Ray

🇨🇦Canadian Liberal. Life is too short to hate. Anglican/Episcopal Priest. Married since 1985 to a woman who makes me a better person everyday. Motorcycle ♥️

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@LucasSa56947288 A

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@Morgan_C_Ross The sweet-sweet taste of SOAP

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@atrupar That’s the exact money I changed the channel 🇨🇦

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@ThatCheerMomOfX @billifer1973 I agree☝️

[Gandalv @Microinteracti1]

Robert Mueller died last night.

He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving.

He had integrity.

And tonight the President of the United States said good!

I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good.

I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word.

Good.

This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather.

That is what is happening. That is what has happened.

The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming.

America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner.

And the church said nothing.

Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary.

Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him.

Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart.

JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn.

These men are something more painful than monsters.

They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again.

Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing.

Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less.

That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him.

And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it.

When Trump is gone, they will still be here.

Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous.

That morning is coming.

Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say.

He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true.

He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad.

The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it.

That is all it needed to be.

A man died. His family is broken open with grief.

That is all it needed to be.

Instead the President said good.

And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸

Gandalv / @Microinteracti1

[Grandpa Snarky @GrandpaSnarky]

AN OPEN LETTER TO GOVERNOR GAVIN NEWSOM

SUBJECT: WHEN THE PRESIDENT ACTS LIKE THE WORLD'S OLDEST SCHOOLYARD BULLY

Governor Newsom,

Let me begin with a sentence I never thought I would write about a sitting President.

The most powerful man on Earth stood on a stage and mocked someone for having dyslexia.

Yes. Dyslexia.

A learning disability that affects millions of Americans – millions of children sitting at kitchen tables right now, fighting through a page of words that refuse to cooperate.

That is what he chose to mock.

You said you struggled in school. You said you scored a 960 on your SATs. You said dyslexia made every page harder than it should have been – and that you worked through it anyway.

To most people, that story is called perseverance.
To Donald Trump, it was a target.

He didn't stop there. He twisted your admission of struggle into a racial accusation – a logical leap so contorted it would cause a pretzel to sprain something.
You didn't insult anyone. You didn't belittle anyone. You said you struggled and kept going.

That is called resilience.

Resilience is not something Donald Trump understands. Because Trump cannot feel tall unless he is standing on someone else’s neck.

He mocks veterans.

He mocks people with disabilities.

He mocks anyone who admits imperfection.
It is not politics. It is playground behavior with a podium.

I want to tell you something personal.

I have a young relative who is dyslexic.

Watching him learn to read has been one of the most humbling things I have witnessed. Every page is work. Every paragraph is effort. Every word costs him something that costs most people nothing.

And yet – something remarkable happens with kids who struggle like that.

They develop empathy. They notice other people's pain. They learn patience in ways the rest of us never have to.

In other words, they develop everything the current President of the United States seems incapable of.

Trump's attack on you was not an isolated moment.
It fits a pattern.

This is the same man whose war left more than 150 young girls dead.

Children.
Students.
Kids who woke up expecting a normal school day.

A Pentagon report confirmed what many already suspected: a U.S. bombing strike hit a girls' school in Iran.

That is the human cost of leadership that treats everything – diplomacy, war, disability, empathy – like props in a television show.

Cruelty in a rally.
Cruelty on a map.
The same instinct.
Only the scale changes.

Trump thinks cruelty is strength.

It is not.

Cruelty is easy. It requires no character, no discipline, no compassion. Anyone can mock someone else. It is the cheapest move in politics.

Real strength is admitting you struggled.

Real strength is saying you were not perfect and kept going anyway.

Real strength is empathy.

Which is exactly why he does not understand it.

Governor Newsom, I am sorry that a personal challenge from your childhood was dragged through the mud by a man who treats vulnerability as a character flaw.

When he mocked your struggle, he was not just insulting you.

He was insulting every kid who has ever stared at a page and had to fight for what the rest of the room gets for free.

Those families know what courage looks like.

It does not look like him.

If you run for President, you will have my vote.

You will have my help.

Because this country needs leaders who know the difference between strength and cruelty.

And Governor – you know the difference.

All the best,
Grandpa Snarky

…
Know a kid who struggles with dyslexia? Tell them this country sees them — even if the President doesn't.

Please report/share.
2026 midterms are right around the corner.

#Dyslexia #GovNewsom #GavinNewsom

And that's the way this grandpa and political satirist sees it.

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@MbarkCherguia Biscuit

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@kakarPathan_ I’m terrible at PoP Quizzes

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@TrumpsHurricane I’ve fallen and I can’t get up

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@otokyo AnaA here we go again

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@BestinDogs SunChip

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@oriettamusic @goodell2017 Modern Love

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@gggirl924 It was canned peas for me 😋Frozen peas even fresh peas tasted weird to me. In fact I still find I’m not fond of most frozen vegetables.

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@sitiwayyy I’m not sure what it’s called but pass me a fork and I’ll eat what’s left behind There’s no scraps on that board!

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@TrumpsHurricane Pass the H.P. Sauce please

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@MysterySolvents L'Oreal 901

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@sizzle_sarah Parkour

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@JoelVinette @MarkJCarney ❤️

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@alexxistexxxas DO NOT put your transmission in neutral when driving because to maneuver your vehicle you need to be in gear, downshift as appropriate to your speed Moreover, when you engage the clutch you’re essentially in neutral. Maneuverability is imperative to insure safety

[Ray @revraysmithis]

@TheBlueGem3 mine2🇨🇦