Glenn: Don't be THAT church person

Ok, don’t just read the headline and freak out!

On radio Tuesday, Glenn delivered a passionate monologue on the difference between people who just go to church, and people who really bring the church with them and live their testimony in all of their actions. For too long, Americans have failed to take a stand on the issues that matter. In the words of Thomas Paine, “these are the times that try men’s souls” - will we have the strength to endure them?

Listen to Glenn’s powerful message from the opening of today's radio show below:

Below is a rush transcript of this segment, it mat contain errors:

It was December 23rd, 1776. We were six months into the Revolution. We had lost every single battle. George Washington was on the southern side of -- of the Delaware. And he needed to turn his troops around and cross the Delaware and go up and fight the Hessians. They were the Navy SEALs of the day.

Everyone was saying that George Washington was a failure, and we had gone from 20,000 troops. And we were down to less than 2,000 troops. And nobody wanted to get into the boat and go across the river. Somewhere in the countryside, Thomas Paine, a guy who later became an atheist, was marching in the mud. And he was marching next to a drum.

And a few words kept pounding through his head, and he finally asked the drummer for the head of his trust me, because he didn't have any paper on him. He wrote a few words down. Rolled them up. Gave them to a writer. And said, get this to Philadelphia. Have them print it. And then find George Washington, he needs these words.

They arrived at the side of George Washington on December 24th, 1776. He read them. He wept. He went to his troops. And he read them.

Out loud, he said, these are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will in this crisis shrink from the service of their country. But he that stands by it now deserves the love and thanks of many men and women. Tyranny, like hell, isn't easily conquered, yet we have the consolidation with us that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain to cheap, we esteem too lightly. It is dearness only that gives everything its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods, and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated.

Whether we should have started this movement long ago or we started too soon, I'm not going to enter the argument. I had my own simple opinion. We didn't use the proper use of the time that we have had. However, the fault, if there be one, is our own. We have no one to blame, but ourselves.

As I read this this morning, I thought to myself, how true that is. Why are we so surprised? We went along to get along. We went along because we didn't want any trouble. I don't want any trouble, and it doesn't matter anyway. Whatever they say, that's fine. It's not going to change anything.

I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings. I'll just be quiet. Don't talk about religion. Don't talk about politics in public. I'm going on to see that movie anyway because I really -- I mean, I know -- my kids know the difference.

It's our failure. It's our failure to stand. Should we have started this long ago? Yeah, probably. But why debate that now?

The only one we have to blame on any of this is us.

How many of us just stopped going to church, and we stopped going to church for a couple of reasons. One, lazy. It's not going to be make a difference. I'm not really sure God exists. Whatever. I'm tired. I'm working all the time.

Or some good reasons. They're not teaching me anything. There's no relevance there. It really doesn't make a difference. Because I go into church and then by the time I hit the parking lot, everybody is honking at each other. Nobody knows each other.

It doesn't make an impact in my life at all. Why am I going to church? That's a failure, not only of the pulpit, but, again, of us. Because we didn't demand that our pulpits would stand. How many of us -- how many of us go to a church right now that isn't talking about things? And have we thought, they're not talking about things because they're afraid. They're afraid that you're going to say something.

Have you thought about getting a bunch of the people that you go to church with and signing a petition and saying, we want you to talk about these things, pastor, priest, rabbi. We want a few things addressed. And all of us are going to stand behind you if you do. Don't worry about what comes. This storm, we will be the shelter from your storm. Because we need to hear the truth on these things.

How many of us went to church and we never talked about -- we never talked about the traditional family. We never talked about abortion. We never talked about euthanasia. We're not talking about the Christians being killed now overseas. We're not talking about the four homosexuals that were thrown off the roof Friday in celebration that love always wins.

We can argue about when we should have started it. What we should have done. We can have that discussion. But why? It's worthless. How about we start right now. How about we start standing right now.

I had to give a talk at church, a youth conference on Saturday. They were about 1500 kids. And I think I took their breath away because I walked up in front of them and I said, you know what, I have to tell you, I don't really like church people. There's kind of a nervous laughter, but they knew that I was serious.

I don't like church people. I don't like church people in most churches because church people are the most judgmental people I've ever met in my life. Church people will tell me their testimony. Oh, that's fantastic. Thank you very much for sharing that.

Here's what I like: I like people who live their testimony. I don't have to ask you for your testimony because I see it in your life.

I don't have to ask you if you go to church because you bring church with you everywhere you go. Everywhere you go is a sacred place.

You live those principles. Not on Sunday when you go. Not on Saturday. But you live them all the time. I don't like church people because church people understand that church is a place that I go on Sunday, and testimony is something that I share occasionally when asked or I have the opportunity to change someone's heart, so I'll share my testimony. I like the people that understand that church is wherever you are and testimony is exactly how I live my life.

I like people that happen to look at church as a hospital. Because that's what it is for me. It's a hospital for my soul. Because I'm on the verge of losing my soul every day. I don't know about you. And if you don't think that you're going to come under attack because these are the times that try men's souls, if you don't think you're going to come under attack with your soul, and everything that, you know, you're fooling yourself.

I need to get in there because I'm so badly wounded, by the time I get to Sunday, I need some medicine. I need some help. I need to be able to make it the next seven days. I don't like church people generally because they worry so much about everybody else's soul. And that's nice. And I appreciate that. And I appreciate their prayers. I really do. But church people generally worry about everybody else's soul so much more than theirs. Because they've accepted Jesus Christ, and that's all they have to do. I'm good. No, no, no, I accepted him. What?

I'm sorry. But I don't buy that. I buy that if you have accepted him, that -- people can spot you a million miles away. When you walk into a room, the room changes. You're different. Because you've accepted him, you've changed. You're not like everybody else. You're quieter. You're more gentle. You understand what your citizenship means, and you're concerned about your citizenship in the kingdom.

See, we've all been so concerned about this kingdom. We've been so concerned about this country. And our citizenship in this country. TIME Magazine said we're exiles in our own land. That's TIME Magazine over the weekend. We're exiles in our own land. We've lost our citizenship, gang. Why? Because we've been quiet.

And we haven't trusted the power of God. We say a bunch of stuff, but I don't think we even believe that stuff. Why are we so defeated? Do you not -- tell me that everything that you don't understand and you don't believe, that everything is according to his will. That everything will be used for the good of those who love him.

I do. So why are we defeated? We're defeated because we worry about everybody else. We're defeated because we see what's happening on television. We see what people are like in colleges. We see what people are like in our own business. We see what people are posting. But we don't see what he's doing. Because we're not taking any time to be quiet enough, humble enough, to listen to what he's doing. To find out what he's doing. And what he's doing right now, I'm convinced, is he's preparing his people. Gird up your loins.

Do you know what that means? Gird up your loins. It's when those guys used to wear those -- I don't know -- what do you call those -- dress things. And they didn't have pants. So what you had to do was you reached down from behind your legs and you grabbed the skirt thing that you were wearing -- your tunic, and you pulled it up behind you. Then you took each end of it and you tied it in front of you so it became almost like a diaper. Why? Because you were about to go into battle. You needed to move quickly. You couldn't be tripping on your tunic.

Gird up your loins. That's what he's telling his people right now. Gird them up. Get ready. You haven't seen anything yet. You haven't seen evil yet. You don't even know what's coming your way. But have faith in me because evil doesn't have any idea what's coming its way.

We lost our first citizenship. I'm not going to lose my second citizenship. And that's the only one I care about. And, yes, I care about your citizenship, and I will pray for you. My family and I pray for you every day. And I hope you pray for me every day. And I will worry about others. And I will talk to them about the truth at any time that I can. But I will live my testimony. So I don't have to talk to everybody because there's too many people to talk to.

Hopefully they will see it, and they will say, I want to be more like that guy. Because that's the way I learned. My friend, Pat, I wanted to be more like that guy. He could weather the storms that I couldn't. Why?

Because he knew what the truth was.

Now is the time. You let him and his word be your sword. You let him be your shield. But we must be gentle. We must be loving. We must clothe ourselves in humility. We must be bold, yet humble. Bold, yet kind. Bold, yet loving.

That's hard. We've never done that before.

There's a lot coming. Thomas Paine said, I once felt that kind of anger which men ought to feel. But I was standing at the door of a tavern with a man who had a pretty child at his hand, about eight or nine years old. And after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent, he said, just give me peace in my day.

But if there be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child should have peace.

He said, I thank God that I fear not, for I see no real cause for fear. I'm going to quit this class of men. Men who are smarter, perhaps than I. Or wealthier than I. I turn with warm ardor of a friend, those who have nobly stood and are yet determined to stand the matter out. I call not upon a few, but upon all. Not on this state or that state, but on every state to help us. Lay your shoulder to the wheel. It's better to have too much force than too little.

Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing, but hope and virtue could possibly survive, that the city in the country alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet it and repulse it. Say not that thousands were gone. Turn out your tens of thousands. Throw not the burden on the day to Providence, but show your faith by your works that God may bless us.

It matters not where you live or what rank of life you hold. The evil or the blessing will reach you all. The far and the near. The home counties and the back. The rich and the poor. Will suffer or rejoice alike. That heart that feels it not right now is dead. And the blood of his children will curse his cowardice. The man who shrinks back at a time when a little might might have saved the whole and made them happy. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and that can grow brave by reflection.

Glenn Beck: Adam Schiff is a LIAR — and we have the proof

Image source: Glenn Beck Program on BlazeTV

On the radio program Wednesday, Glenn Beck didn't hold back when discussing the latest in a long list of lies issued by House Intelligence Committee Chairman Adam Schiff (D-Calif.) during the Democrats' ongoing endeavor to remove President Donald Trump from office.

"I'm going to just come out and say, Adam Schiff is a liar. And he intentionally lied. And we have the proof. The media being his little lapdog, but I'll explain what's really going on, and call the man a liar to his face," Glenn asserted. "No, I'm not suggesting he's a liar. No, I'm telling you, he's a liar. ... Adam Schiff is a lying dirtbag."

A recent report in Politico claimed Schiff "mischaracterized" the content of a document sent to House Judiciary Chairman Jerry Nadler (D-N.Y.) as evidence against President Trump in the Senate impeachment trial. Read more on this here.

"Let me translate [for Politico]," Glenn said. "House Intelligence Chairman Adam Schiff lied about a text message exchange between two players in the Ukrainian saga. And we know it, because of the documents that were obtained by Politico."

A few of the other lies on Schiff's list include his repeated false claims that there was "significant evidence of collusion" between the Trump campaign and Russia leading up to the 2016 presidential election, his phony version of President Trump's phone call with the president of Ukraine, and his retracted claim that neither he nor his committee ever had contact with the Trump-Ukraine whistleblower. And the list just keeps getting longer.

Watch the video below for more details:

Use code BECK to save $10 on one year of BlazeTV.

Want more from Glenn Beck?

To enjoy more of Glenn's masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution and live the American dream.

On the radio program Tuesday, Glenn Beck and Stu Burguiere discussed recent reports that former Vice President Joe Biden's son, Hunter, wasn't the only family member to capitalize on his connections to land an unbelievably lucrative job even though he lacked qualifications or experience.

According to Peter Schweizer's new book, "Profiles in Corruption: Abuse of Power by America's Progressive Elite," Joe Biden's younger brother, Frank, enjoyed the benefit of $54 million in taxpayer loans during the Obama administration to try his hand at an international development venture.

A lawyer by training, Frank Biden teamed up with a developer named Craig Williamson to build a sprawling luxury resort in Costa Rica, which claimed to be on a mission to preserve the country's forests but actually resulted in the decimation of thousands of acres of wilderness.

The then-vice president's brother also reportedly earned hundreds of thousands of dollars as the front man of a for-profit charter school company called Mavericks in Education.

The charter schools, which focused on helping at-risk teens, eventually failed after allegations of mismanagement and a series of lawsuits derailed the dubious business venture.

Watch the video below to get Glenn's take on these latest revelations in the Biden family corruption saga:

Use code BECK to save $10 on one year of BlazeTV.

Want more from Glenn Beck?

To enjoy more of Glenn's masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution and live the American dream.

Ryan: Bernie at the disco

Photo by Sean Ryan

Saturday at El Malecón, we waited for the Democratic socialist. He had the wild white hair like a monk and the thick glasses and the booming voice full of hacks and no niceties.

Photo by Sean Ryan

The venue had been redecorated since we visited a few nights before when we chatted with Castro. It didn't even feel like the same place. No bouncy castle this time.

Photo by Sean Ryan

A black curtain blocked the stage, giving the room a much-needed depth.

Behind the podium, two rows of mostly young people, all holding Bernie signs, all so diverse and picturesque and strategic.

Photo by Sean Ryan

Lots of empty seats. Poor showing of Bernie fans for a Saturday afternoon. At one point, someone from Bernie's staff offered us seats in the audience, as if eager to fill up those seats however possible.

There were about 75 people in the dancehall, a place built for reunions and weddings and all those other festivities. But for a few hours on Saturday, August 10, 2019, it turned serious and wild for "Unidos Con Bernie."

Photo by Sean Ryan

People had been murmuring about Sanders' speech from the night before at Wing Ding. By all appearances, he had developed a raving lust to overthrow Trump. He had even promised, with his wife just out of view, that, were he elected, he'd end white nationalism in America. For good.

El Malecón lacked its previous air of celebration. It had undertaken a brooding yet defiant spirit. Media were sparse. Four cameras faced the podium. Three photographers, one of whom had been at nearly all the same events as us. A few of the staffers frowned at an empty row of chairs, because there weren't that many chairs to begin with.

At the entrance, Bernie staff handed out headsets that translated English to Spanish or Spanish to English, depending on who the speaker was. The translators stood behind the bar, 20 feet from the podium, and spoke into a lip-ribbon microphone.

Bernie's staff was probably the coolest, by far. As in, they looked cool and acted stylishly. Jeans. Sandals. Careworn blazers. Tattoos. One lad had a black Levi's shirt with lush crimson roses even though he wasn't a cowboy or a ranch-hand. Mustaches. Quirky hats. A plain green sundress. Some of them wore glasses, big clunking frames.

Photo by Sean Ryan

The outfits were distinctly Bernie. As Bernie as the tie-dyed "BERNIE" shirts for sale outside the club. Or later, at the Hilton, like a Grateful Dead cassette stand.

Immigration was the theme, and everyone in the audience bore some proof of a journey. Because America offers life, freedom, and hope.

Sanders' own father emigrated from Poland to America at 17, a high school dropout who could barely speak English. As a Jew, he'd faced religious persecution.

Within one generation, Bernie Sanders' father contributed to the highest stratum of American society. In one generation, near hopelessness had transformed into Democracy, his son a congressman with a serious chance at the presidency.

Photo by Sean Ryan

That's the beauty of America. Come here broken and empty and gutted and voiceless. And, within your lifetime, you can mend yourself then become a pillar of society. Then, your son can become the President of the United States of America!

Four people gave speeches before Sanders. They took their time, excited and nervous. They putzed. Because how often do you get to introduce a presidential frontrunner?

All the native English speakers jammed their earpieces when the woman with the kind and dark energy took the stage.

Photo by Sean Ryan

She mumbled in Spanish and did not look up and said that, when her parents died, she couldn't go home for the funeral. She fought back tears. She swallowed hard to shock herself calm. And the room engulfed each silence between every word.

It felt more like a therapy session than a political rally. A grueling therapy session at that. Was that what drew people to Bernie Sanders, that deep anguish? That brisk hope? Or, rather, the cessation of it, through Sanders? And, of course, the resultant freedom? Was it what gave Sanders a saintlike ability to lead people into the realm of the confessional? Did he have enough strength to lead a revolution?

Photo by Sean Ryan

While other frontrunners hocked out money for appearances, like the studio lights, Sanders spent money on translators and ear-pieces. The impression I got was that he would gladly speak anywhere. To anyone. He had the transitory energy you can capture in the writings of Gandhi.

Photo by Sean Ryan

I'm not saying he's right or wrong — I will never make that claim, about any of the candidates, because that's not the point of this, not the point of journalism, amen — what I'm saying is he has the brutal energy of someone who can take the subway after a soiree or rant about life by a tractor or chuck it up with Sarah Silverman, surrounded wherever he goes.

Without the slightest fanfare, Sanders emerged from behind the black curtain. The woman at the podium gasped a little. The room suctioned forward when he entered. In part because he was so nonchalant. And, again. That magnetism to a room when a famous or powerful or charming person enters. Not many people have it. Not many can keep it. Even fewer know how to brace it, to cull it on demand. But several of the candidates did. One or two even had something greater.

Photo by Sean Ryan

I'll only say that Bernie had it with a bohemian fervor, like he was a monk stranded in a big city that he slowly brings to God.

"We have a President who, for the first time in my lifetime, who is a President who is a racist," he shouted. "Who is a xenophobe and anti-immigrant. Who is a sexist. Who is a religious bigot. And who, is a homophobe. And, what is very disappointing is that, when we have a President, we do not necessarily expect to agree with him, or her, on every issue. But we do believe that one of the obligations is to bring people to-geth-ah. As Americans."

Photo by Sean Ryan

After listening silently for several minutes, the audience clapped. Their sweet response felt cultish. But, then again, what doesn't feel cultish these days? So this was cultish like memes are cultish, in a striving-to-understand kind of way.

"The essence of our campaign is in fact to bring people together," he said. "Whether they're black, or white, or latino, or Native American, or Asian-American. We understand that we are Americans."

At times, this meant sharing a common humanity. Others, it had a slightly more disruptive feel. Which worked. Sometimes all we want is revolution. To be wild without recourse. To overthrow. To pass through the constraints of each day. To survive. The kind of rowdy stuff that makes for good poetry but destroys credit lines. Sanders radiated with this intensity, like a reclusive philosopher returning to society, from his cave to homes and beds and fences and maybe electricity.

Photo by Sean Ryan

But, as he says, his revolution would involve healthcare and wages and tuition, not beheadings and purges and starvation.

Seeing the Presidential candidates improvise was amazing. They did it constantly. They would turn any of their beliefs into a universal statement. And Sanders did this without trying. So he avoided doing the unbearably arrogant thing of pretending to speak like a native Guatemalan, and he looked at the group of people, and he mumbled in his cloudy accent:

"My Spanish — is not so good."

Photo by Sean Ryan

This is the same and the opposite of President Trump's Everyman way of speaking English like an American. Of speaking American.

Often, you know what Sanders will say next. You can feel it. And, anytime this happened, it brought comfort to the room.

Like, it surprised no one when he said that he would reinstate DACA on his first day in office. It still drew applause.

But other times, he expressed wild ideas with poetic clarity. And his conclusions arrived at unusual junctures. Not just in comparison to Republicans. To all of them. Bernie was the Tupac of the 2020 election. And, to him, President Trump was Suge Knight, the evil force behind it all.

"Donald Trump is an idiot," he shouted.

Photo by Sean Ryan

Everybody loved that. Everybody clapped and whooped and some even whistled like they were outside and not in a linoleum-floor dancehall.

"Go get 'em, Bernie," someone in the back shouted.

This was the only Sanders appearance with no protestors.

"Let me say this about the border," he shouted. And everybody listened to every thunking syllable. He probably could have spoken without a mic. Booming voice. Loud and clear. Huddling into that heavy Vermont slug accent.

They'll say many many things about Bernie. One being, you never had to lean forward to hear him. In person, even more so. He's less frail. More dynamic.

Photo by Sean Ryan

Despite the shoddiness of the venue, there was a sign language interpreter. Most of the rallies had a designated interpreter.

"If you work 40 hours a week you shouldn't be living in poverty," he shouted, provoking chants and applause from the audience, as if he were talking about them. Maybe he was.

An anecdote about the people at an emergency food shelf blended into the livable wage of $15 an hour. He shifted into his spiel about tuition-free college and pointed at the audience, "You're not doing well," then at the kids behind him, "they are." He craned his head sideways and back. "Do your homework," he told said.

Laughter.

Half of the kids looked like they hadn't eaten in days. Maybe it was their unusual situation, a few feet from Bernie Sanders at a stucco community center.

Before the room could settle, Sanders wove through a plan for how to cancel debt.

Did he have a solution?

Tax Wall Street, he shouted.

Photo by Sean Ryan

And he made it sound easy. "Uno dos trey," he said. "That's my Spanish for today."

A serious man, he shoved through his speech like a tank hurtling into dense jungle. He avoided many of the typical politician gimmicks. Proof that he did not practice every expression in front of a mirror. That he did not hide his accent. That he did not preen his hair. That he did not smile for a precise amount of time, depending on the audience. That he did not pretend to laugh.

Photo by Sean Ryan

He laughed when humor overtook him. But it was genuine. With none of the throaty recoil you hear in forced laughter.

"I want everyone to take a deep breath," he said. And a palpable lightness spread through the room, because a deep breath can solve a lot of problems.

Photo by Sean Ryan

Then he roused some more. "Healthcare is a human right," he shouted. "A human privilege," he shouted. He told them that he lives 50 miles from the Canadian border in Burlington, Vermont, and healthcare works better up north.

Each candidate had a bad word, and Sanders' was "corporate."

Photo by Sean Ryan

At every speech, he mentioned "corporate media" with the same distrust and unpleasantness that conservatives derive from the term "mainstream media." Another would be "fake news," as popularized by Sanders' sworn enemy. Either way it's the same media. Just different motivations that irk different people.

But the discrepancies varied. Meaning two opposing political movements disliked the same thing, but for opposite reasons.
It sounded odd, Sanders' accusation that the media were against him. The media love Bernie. I can confirm this both anecdotally and judiciously. Yes, okay, in 2016, the media appeared to have sided with Hillary Clinton. As a result, Sanders was publicly humiliated. Because Clinton took a mafioso approach to dealing with opponents, and Sanders was her only roadblock.

Imagine if a major political organization devoted part of each day to agitating your downfall. And then you fail. And who's fault is it?

Sanders wanted to know: those negative ads targeting him, who paid for them?

Photo by Sean Ryan

Corporations, of course. Corporations that hated radicals like him. And really was he so radical? He listed off the possibilities: Big pharma, insurance companies, oil companies.

Because he had become a revolutionary, to them. To many.

He said it with certainty, although he often didn't have to say it at all. This spirit of rebellion had become his brand. He would lead the wild Americans into a utopia.

But just as quickly, he would attack. Trump, as always, was the target.

He called Trump the worst president in American history.

"The fates are Yuge," he shouted.

The speech ended as informally as it had begun. And Sanders' trance over the audience evaporated, replaced by that suction energy. Everyone rushed closer and closer to the man as Neil Young's "Keep on Rockin in the Free World" blared. Sanders leaned into the podium and said, "If anyone wants to form a line, we can do some selfies."

Photo by Sean Ryan

It was like meeting Jesus for some of the people.

There he was, at El Malecón. No stage lights, no makeup, no stylist behind the curtain. Just him and his ideas and his erratic hand commotion.

Then a man holding a baby leaned in for a photo. He and Sanders chatted. And, I kid you not, the whole time the baby is staring at Bernie Sanders like he's the image of God, looking right up at him, with this glow, this understanding.

Bernie, if you're reading this, I'd like to suggest that — if this election doesn't work for you — you could be the next Pope.

New installments come Mondays and Thursdays. Check out my Twitter. Email me at kryan@blazemedia.com

On the "Glenn Beck Radio Program" Monday, Harvard Law professor and lawyer on President Donald Trump's impeachment defense team Alan Dershowitz explains the history of impeachment and its process, why the framers did not include abuse of power as criteria for a Constitutional impeachment, why the Democrats are framing their case the way they are, and what to look for in the upcoming Senate trial.

Dershowitz argued that "abuse of power" -- one of two articles of impeachment against Trump approved by House Democrats last month -- is not an impeachable act.

"There are two articles of impeachment. The second is 'obstruction of Congress.' That's just a false accusation," said Dershowitz. "But they also charge him, in the Ukraine matter, with abuse of power. But abuse of power was discussed by the framers (of the U.S. Constitution) ... the framers refused to include abuse of power because it was too broad, too open-ended.

"In the words of James Madison, the father of our Constitution, it would lead presidents to serve at the will of Congress. And that's exactly what the framers didn't want, which is why they were very specific and said a president can be impeached only for treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors," he added.

"What's alleged against President Trump is not criminal," added Dershowitz. "If they had criminal issues to allege, you can be sure they would have done it. If they could establish bribery or treason, they would have done it already. But they didn't do it. They instead used this concept of abuse of power, which is so broad and general ... any president could be charged with it."

Watch the video below to hear more details:



Use code BECK to save $10 on one year of BlazeTV.

Want more from Glenn Beck?

To enjoy more of Glenn's masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution and live the American dream.