TRUMP ACTUALLY SAYS IF HE LOSES, BLAME THE JEWS - 9.20.24

you take him off the ballot, that's a cou Trump said. So, Trump's choice for governor of North Carolina went online and wrote he was a black Nazi who supported reinstating slavery, who loved transgender porn, who loved a porn site called Nude Africa, and who declared he was a per And then, according to CNN, there was the gross stuff. The only surprise to me about Mark Robinson is how did he not wind up is Trump's running mate. Okay, let me try to explain this. Years ago, I asked a therapist

friend of mine about this exact phenomenon. Because the country, the world, particularly the religious and political worlds, they are filled with Mark Robinson's. This guy went on to threaten transgender people he's anti Semitic, he's Old Testament kill people religious. And yet, like fifteen years ago, he was posting under an online user name quote, I like watching tranny on girl porn exclamation point un quote. So this is how

she explained it. Imagine that there's a child who believes they're supposed to feed a certain way, that they've been told there's one way that's normal and everything else is sick. That they've been told, if you're going to behave this way, you're going to heaven. If you don't, you're going to hell. And depending on how much you don't and how badly you don't, that's how long you're going to be in hell, or how much you're going to be burned in hell

or whatever. And then as you become an adult, you find out that you really enjoy all the things they told you are going to send you to hell, and in many cases you enjoy them in a sexual way. Sounds like Mark Robinson. Sounds like hundreds of thousands of people in this country, most of whom represent the Republican Party in Congress in any event, So what do these people do to function? Now? I forget what the technical term for this was in psychological circles. But I do

remember that. To explain it to a dumb layman like me, my friend the therapist said, think of this in terms of numbers. Each time this guy gives in to his desire to watch transgender porn, he scores against himself in his mind subconsciously a one, so that each time you're kind of paying for your sins literally one cent plus one cent plus one cent until you get to like thirty seven thousand dollars. Each time you talk about owning slaves, that's another one cent, another two say here we go,

and soon your debt, your evil. The amount of evil is quantifiable in your own mind. Whether or not you actually ever dream up an actual number is irrelevant. But in your mind, you've done this much evil, and you're gonna go to hell for this length of time, and you're gonna burn this much unless you come up with a different, bigger score on the other side of what

is literally in your mind a psychological equation. If you are thirty seven thousand points or dollars in day to transgender porn and the website Nude Africa, and if you're going to call yourself a black Nazi and you're thirty seven thousand down. The way to rationalize this is to go and do something that gives you a score of one hundred and thirty seven thousand against all these things

you have sinned. Your chance to not erase the sin and not even stop doing the sin, but just to overshadow, obscure completely, overshadow, completely, dwarf the idea that you participated in any of these things. Well, I can't be a perv. I can't really love transgender porn. I don't really reinstate slavery because I'm persecuting the other people who do. And look how many times I've done it. I have one hundred and thirty seven thousand points on the Persecute transgender

people scoreboard. It's as simple as that. That's why they all wind up doing this. There's no way for them to change the way they feel or the gratification they get, particularly if it's sexual, my friend explained to me. So they have to then try to punish other people who feel the same way. It is at first illogical, not natural,

and seemingly so much work for no good reason. And the more you think about it, the more it makes sense because the second part of This is, as my friend pointed out, that the Mark Robinson's of this world, when the scoreboard reads one hundred and thirty seven thousand against perversion and sin at only thirty seven thousand four perversion and sin, they can sit there and go, you know,

I have a little margin here to play with. I think I'm going to go do ten thousand more in sin, because running for office on a promise of punishing and killing the sinners is by itself one hundred thousand. I wonder how much somebody like Trump would know about bribing

union bosses. Now. I don't have any inside information about Sean O'Brien, and I'm certainly not suggesting that his national teamsters are sitting out the election and not endorsing Kamala Harris, even though they have endorsed every Democrat who's run for

resident since nineteen ninety six. I'm not saying that's the result of anything in particular, anything except a full and fair voter poll, or or whatever it is they said they did before they said they weren't going to do anything in this election, even though Sean O'Brien went and spoke at the Republican National Convention just because Harris has

since been endorsed by Teamsters regional councils in Michigan. That's a quarter million Teamsters right there, and California, Hawaii and Guam, and the Battleground in Nevada that's another group of Teamsters three hundred thousand, plus the local councils in Wisconsin and Philadelphia and Miami and Greater New York, and the Teamsters National Black Caucus. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with what the National Teamsters decided they had the votes for.

I'm not saying there was anything like bribing a union boss involved, just because there are a million, three hundred thousand Teamsters nationally and they voted no endorsement, per President O'Brien, and now it looks like a majority of them will be endorsing her via their regional councils. Anyway, that's no reason to assume there's helter skelter hanky panky run willy nilly in union Land. But I do wonder how much somebody like Trump would know about bribing a union boss,

given what he spent his life doing. Let me tell you another story. This one is from my late father. We have to go back in time a little put yourself in the mind of being it. Just before Christmas nineteen seventy eight, We're in Binghamton, New York. It's a little warm for the time of year, at a new

mall Cornell, my college has broken for the winter. And by total coincidence, my dad, an architect who worked largely in malls, is going to be in bingham to New York, an hour away from Cornell, on the day that my friends are leaving Ithaca to go home to their home in outside Philadelphia. And we can time this perfectly. Exactly where they have to hang a right which gets them to Philadelphia, when going straight takes you to New York is the mall my father's going to be at that

particular night. So I pile in the car with them, and I get out at the mall and there's my dad's car, and on a foggy night, fifty fifty five degrees, foggier and foggier, finally out my father comes and says he's got somebody with him, and he goes, this is my son. He's a senior at Cornell. We think he's a saying he's going to graduate in the spring. You are going to graduate Argie, the whole routine. Now, my

father had worked as an architect. He got his first license in nineteen sixty seven and wound up being licensed in forty of the states, which was pretty good for a guy who never actually went to college. But before that, he'd been a draftsman working for a firm in New

York for about fifteen years. He did the nitty gritty stuff, and when it came time to get stuff built, he had to go there and deal with the union bosses, and he had to go there and deal with the contractors and the owners, and the inspectors and the city people. He had to deal with people on a granular level, as they say. So my dad is talking to me about as we got up into the car and this foggy night, And it was foggy enough that at one point, as we drove away from this mall, I said, when

did they put that Christmas tree up? And he went, what Christmas tree? There was a giant Christmas tree in the parking lot, which we could not see even though we were standing ten feet from it. Now the fog is clearing it like it had just grown there. So this is a very weird night to begin with, plus, I'm almost an adult, not quite. I haven't turned twenty years old yet. Maybe I'm graduating, maybe I'm not. And I say something, and to this day, I don't remember

what it was to my dad about construction. And he almost swerves off the highway and says, look, I thought I raised you well. And I went, what's wrong? He goes, you've reached your age, you nearly twenty years old, and you don't understand that everything that gets built involves a bribe. And I said, well, I mean, I guess that's true, but I don't know that we've ever discussed. Oh, we discussed it before you came with me on that one job in Queens in nineteen sixty seven. I said, I

was eight years old. Dad goes on to explain that everything that is built, certainly everything that is built in New York, and everything that he has seen in his world travels, well, his national travels. He used to go around the country. He had a mall and Nacadochius, Texas that he had six different stores in. He was at one point the architect who had something like three hundred and fifty different Baskin Robbins's around the country. That he

had designed. He was expert and intuitive and at great demand for being able to put your standard boilerplate, official restaurant or store design into an irregular space. So a Baskin Robbins that needed to be I don't know, forty feet by forty feet, he could put it in a thirty six by forty seven foot square and you, mister Baskin Robbins, would never know the difference. That was what he excelled in. He didn't think it was pretty, that creative or anything. He just that was what he was

good at. So Dad is now explaining to me that no matter where you go, somebody is going to get bribed. And I'm, of course at nineteen like you bribed someone. He said, no, I don't do the bribes. I have seen a few of them. That guy I introduced you to, he got a bribe. But that's I know, because right before the bribe came in, the guy I'm working for asked me to leave, and I went and looked at some other stores in the mall and I said, on the way out, how long He said five minutes? And

I know what was done. Then this way we'll get it done on time. The man that you just were introduced to He told me just before I introduced him to you, just before you became visible in the fog, he said, We're taken care of. This will get open on time. Whatever it was February fifteenth, April first, everything that gets built union, non union, somebody has gotten a

little taste, as they say in the Godfather movies. So I don't know anything about how it is that after a tradition of nearly thirty years of always endorsing the Democrat, and the rather obvious truth that no matter how bad sometimes democrats, individual democrats or individual democratic presidents have been for unions, that they have always been better than Republicans have been for you, Unions at least the last sixty years worth of them have been. I don't know anything

beyond that. I'm just a simple country commentator. But my dad was a near witness to bribery of union officials in every state of the Union in which he had a license to practice architecture. That's forty of them, that's four fifths. And what was it Trump did before he went on TV and people went who is this ass? And he became a star, and then they became president. What was it he did before that? Did he build things?

Do I remember that? Really? Is that why his name is on all those buildings that were all built with either union or non union labor, in which everything had to be approved by a local government inspector and things to open on time, And Trump buildings always opened on time. I wonder how that happened. As I said, I I wonder how much somebody like Trump would know about bribing a union boss. Heading into the weekend, polls all over the map, as you know, except for a couple of

consistent through lines. The New York Times Siena poll that essentially shows the race tide before the debate, the Times poll, the same one was Trump by two. The Times poll has been an outlier all along, and the idea that the informator of the New York Times is anything special any longer has left the building except the building that

houses the New York Times, so there's nothing special. It's not likely to be that they're right and everybody else is wrong, because even the New York Times Siena poll, like almost every other poll for the last six weeks, shows one through line continued ongoing in incremental, sometimes really small improvement, for Kamala Harris. The other national polls that

came out yesterday are suggestive of potential blowouts. Outward Intelligence poll Harris by seven, Florida Atlantic University Harris by four, you Gov for The Economist Harris by four. There are two out of about twenty five national polls that do not show Kamala Harris ahead of Trump. One was Atlas Intel, which last week had Trump up by three. Nate Silver likes Atlas Intel. I don't know anymore about Nate Silver.

My opinion of him changes day to day. The other one was the New York Times poll, and even in that it has gone from Harris minus two to even the point of this through line is the possession arrow is pointing to Kamala Harris. The other through line, of course, in the total national vote doesn't matter, as you know, it's the swing states, and the other through line happens to be in oh a swing state Pennsylvania. The Times

poll has her up by four. If we are suggesting that the Time Siena poll has been running as an outlier against the Democrats for the whole of this year, four point lead in Pennsylvania for Kamala Harris is worth the weekend of Champagne. Quinnipiac we mentioned the other day, has her up by six In Pennsylvania. Marrist and the Washington Posts separately have her up by just one. On the other hand, other hand, other hand, there is one poll this month that has Trump up in Pennsylvania one.

What's happening? Well, The easiest explanation is the oldest one. Polling sucks. It's too easy. In point of fact, the polls are not as bad as they used to be. They're better than they were in twenty twenty, when they were far better than they were in twenty sixteen. But we keep ignoring one fundamental thing that the pollsters are so used to that they don't really make a big deal of anymore. The polls offer two flavors of results. Who is leading among registered voters and who is leading

among likely voters. Registered voters is defined. Are you registered to vote? Yes, I am, You're a registered voter. They don't ask people in this way are you a likely voter? They try to ascertain in their own opinion if this person is in fact likely to vote. The idea of the likely voter is the better number. It is more predictive, but it can be played like a two dollars banjo. That is where pollsters can be prejudiced towards one side

or the other. These people who say they're going to vote for Harris, we're going to declare them not likely voters. Or these people that say they're going to vote for Harris, we're going to declare them likely voters. Each polster has his own definition of likely voter, and the ones that are playing it straight. Did they vote in the last state election, did they vote in the last national election, do they know the candidates? Did they vote in both

the nationals and locals? Did they vote in mid terms? You get a score. You could have ten polsters though poll literally the same eleven hundred people in Pennsylvania or anywhere else, and based on the different definitions of likely voter, the same posters interviewing the same eleven hundred people could give you a final score of Harris leading by six,

Harris leading by four, or Harris leading by one. The key thing in Pennsylvania is the number of polsters who, no matter what they do to get this number, can put together. Trump ahead in Pennsylvania is nearly extinct. There's also one interior polling number worth mentioning I'll give Axios credit on this, while they were whining at the same time about Harris not giving them an interview, and they're on a record pace not to give any interviews before

the leg because they're trying to hire it. Okay, whatever, you're that important. They're running a campaign. They're not running to win over the vote of Jim Van Dehi, all right. So while they're complaining about that, Axios did conclude quoting their headline, Harris closes trust gap with Trump on the economy, Forty six percent of voters say they trust Kamala Harris to handle the economy, the same share as Trump, according to the Morning Consult poll, which was conducted in late

August and released Thursday Morning. They took their time on this pole. A separate survey Axios notes from FT Michigan Ross, taken after the debate and released last Sunday, shows Harris with a slight edge over Trump when it comes to the economy. I have noted this before that these numbers are basically all within a range. Trump by a point,

Harris by a point. Even That's it. And the important point there again goes back to the possession arrow and the momentum this was Trump by ten over Biden, and earlier than that it was even higher than that. And remember the dreams of knocking Ted Cruz out of the Senate. It may not last because the Democrats seem to have spent like ninety percent of their ad budget in Texas, while the Republicans have about that much left. But according to Morning Consults, Colin Hall red leeds Ted Cruz in

the Texas Senate race forty five forty four. The Saint Foster put out its first entirely post debate polls for the swing states. It's Trump by one in Georgia, but otherwise clean sweep. Harris, Harris by one in Arizona, Harris by two in North care Carolina and Pennsylvania. Harris by four in Nevada, Harris by six in Wisconsin, Harris by eight in Michigan. Again, trends, and I can't wait to

see those post Mark Robinson polls in North Carolina. I mean, first of all, they're going to read Morning Consult North Carolina poll for Ashleymadison dot com. Lastly, comic relief bottom line. Take this with you, Smile over the weekend as you

think about it. Trump is again hallucinating after he got up in an abandoned New York hockey arena the other night and announced he can win that state when he's losing it by twenty He went into Fox News on the show of the guy nearly as delusional as he is, the guy Gutfeld, who has shown up to that office every day for what ten fifteen years, has never made one joke that actually had a laugh in it, and thinks he is Mark Twain. Well, Trump got an even

bigger non laugh. He selected his wine for the night, the fact checking at the debate, and I suppose we should be happy that he was fact checking debates from twenty twenty four rather than twenty sixteen. Trump said on the Gutfeld Show, they didn't correct her once, and they corrected me everything I said, practically, I think nine times or eleven times, and the audience was absolutely they went crazy, and I walked off unquote. Trump thinks there was an

audience at his debate against Kamala Harris. Hece, you're forgetting there was no audience. On the other hand, if your ego is so large that it has to be continued onto the person standing next to you, ah maybe that

guy does count as your audience. Also of interest here the Late News comparatively speaking last night from an anti anti Semitism dinner at which Donald Trump, because the comparisons to Hitler are apparently insufficient in his mind, decided to warn the Jewish people of this country that they will be at fault if he is not elected president. He is moving ever closer to Hitler. That's next. This is countdown. I don't know when I first made a comparison between

Donald Trump and Adolf Hitler. I know I implied it in the article that I wrote for the BBC website in twenty and sixteen about the early versions of Trump's plan to remove millions of people here from this country, and the realization that was not widespread at that point that you could not simply expect immigrants or other people who Trump did not like, to simply line up and march out of the country without some kind of intermediary stage in which they would be kept in camps in concentration,

or as I put it, camps with concentration, or as their known concentration camps. Trump, as we know since nineteen ninety when it was revealed by his first wife that he kept a book of Hitler's speeches in a bedside table, and it was very important to him that when this was found out, it was confirmed that the book had been given to him by somebody who was Jewish, and that it was not mind comp it was a book of speeches, and if he did have it, he never

read it. Anti Semitism is at the core of who Donald Trump is, and in increasingly people have recognized that the historical comparison to Hitler nineteen twenty nine, thirty thirty one, thirty two and the Trump of today is apt. Everybody seems to think it's when made a comparison to Hitler at the lowest point in his non humanity. That's not what we're talking about. We're talking about what you would have seen if you had looked at Hitler in nineteen

thirty two. That is where we are with Trump, and if there was any doubt remaining of this, it ended last night. Trump has been through the course of this entire campaign saying that the Democrats are not serving Israel and that anyone who's Jewish in this country who would vote for a Democrat needs to and I'm quoting him here, get their head examined because long ago, sometime before he

first needed to have his head examined. Trump utterly conflated in a per anti Semitic meme, the idea that the Jews are loyal first to Israel, the Jews of America are first loyal to Israel, the Jews of Holland, or first loyal to the Jews of Australia. It is the most common form of anti Semitism, and those who are

afflicted with it don't think they are being particularly anti Semitic. Well, now there is a secondary stage up from that, and Trump reached it last night at a dinner at which he was given an award and introduced by this Adelson woman who is pouring millions of dollars into the attempt to get Trump elected again and again. Trump with this confusion between the idea that support for Jewish people and support for Israel must overlap entirely, now he has gone

to the next stage. Jewish support for Trump is not what it should be. And he openly and without any kind of reservation, and in a sad tone of voice, as if he was warning the Jews of America that he's going to have to do something about them if he wins and they have not supported him. He basically in advance blamed Jewish Americans for the possibility that he would not be returned to the presidency. I'm going to play the whole clip. I have no comment to make afterwards.

It speaks for itself, and the reverse of what he says is true. If any Jewish American votes for Donald Trump, they need to have their head examined. If any Gentile American votes for Donald Trump, they need to have their head examined too.

won't happen. But a lot of bad things happened, and some good things I've been right about too, And I only want to be So I'm not going to call this as a prediction. But in my opinion, the Jewish people would have a lot to do with a loss if I'm at forty percent, if I'm at forethink of it, I mean sixty percent of voting for Kamala, who in particular is a bad Democrat. The Democrats are bad to Israel,

very bad. They'll never change because they have a section of their party now which has become amazingly and quickly very powerful both ways. I mean, Chuck Schumer is a Palestinian who would have thought that was going to happen. What the hell happened to him? I saw him the other day. He was dressed in one of their robes. Now that'll be next.

was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full dress uniform with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. We can't make it, sir. It's spoiling for a hurricane. If you ask me, I'm not asking you, Lieutenant Berg, said the commander. Throw on the power lights, rever up to eighty five hundred. We're going through. The pounding of the cylinders increased to pocket, the pocket to pocket, to pocket to pocket. The commander

stared at the ice forming on the pilot window. He walked over and twisted a row of complicated dials. Sweitch on number eight auxiliary. He shouted, switch on number eight auxiliary, repeated Lieutenant Berg. Full strength and number three turret, shouted the commander, full strength and number three turret. The crew, bending to the various tasks in the huge, hurtling eight engined Navy hydroplane, looked at each other and grinned. The old man will get us through, they said to one another.

The old man ain't afraid of hell, not the fast. You're driving too fast, said missus Middy. What are you driving so fast for? Hmmm, said Walter Middy. He looked at his wife in the seat beside him with shocked astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd. Up to fifty five, she said, you know I don't like to go more

than forty. You're up to fifty five. Walter Midty drove on toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the s N two two through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying, fading in the remote intimate airways of his mind. You're ten step again, said missus Midty. It's one of your days. I wish you'd let doctor Renshaw look you over. Walter Mitty stopped the car in front of the building where his wife went to have her

hair done. Remember to get those overshoes while I'm having the hair done, she said, I don't need overshoes, said Mitty. She put her mirror back into her bag. We've been all through that, she said, getting out of the car. You're not a young man any longer. He raced the engine a little. Why don't you wear your gloves? Have you lost your gloves? Walter Mitty reached in a pocket and brought out the gloves. He put them on, but after she had turned and gone into the building, and

he had driven on to a red light. He took them off again. Pick it up, brother snapped the cop as the light changed, and Mitty hastily pulled on his gloves and lurched ahead. He drove around the streets aimlessly for a time, and then he drove past the hospital on his way to the parking lot. It's the millionaire banker Wellington, McMillan, said the pretty nurse. Yes, said Walter Mitty, removing his gloves slowly. Who has the case, Doctor Renshawn,

Doctor Renbow. But there are two specialists here, doctor Remington from New York and mister Prichard Mitford from London. He flew over. The door opened down a long cool carter, and doctor Renshaw came out. He looked distraught and haggard. Hello Mitty, he said, we're having the devil's own time with McMillan, the millionaire banker and close personal friend of Roosevelt obstriosis of the ductal tract tertiary. Wish you'd take

a look at him. Glad to, said Mitty. In the operating room, there were whispered introductions Doctor Remington, doctor Mitty, mister Richard Mitford, doctor Mitty, and I've read your book on scripto thracosis, said Richard Mitford, shaking hands. A brilliant performance, sir, thank you, said Walter Mitty. Didn't know you're in the State's Mitty grumbled. Remington Cole's to Newcastle, bringing Midford to me up here for a tertiary. You are very kind,

said Mitty. A huge, complicated machine connected to the operating table with many tubes and wires began at this moment to go pocket to pocketa POCKETA the new anesthetizer is giving way, shouted an interurn. There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it. Quiet man, said Mitty in a low, cool voice. He sprang to the machine, which was now going pocket to pocket to creep, pocket to pocket to creep. He began fingering delicately a roll of glistening dials. Give me a fountain pen, he snapped.

Someone handed him a fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston out of the machine and inserted the pen in its place. That will hold for ten minutes, he said, Get on with the operation. A nurse hurried over and whispered to Renshaw and Mitty saw the man turn pale. Coreopsis has set in, said Renshaw nervously. If you would take over, Middy. Mitty looked at him, and at the craven figure of Benbow who drank, and at the grave uncertain faces of the two great specialists. If you wish,

he said. They slipped a white gown on him. He adjusted a mask and drew on thin gloves. Nurses handed him shiny, back it up, Mac, look out for that buick. Walter Mitty jammed on the brakes. Wrong laye, Mac, said the parking lot attendant, looking at Mitty closely. Gee yeah, muttered Mitty. He began cautious to back out of the lane marked exit. Only leave us sit there, said the attendant. I'll put her away. Mitty got out of the car. Hey better leave the key, oh, said Mitty, handing the

man the ignition key. The attendant vaulted into the car, backed it up with insolent skill, and put it where it belonged. They're so damn cocky, thought Walter Mitty, walking along main Street. They think they know everything. Once he had tried to take his chains off outside New Milford, and he got them wound around the axles. The man had to come out in a wrecking car and unwind them a young, grinning garage man. Since then, Missus Mitty always made him drive to a garage to have the

chains taken off. The Next time, he thought, I'll wear my right arm in a sling. They won't grin at me. Then I have my right arm in a sling, and they'll see. I couldn't possibly take the chains off myself. He kicked at the slush on the sidewalk. Overshoes, he said to himself, and he began looking for a shoe store. When he came out into the street again with the overshoes in a box under his arm, Walter Mitty began to wonder what the other thing was his wife had

told him to get. She had told him twice before they set out from their house for Waterbury. In a way, he hated these weekly trips to town. He was always getting something wrong. Kleenex, he thoughts, quibbs, razor blades, now toothpaste, toothbrush by carbon at Carborundum initiative referendum, he gave it up, but she would remember it. Where's the what's its name? She would ask? Don't tell me you forgot the what's its name? The newsboy went by, shouting something about the

Waterbury trial. Perhaps this will refresh your memory. The district attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. Have you ever seen this before? Walter Mitty took the gun and examined expertly. This is my Webley Vicar's fifty point eight, oh, he said calmly. An excited buzz ran around the courtroom. The judge wrapped for order. You are a crack shot with any sort of firearms, I believe, said the district attorney, insinuatingly. Objection,

shouted Mitty's attorney. We have shown that the defendant could not have fired the shot. We have shown that he wore his right arm in a sling on the night of the fourteenth of July. Walter Mitty raised his hand briefly, and the bickering attorneys were stilled with any known make of gun, He said evenly, I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred feet with my left hand. Pandemonium

broke out in the courtroom. A woman's scream rose above the bedlom, and suddenly a lovely, dark haired girl was in Walter Mitty's arms. The district attorney struck at her savagely, without rising from his chair. Mitty let the man have it on the point of the chin, you miserable curl er. Puppy biscuit, said Walter Mitty. He stopped walking, and the buildings of Waterbury rose up out of the misty courtroom and surrounded him again. A woman who was passing laughed.

He said, puppy biscuit. She said to her companion. That man said puppy biscuit to himself. Walter Mitty hurried on. He went into an a and p not the first one he came to, but a smaller one farther up the street. I want some biscuit for small young dogs, he said to the clerk. Any special brand, Sir, the greatest pistol shot in the world. Thought a moment. It says, puppies bark for it on the box, said Walter Mitty. His wife would be through at the hairdressers in fifteen minutes.

Mitty saw in looking at his watch. Unless they had trouble drying it, sometimes they had trouble drying it. She didn't like to get to the hotel first, she would want him to be there for her as usual. He found a big leather chair in the lobby facing a window, and he put the overshoes and the puppy biscuit on the floor Beside it. He picked up an old copy of Liberty and sank down into the chair. Can Germany conquer the world through the air? Walter Mitty looked at

the pictures of bombing planes and of ruined streets. The Cannonaden has got the wind up in young Rawley, Sir, said the sergeant. Captain. Mitty looked at him through touzled hair. Get him to bed, he said, wearily. With the others, I'll fly alone, but you can't, sir, said the sergeant. Anxiously takes two men to handle that bomber, and the archies a pounding l out of the air. Von Rickman's circus is between here and Solier. Somebody's got to get

that ammunition dump, said Mitty. I'm going over spot of brandy. He poured a drink for the sergeant and won for himself. Wore thundered and wine around the dugout and battered at the door. There was a rending of wood and splinters flew through the room of a near thing, said Captain Mitty carelessly. The box barrage is closing in, said the sergeant. We only live once, sergeant, said Mitty, with his faint fleeting smile. Or do we He poured another brandy and

tossed it off. I've never seen a man could hold his brandy. Lock you, sir, said the sergeant, begging you pardon, sir. Captain Mitty stood up and scrapped on his huge Webbley Vicars automatic. It's forty kilometers through el, sir, said the sergeant. Mitty finished one last brandy after all, he said, softly. What isn't The pounding of the cannon increased. There was the rat tat tatting of the machine guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pucket a pucket to pucket a

pocket of the new flame thrilleries. Walter Mitty walked to the door of the dugout, humming out Prey de ma blon, and he turned and waved to the sergeant Cheerio. He said. Something struck his shoulder. I've been looking all over this hotel for you, said missus Mitty. Why do you have to hide in this old chair. How did you expect me to find you things close in? Said Walter Mitty, vaguely what missus Mitty said? Did you get the wats it's name the poppy biscuit? What's in that box? Overshoes?

Said Mitty? Couldn't you put them on on the star? I was thinking? Said Walter Mitty. Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes thinking? She looked at him. I'm going to take your temperature when I get you home, she said. They went out through the revolving doors that made a faintly derisive whistling sound when you push them. It was two blocks to the parking lot at the drug store on the corner. She said, wait here for me. I forgot something. I won't be a minute. She was

more than a minute. Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rained with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drug store smoking. He put his shoulders back and his heels together. To hell with the handkerchief, said Walter Middy scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the Firing Squad, erect and motionless, proud and disdainful.

Walter Mitty, the Undefeated, Inscrutable to the last. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty by James Thurber. I've done all the damage I can do here. Thank you for listening right now. Back to five episodes a week, posting nightly just after midnight Eastern, so that's Sunday night, just after midnight a Sunday night, early Monday morning. Once again there is a Monday Countdown. Please forward both this podcast and the news of the Monday Countdown to a non listener

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