Features
Two former Winnipeggers see short stories published
By BERNIE BELLAN It’s not easy for a writer to obtain recognition. How’s that for a cliché?
As someone who’s on the receiving end of numerous requests from publishers’ agents or often writers themselves, asking whether I’d be interested in reviewing a particular book or story, or perhaps interviewing the author, I know how difficult it is to get noticed in a world where tens of thousands of new titles appear every year.
But, as I’ve noted many times in this paper, I often try to go out of my way to help publicize new works by local Jewish writers or writers who may have come from Winnipeg but now live elsewhere – which seems to be a common pattern for writers in this city i.e., leave Winnipeg and hope to carve out a writing career somewhere else.
I’ve decided to profile the works of two young writers, both former Winnipeggers, and both of whom, interestingly enough, have chosen the short story genre as the primary form in which they are hoping to establish themselves.
By choosing to focus on two short story writers at the same time, my hope is that it might provide inspiration for other writers who may have thought at one time or another that perhaps they’d like to try their hand at writing a short story – with the hope of having it published. It’s certainly not an easy challenge to undertake, but the gratification that comes with finally seeing a work of yours published might make following up that initial accomplishment worth repeating.
Both writers, about whom I’m writing, as it turns out, are very close in age. Avra Love is 38, while Marcus Spiegel is 37, but when I asked either of them whether they knew one another, the answer was “no.”
The similarities don’t end there. Both studied English and Philosophy at university and both have worked as teachers – which is a natural, I suppose for a writer, and both have chosen to write fiction, although Marcus Spiegel tells me that he has also written some non-fiction.
And, while Avra Love is relatively new to the game, having just published an anthology of her stories, titled “Into the Junk Drawer and Other Stories,” Marcus Spiegel has had a number of his short stories published in American literary journals, one of which has just recently been awarded a very major prize.
Marcus says that he first began writing short stories when he was around 16, but it was only when “he was around 26 or 27” that he was “really inspired to be a writer.” Avra says that her first interest in writing was poetry, but she also tried her hand at writing “skits, young adult fiction, and children’s books.”
As for their Winnipeg backgrounds, it turns out that I’m well acquainted with both Avra’s and Marcus’s parents. Avra, as you might have guessed, is the daughter of Myron and Symma Love, while Marcus is the son of Jeff and Esther Spiegel.
Marcus, by the way, was brought to my attention by his in-laws, Neta and Yair Bourlas (who happen to live across the street from me). It was when I was talking with them one day that they mentioned they have a son-in-law who had recently been awarded a major award for a short story he had written. Marcus was one of 65 writers whose works were published recently in a very prestigious annual anthology of short stories, essays, and poems, known as “The Pushcart Prize” Series. Marcus’s story appears in the XLVI edition for the year 2022.
While Avra’s collection of short stories has only recently been published, she says that she has another collection of short stories which she’s hoping to publish soon, along with “a handful of children’s books awaiting illustrations.” She adds that “I would like to challenge myself to a longer piece, but haven’t hit upon the right idea just yet.”
Both Marcus and Avra like to use their imaginations to create scenarios that might seem somewhat implausible to the reader, but which draw upon experiences that they might have witnessed in some way or either read about or saw somewhere.
Marcus Spiegel’s award-winning short story, titled “A Tale of Two Trolls,” was first published in the Santa Monica Review, which is a national literary journal sponsored by Santa Monica College.
He says though that it took him quite a long time to be comfortable writing in a more contemporary style that would be accessible to readers. Prior to that realization, he notes, he was writing in a more “classical” style.
Just as Avra experimented with different genres before settling into short story writing, Marcus also tried his hand at poetry and writing a novel which, he says, “I guess turned into a novella.”
It’s easy for a writer starting out to be distracted by more mundane concerns, such as making a living – which is hardly something that anyone can expect to do writing short stories until you’ve achieved a certain level of success. As Avra Love notes, the process of writing is rewarding in itself: “Over the last year, I’ve begun trying to pen concepts without worrying so much about a traditional plotline. These stories have been a way to pay tribute to people in my life, to explore abstracts and metaphor, and to have fun with common expressions. Because they are so succinct, it is relatively quick to put them to page, in addition to being cathartic.”
As for the financial rewards associated with writing short stories, let’s be honest: No one starting out is likely to make much money doing that. Avra says she’s “been teaching since 2013, adding she’s “taught and tutored in all ages and subjects, worked in early child care, and done some editing work, as well.”
Both Avra and Marcus are married. (Marcus’s wife, Yarden, by the way, is also a teacher.) Marcus’s career has been somewhat eclectic, however. When they were both in their twenties, he says that he and Yarden spent quite a bit of time traveling. They actually ended up in South Korea for almost five years (from 2011-16), where they both had intended to teach English.
While Yarden did work as a teacher, Marcus says that because of bureaucratic red tape he wasn’t actually able to work as a teacher in Korea. Instead, he began working as an editor for a Korean woman who would give him things that had been translated from Korean to English and, as he says, “I would correct things for her and polish them.”
When Marcus and Yarden returned to Toronto, while Yarden acquired a teaching degree and began teaching full time, Marcus says that he began “picking up assignments” here and there.
In recent years he’s been submitting stories to various literary journals. Marcus says that he would typically send a story simultaneously to a number of different journals, with the hope that one of them would publish it.
Such was the case with “A Tale of Two Trolls,” which is quite an amusing read. It tells the story of two misfits named Yuri and Winch, who are both college dropouts. They have a YouTube show and podcast, and they purport to be “alt-right” activists, but their primary ambition in the story is to exact retribution on a former professor of Yuri’s by the name of Badendorf. It’s all quite deranged – and hilarious, especially when Winch dresses up as a frog wielding a samurai sword as he prepares to attack Professor Badendorf.
The story should appeal to young readers as it’s laced with all sorts of references to contemporary tropes having to do with the internet, but it would also certainly appeal to older readers as well who would get a kick out of how awkward Yuri and Winch are – Yuri especially when he happens to run into a former female friend by the name of Hannah while he’s prowling the halls of his former college. His desperate attempt to make small talk with Hannah while eating vegetables – to impress her (and which is something he hasn’t done in ages prior to that day) is quite hilarious.
It’s easy to see how such a terrific story would garner a major literary prize but, unfortunately, unless you’re able to pick up a copy of the Santa Monica Review from Spring, 2020, or you manage to acquire a copy of the 2022 edition of the Pushcart Prize anthology you won’t find “A Tale of Two Trolls” anywhere on the internet. However, the Pushcart Prize XLVI is available for order at McNally Robinson, Chapter’s, and Amazon.
That story sprang from Marcus’s imagination, but you can see how he fastened on to themes that are pervasive in an internet dominated world, especially the alienation from society and loneliness that so many people feel.
As for Avra’s writing, she too has a satirical bent in many of her stories. She notes that her “inspiration has come from a variety of sources. The more satirical ones are often based on personal experiences and observations; some ideas relate to people that I’ve known; still others occurred to me as I contemplated symbols around me (maps, flowers, the diversity of confections!) or when a certain phrase crossed my mind (heart of diamonds, opportunity knocks…).”
And, while Marcus has enjoyed some success in having a few of his short stories published, he admits that having his name become more familiar to readers is a challenge. “I have a primitive website,” he says (marcusspiegel.com).
As well, his interests are quite eclectic. A recent non-fiction story of his, he says, was titled “Century of the Hoax”, which he describes as a “history of hoaxes, from the 19th century to the present…and how they evolved into ‘misinformation’.”
In the fall, Marcus will have another piece published in Boulevard, which has published some of America’s top writers over the years. “It’s actually about professional wrestling, of all things,” he notes.
Avra Love tells me that “Into the Junk Drawer” is available on Amazon and in the Kindle Store, in paperback, hardcopy, and e-book formats.” She adds that she’s “currently looking into getting the book into the Chapters/Indigo store… but have yet to receive confirmation. Finally, one can order the book directly from Avra herself at avraklove@gmail.com or from her parents at myjolove1@gmail.com.
And, while being profiled in The Jewish Post & News might not be a surefire path to recognition for a writer, the way things work these days is that one thing can lead to another, perhaps in a painstaking manner, but eventually if you’re willing to keep at it, you might begin to attract a following.
But, after having communicated with both Avra Love and Marcus Spiegel, one realizes that writing is its own reward. It can be painfully difficult to sit down day after day – as Stephen King says a dedicated writer must force oneself to do (and as Méira Cook noted in our last issue she demands of herself as well), but once you’ve completed what you’ve set out to do, there’s a pride in having accomplished that task – whether or not what you’ve written is read by a great many others.
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.
Features
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.
Features
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.
