Glenn Beck: Crazy town Express



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GLENN: The people who are running this country, they're on a train to crazy town.

Let me give you the example. This is from the front page of today's Wall Street Journal. As the mile-high city gears up to host Democratic bash for 50,000 organizers, they are discovering the perils of trying to stage a political spectacle that is also politically correct. Wait until you hear this. Consider the fanny packs. The host committee for the Democratic National Convention wanted 15,000 fanny packs for volunteers but they had to be made from organic cotton, but they also needed to be made by organized labor, but they also needed to be made in the United States of America. Official merchandiser Bob DeMasse scoured the country. He says, that doesn't exist. Ditto for the baseball caps. We have union made caps, we have made in America caps, and we have organic caps, but we don't have something that is all three.

Now, I get to this part of the story and I highlight it and I think to myself, I don't think I need anymore. This is what these people are worried about? How much are you paying for gas? This is what they're worried about, whether their fanny packs come from organic cotton? You've got to be kidding me, right? I'm about to put it down but then something inside of me says no, no, no, there's got to be more. Oh, and yes, there is. There's a lot more. Try this one. They want to have balloons, but they need to make sure that the balloons are biodegradable. So they're looking for biodegradable balloons. Uh-huh. They also want to have air conditioning but they're worried about air conditioning because air conditioning isn't green. You've got to be kidding me. You're worried about balloons and air conditioning units?

What they've done on the balloon front is they bought the advertised, quote/unquote advertised biodegradable balloons and then they have taken them -- this is the Democratic National Committee. They have taken them and put a bunch of them in a steaming compost heap. The woman who was doing this was hired by the DNC's official carbon advisor. I'm about to lose my mind. May I just ask, is it just me, the official carbon advisor. Gang, I got news for you. I don't care if you're in the bakery business, I don't care if you sell cars, I don't care if you make cars out of hemp. You're going to have an official carbon advisor. Get used to that phrase.

So the official carbon advisor is with the person who is wearing the biodegradable balloons to test them and they are measuring the greenhouse gas emissions for every placard, every plane trip, every appetizer, every cup of coffee is going to be tested. The Democrats hope to pay penance for those emissions by investing in renewable energy products. So in other words, they are testing how many carbon units does it take to make this cup of coffee. They will test it and then they will pay in carbon credits. Some might say, what, are you insane? Others that are a little more tolerant than I am say, why don't you guys just stay home and do it all on the Internet. Just take everybody in. Technology is there. Everybody can just log online. You can have your little convention over the Internet. You really want to make a statement? There's a statement for you. Costs too much. It harms the Earth too much to fly. The carbon credit is just moving wealth from one pocket to the other. If you really care about the planet, we're all going to die in this horrible fiery flood, why have balloons? We don't need balloons. They're testing balloons. To police, the story goes on, to police the four-day event, August 25th through the 28th, they are assembling via paperless online sign-up a trash brigade decked out in green shirts, I hope that they're organic cotton shirts made by the union and in the United States. Decked out in green shirts, the 900 volunteers will hover at waste disposal stations. Is that a garbage can? I don't even know anymore. Is a waste disposal station, is that a garbage can? The 900 volunteers will hover at waste disposal stations to make sure delegates put each scrap of trash in the proper bin. Lest a fork slip through the wrong container unnoticed, volunteers will have to paw through every bag of garbage before it's hauled away. That's the only way to make sure it's pure, says a DNC spokesperson. May I again ask the question? Is it just me?

Let me ask a second question. How much are you paying for gas again? The Democrats -- it goes on. The Democrats are offering menus called Lean and Green. There are guidelines for the food now being served at the DNC. Among the guidelines, no fried food. And on the theory that nutritious food is more vibrant -- ready for this? On the theory that nutritious food is more vibrant, each meal -- this is according to the DNC guidelines -- each meal must include the following color, red, green, yellow, blue/purple and white. Garnishes don't count. May I again ask, is it just me? Am I alone? Is anybody else reading this and thinking, Good Lord, the only thing they haven't said yet is if you don't have red, green, yellow, blue, purple, and white on the plate, you're a racist. At least 70% of the ingredients should be organic and locally grown to minimize emissions from fuel burn during transportation. Well, why only 70%? Why not have all of it? You know, you can't have salt. Salt comes from sometimes the other side of the planet. Sea salt? What, are you raping the ocean of its precious minerals?

One would think, says Mr. Burns, that the Democrats in Denver have a bigger fish to bake. They've ruled out frying color coordinated pretzel planners. Democrats say the point is to build habits that will endure long after the convention. Can I tell you something? I could attend this but I'm never having a, what was it, carbon, official carbon advisor? I'm never hiring one of those people. I'm never going to ask any of my employees to paw through all of the trash, lest a fork slip through. I'm not going to make sure my garbage is pure. I'm just going to pretty much say, yeah, pretty close; haul it away. I'm never going to coordinate my plates to make sure, because I'm not going to test out the theory that nutritious food is more vibrant. If it looks good, I'll take it. Democrats say the point is to build habits that will endure long after the convention. To that end, the city has staged greening workshops attended by hundreds of caterers, restaurant owners and hotel managers. The mayor of Denver says it's the new patriotism. May I just point out something here? You know the Prius? The eco friendly car? I'm called a hate monger if I don't like Priuses. If I don't want an eco friendly car, I will kill the Earth, I'm a bad person, I need to be penalized, I need to be shut down, I can't say anything. My opinion doesn't count. My opinion is just ill informed. I'm stupid. I'm in the pocket of big oil, if I don't want to drive a Prius. If you imagine if, let's say the Bush administration would have said right after September 11th, something that he should have said, we're going to get off of foreign oil and the best way to get off of foreign oil is to reduce our consumption immediately and that's why I'm introducing this car over here. It's the Geo Metro. Well, that's what you might think, but we've renamed it. We're calling it the Geo Patriot. It's a patriotic car because it gets 50 miles per gallon. It's the new Geo Patriot. Can you imagine what Hollywood would have said if we would have said this is a patriotic car, gets you off of foreign oil. The left would have gone crazy: How dare you tell me what's patriotic. I'm tired of being told what's patriotic and what's not patriotic. Yet, the left can say the same damn thing. But, you know, it's not about the country. See, that's what makes them better than us. They care about the whole world, not just the country. They care about the entire planet and all of God, if he existed, all of God's children. Not just Americans. You small minded pea brain moron. You only care about the country. You and your patriotic car.

I would have never been able to get away with it. The President could have never gotten away with it. Hollywood would have come out and made a mockery out of the patriotic Geo, the new Geo Patriot, yet it's the same thing. It's the same damn thing that they're doing here.

Carter Page, a former advisor to Donald Trump's 2016 presidential campaign, found himself at the center of the Russia probe and had his reputation and career destroyed by what we now know were lies from our own intelligence system and the media.

On the TV show Thursday, Page joined Glenn Beck to speak out about how he became the subject of illegal electronic surveillance by the FBI for more than two years, and revealed the extent of the corruption that has infiltrated our legal systems and our country as a whole.

"To me, the bigger issue is how much damage this has done to our country," Page told Glenn. "I've been very patient in trying to ... find help with finding solutions and correcting this terrible thing which has happened to our country, our judicial system, DOJ, FBI -- these once-great institutions. And my bigger concern is the fact that, although we keep taking these steps forward in terms of these important findings, it really remains the tip of the iceberg."

Page was referencing the report by Justice Department Inspector General Michael Horowitz, which revealed that the FBI made "at least 17 significant errors or omissions" in its Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) applications for warrants to spy on Page, a U.S. citizen.

"I think this needs to be attacked from all angles," Glenn said. "The one angle I'm interested in from you is, please tell me you have the biggest badass attorneys that are hungry, starving, maybe are a little low to pay their Mercedes payments right now, and are just gearing up to come after the government and the media. Are they?"

I can confirm that that is the case," Page replied.

Watch the video clip below for a preview of the full-length interview:

The full interview will air on January 30th for Blaze TV subscribers, and February 1st on YouTube and wherever you get your podcast.

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On Wednesday's TV show, Glenn Beck sat down with radio show host, author, political commentator, and film critic, Michael Medved.

Michael had an interesting prediction for the 2020 election outcome: a brokered convention by the DNC will usher in former First Lady Michelle Obama to run against President Donald Trump.

Watch the video below to hear why he's making this surprising forecast:

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On Thursday's "Glenn Beck Radio Program," BlazeTV's White House correspondent Jon Miller described the current situation in Virginia after Gov. Ralph Northam (D) declared a state of emergency and banned people carrying guns at Capitol Square just days before a pro-Second-Amendment rally scheduled on Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

Jon told Glenn that Gov. Northam and the Virginia Legislature are "trying to deprive the people of their Second Amendment rights" but the citizens of Virginia are "rising up" to defend their constitutional rights.

"I do think this is the flashpoint," Jon said. "They [Virginia lawmakers] are saying, 'You cannot exercise your rights ... and instead of trying to de-escalate the situation, we are putting pressure. We're trying to escalate it and we're trying to enrage the citizenry even more'."

Glenn noted how Gov. Northam initially blamed the threat of violence from Antifa for his decision to ban weapons but quickly changed his narrative to blame "white supremacists" to vilify the people who are standing up for the Second Amendment and the Constitution.

"What he's doing is, he's making all all the law-abiding citizens of Virginia into white supremacists," Glenn said.

"Sadly, that's exactly right," Jon replied. "And I think he knows exactly what he's doing."

Watch the video to catch more of the conversation below:

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Ryan: Trump Louisiana Finale

Photo by Jim Dale

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

At the end of Trump rallies, I would throw on my Carhartt jacket, sneak out of the press area, then blend in with everyone as they left, filing out through swinging doors.

Often, someone held the door open for me. Just 30 minutes earlier, the same person had most likely had most likely hissed at me for being a journalist. And now they were Sunday smiles and "Oh, yes, thank you, sir" like some redneck concierge.

People flooded out of the arena with the stupidity of a fire drill mishap, desperate to survive.

The air smacked you as soon as you crossed the threshold, back into Louisiana. And the lawn was a wasteland of camping chairs and coolers and shopping bags and to-go containers and soda cans and articles of clothing and even a few tents.

In Monroe, in the dark, the Trump supporters bobbled over mounds of waste like elephants trying to tiptoe. And the trash was as neutral to them as concrete or grass. They plodded over it because it, an object, had somehow gotten in their way.

It did not matter that they were responsible for this wreckage.Out in the sharp-edged moonlight, rally-goers hooted and yapped and boogied and danced, and the bbq food truck was all smoke and paper plates.

They were even more pumped than they had been before the rally, like 6,000 eight year olds who'd been chugging Mountain Dew for hours. Which made Donald Trump the father, the trooper, God of the Underworld, Mr. Elite, Sheriff on high horse, the AR-15 sticker of the family.

Ritualistic mayhem, all at once. And, there in Louisiana, Trump's supporters had gotten a taste of it. They were all so happy. It bordered on rage.

Still, I could not imagine their view of America. Worse, after a day of strange hostilities, I did not care.

My highest priority, my job as a reporter, was to care. To understand them and the world that they inhabit. But I did not give a damn and I never wanted to come back.

Worst of all, I would be back. In less than a week.

Was this how dogs felt on the 4th of July? Hunched in a corner while everyone else gets drunk and launches wailing light into the sky? configurations of blue and red and white.

It was 10:00 p.m. and we'd been traveling since 11:00 a.m., and we still had 5 hours to go and all I wanted was a home, my home, any home, just not here, in the cold sweat of this nowhere. Grey-mangled sky. No evidence of planes or satellites or any proof of modern-day. Just century-old bridges that trains shuffled over one clack at a time.

And casinos, all spangles and neon like the 1960s in Las Vegas. Kitchy and dumb, too tacky for lighthearted gambling. And only in the nicer cities, like Shreveport, which is not nice at all.

And swamp. Black water that rarely shimmered. Inhabited by gadflies and leeches and not one single fish that was pretty.

Full of alligators, and other killing types. The storks gnawing on frogs, the vultures never hungry. The coyotes with nobody to stop them and so much land to themselves. The roaches in the wild, like tiny wildebeests.

Then, the occasional deer carcass on the side of the road, eyes splayed as if distracted, tongue out, relaxed but empty. The diseased willows like skeletons in hairnets. The owls that never quit staring. A million facets of wilderness that would outlive us all.

Because Nature has poise. It thrives and is original.

Because silence is impossible. Even in an anechoic chamber, perfectly soundproofed, you can hear your own heartbeat, steady as a drum. A never-ending war.

I put "Headache" by Grouper on repeat as we glided west. We were deadlocked to asphalt, rubber over tarface.

And I thought about lines from a Rita Dove poem titled "I have been a stranger in a strange land"

He was off cataloging the universe, probably,
pretending he could organize
what was clearly someone else's chaos.

Wasn't that exactly what I was doing? Looking for an impossible answer, examining every single accident, eager for meaning? telling myself, "If it happens and matters the next year, in America, I want to be there, or to know what it means. I owe it to whoever cares to listen."

Humans are collectors and I had gone overboard.

Because maybe this wasn't even my home. These landmarks, what did they mean? Was I obvious here? When I smiled, did I trick them into believing that I felt some vague sense of approval? Or did my expressions betray me?

Out in all that garbage-streaked emptiness — despite the occasional burst of passing halogen — I couldn't tell if everything we encountered was haunted or just old, derelict, broken, useless. One never-ending landfill.

Around those parts, they'd made everything into junk. Homes. Roads. Glass. Nature. Life itself, they made into junk.

I cringed as we passed yet another deer carcass mounded on the side of the road.

As written in Job 35:11,

Who teaches us more than the beasts of the earth and makes us wiser than the birds in the sky?

Nobody. Look at nature and you feel something powerful. Look at an animal, in all of its untamable majesty, and you capture a deep love, all swept up in the power of creation. But, here, all I saw were poor creatures who people had slammed into and kept driving. Driving to where? For what reason? What exactly was so important that they left a trail of dead animals behind them?

So I crossed myself dolorously and said an "Our Father" and recited a stanza from Charles Bukowski's "The Laughing Heart"

you can't beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.

Out here, nothing but darkness. Needing some light, by God. Give me something better than a Moon that hides like an underfed coward.

Jade told me about some of the more traumatic things she'd seen while working at the State Fair.

"Bro, they pull roaches out of the iced lemonade jugs and act like nothing happened."

"All right but what about the corn dogs?"

"You do not want to know, little bro."

She looked around in the quiet. "Back in the day, the Louisiana Congress refused to raise the drinking age from 18 to 21," she said. "They didn't want to lose all that drunk gambler money. So the federal government cut off funding to highways."

We glided through moon-pale landscape for an hour before I realized what she had meant. That there weren't any light poles or billboards along the road. Nothing to guide us or distract us. Just us, alone. And it felt like outer space had collapsed, swallowed us like jellybeans.

Like two teenagers playing a prank on the universe.

In the cozy Subaru Crosstrek, in the old wild night, brimming with the uncertainty of life and the nonchalance of failure, we paraded ourselves back to Dallas. Alive in the river silence that follows us everywhere.

New installments come Mondays and Thursdays. Next, the Iowa caucuses. Check out my Twitter. Email me at kryan@blazemedia.com