormuz Strait to Iran and abandoning the notion of forcing Iran to give up its quest for a nuclear weapon. And if the only way to reduce Trump’s march toward total authoritarianism is to elect enough Democrats to at least take over the House of Representatives then what we’re going to see is a bunch of “woke” Democrats in Congress who will be wanting to end American support for Israel – and, they’ll be pushing for a Palestinian state.
Thank you, Jeffrey Epstein, for being the cause of this whole mess.
