Month: July 2019

Elizabeth Warren

Warren hit all the right notes with her tone, demeanor, language choices and especially her policy-specific answers. She struck the right balance between progressive and pragmatic while pounding away at corporations, the rigged system, greed by insurance and pharmaceutical companies and more.

I first realized Warren was owning the debate stage at the onset of the event — actually, during a mistake she made. She decided to begin an anecdote about Ady Barkan, a man with ALS who was being failed by a broken health care system. Unfortunately, Warren ran out of time to tell the whole story. But, on her next speaking turn, she continued the anecdote to some mild chuckles from the audience. What she did next was perfect. She looked at the audience and said, “This isn’t funny. This is somebody who has health insurance and is dying.”

She lectured the audience and didn’t give a damn what they thought. And she continued dominating throughout the evening.

To Delaney: “I don’t understand why anybody goes to all the trouble of running for president of the United States just to talk about what we really can’t do and shouldn’t fight for.”

To the voters: “We can’t choose a candidate we don’t believe in just because we’re too scared to do anything else… Democrats win when we figure out what is right and we get out there and fight for it. I am not afraid. And for Democrats to win, you can’t be afraid, either.”

To everyone: “We need to call out white supremacy for what it is: Domestic terrorism.”

Importantly, Warren’s policy answers also were the best on stage, with her explanations of why we must change the immigration laws (because we shouldn’t ignore laws) and how a no first-use policy on nuclear weapons will make a safer world. My own debate teams have won countless rounds on this very argument.

B+

Bernie Sanders

Sanders was clever to use the word “radical” when reminding us his health care plan isn’t as crazy as many make it out to be. It’s in fact used successfully by other countries, including Canada. Sanders’ rhetoric was also compelling when he reminded everyone that Republicans aren’t afraid of big ideas, so Democrats shouldn’t be either.

And while he took some hits on removing Americans’ choices from health insurance and the potential effects of providing undocumented immigrants with free health care and education, Sanders’ defense was generally successful.

B

Pete Buttigieg

Buttigieg’s idea that military action needs three-year sunset clauses, forcing Congress to regularly reevaluate our involvement oversees was brilliant — especially coming from a veteran. And he’s getting good at calling out hypocrites in the Republican party who stand for party over country when supporting Trump. His advice that Democrats should not worry about being called socialists was spot-on.

Unfortunately, Buttigieg failed to distinguish his ideas from Warren’s or Sanders’ on issues such as debt-free college. And he lacked the fire of some of the other candidates.

Beto O’Rourke

O’Rourke gets “most improved” from his previous debate. Most of his answers were clear and concise. But when asked how to beat Trump, O’Rourke offered nothing more than what we saw from him in his battle for the Texas Senate — a battle in which he was defeated. Democratic voters must be shaking their heads in disbelief that O’Rourke thinks the same strategy that lost to Ted Cruz can somehow beat Trump.

C+

Amy Klobuchar

Klobuchar wasn’t as specific, memorable, or personable in this debate. And it began with an opening statement that was all over the place. While she occasionally had good points, like calling out Trump’s criticism of Baltimore, she was often missing in the debate (perhaps due to the moderators not calling on her enough).

C

Steve Bullock

Bullock’s strength was moderation. He successfully criticized “wish-list economics” and was believable when he talked about workers and farmers losing money when Trump tweets about trade. Unfortunately, he failed to defend a clear position on nuclear weapons, with a muddled and confusing answer in which he said, “Never, I hope, certainly in my term or anyone else, would we really even get close to pulling that trigger.”

C-

Tim Ryan

Ryan was partially successful in his pragmatic approach to answering questions. But some lines seemed forced, as when he said to Bernie Sanders, “You don’t have to yell.” Heck, Sanders was actually pretty calm (for Bernie) at the time. Plus, Ryan’s Ted Talk-esque conclusion about not capturing the left or center lane but instead capturing the viewers’ imaginations was so contrived it made me laugh out loud.

D+

John Delaney

With a better stage presence than he had in the previous debate, Delaney improved. And he made some sound points about finding realistic climate policies. He was actually holding his own on that issue until attention turned to Elizabeth Warren. Unfortunately, Delaney was outdone by Warren’s on-point and number-specific climate response. Nice try for Delaney, but he was upstaged in the end.

D

John Hickenlooper

He didn’t stick to his strongest arguments like he did in the previous debate when he constantly pointed to examples of his successful governorship. Hickenlooper was unfocused in many of his answers, from saying “there is a way of looking at trade that is therapeutic,” to mumbling something about “big, you know, noisy hangars” when discussing American military foreign policy. Plus, his lack of energy was noticeable compared to others on stage.

D-

Marianne Williamson

The problem with Williamson in this debate is that for every legitimate criticism of our government she gave — and there were several — she lacked follow-up solutions. She derided the “political insider game and wonkiness and intellectual argument,” without offering a clear picture of her practical alternative. And her closing statement was something about emotional and psychological gobbledygook that finished with a crescendo like she was singing the big finale of a Broadway musical.

Whatever happened to “Yes We Can?” Three centrist Democratic candidates — John Delaney, John Hickenlooper and Steve Bullock — launched a full-out attack on Senators Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren for promoting sweeping measures like Medicare for All and decriminalizing undocumented border crossings.

“You are playing into Donald Trump’s hands,” Bullock said to Warren on the issue of decriminalizing illegal entry at the borders. “A sane immigration system needs a sane leader.”

On Medicare for all, Delaney called for “real solutions, not impossible promises,” and groused: “I’m starting to think this isn’t a heath care strategy; this is an anti-private sector strategy.” Later on, he directly challenged Warren’s health care plan by saying “That’s not a big idea. That’s an idea that’s dead on arrival.”

Hickenlooper explicitly called for “an evolution, not a revolution” on health care.

The naysayers all sounded reasonable and practical. But Democratic primary voters, like other Americans, cherish extraordinary dreams, deep optimism and wild hopes for the future. That is why Sanders and Warren are consistently polling near the front of the pack of 20 Democratic candidates.

“I get a little tired of Democrats afraid of big ideas,” Sanders said. “Please don’t tell me we can’t take on the fossil fuel industry.”

And Warren drew applause by responding to Delaney’s attack with a touch of exasperation: “I don’t understand why anybody goes to all the trouble of running for president of the United States just to talk about what we really can’t do and shouldn’t fight for.”

The back-and-forth reminded me of the electrifying moment in 2008 when candidate Barack Obama — who’d been accused of offering flowery speeches and dreams rather than practical policies — used his victory speech after the South Carolina primary to push back.

“Don’t tell me we can’t change. Yes, we can,” Obama said. “Yes, we can heal this nation. Yes, we can seize our future….where we are met with cynicism and doubt and fear and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of the American people in three simple words — yes, we can.”

It was a lofty, optimistic message that ended up carrying Obama to the White House. Sanders and Warren are betting they can do the same.

Errol Louis is the host of “Inside City Hall,” a nightly political show on NY1, a New York all-news channel.

Sen. Bernie Sanders claimed that Amazon pays not “one nickel” in federal income taxes. 

“Companies like Amazon that made billions in profits did not pay one nickel in federal income tax.” 

Facts First: Sanders is correct — for the previous two tax years, Amazon’s own financial filings showed that it expected to receive money back from the federal government, not that it owed money. 

According to an analysis by the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy for the second year running, Amazon made a profit of more than $11 billion in 2018, but reported a $129 million tax rebate from the federal government.

Amazon does pay state taxes, and has also paid federal taxes in the past. The Wall Street Journal reported recently that Amazon’s overall tax rate from 2012 through 2018 was 8%.“From 2012 through 2018, Amazon reported $25.4 billion in pretax US income and current federal tax provisions totaling $1.9 billion,” the Journal reported. “That is an 8% tax rate — low, but not zero or negative. Looking back further, since 2002, Amazon has earned $27.7 billion in global pretax profits and paid $3.6 billion in global cash income taxes, a 13% tax rate.” 

Amazon’s SEC filings in 2017 show it did not expect to owe any federal tax, and in fact expected to get a $137 million refund from the federal government. It did, however, say it expected to pay $211 million to states. 

Michael Bennet is the senior US Senator for Colorado.

Like those Americans fortunate enough to go to college, the student debt problem is personal for me. I wasn’t in a position to foot the bill up front. College visits were beyond my family’s financial means, so I showed up to classes without having ever visited campus.

I worked my way through every semester clearing tables, filling pop machines and doing whatever else I could to help ease the burden. In law school, I showed up with a credit card and borrowed my way to a degree. When I graduated, I had over $100,000 in loans — more than $175,000 in today’s dollars.

I will never forget the day my wife, Lisa, and I finally paid off our student debt.

On each one of the 119 trips I took outside the wire — be it driving or guarding a vehicle — I learned what it meant to trust someone else with my life, and vice versa. The men and women who got in my vehicle didn’t care whether I was a Democrat or a Republican, or whether my father did or didn’t have papers when he immigrated here. They cared about whether my M4 was locked and loaded, and whether I had selected the route with the fewest improvised explosive device threats. They just wanted to get home safe, like I did.

It was a life-changing sense of trust in others — and one I wish more Americans had. But I don’t believe you should have to go to war in order to build that kind of trust and understanding, which is why I’m determined to knit together our social fabric through a new call to service.

Pete Buttigieg is the mayor of South Bend, Indiana.

“Look around,” the school official said in a stern voice, almost daring the assembled crowd of incoming sixth-grade students and parents. It was the summer of 1986, and I was sitting in a hot auditorium with my mother and my brother, Joaquin, nervously waiting to start the new school year. “Statistically, the chances are that up to half of you won’t be here when it’s time to graduate from the eighth grade.” Those were infamous last words.

Mom announced the next morning that we would attend another school, a foreign-language magnet program two miles away. My mom, a Chicana activist and hell-raiser, had higher aspirations for us.

Later I reflected on how profound this lesson was; low expectations were a tragic reality in the segregated schools on the west side of San Antonio where Joaquin and I grew up. At our new school, the teachers were supportive, mom encouraged us, and we excelled. But I kept thinking about our friends who stayed behind. I remembered that statistic that eventually proved true for too many of our former classmates.

Julián Castro is the former secretary of housing and urban development under President Obama and mayor of San Antonio, Texas.

Back in the 1990s, New York City was a great deal more divided than it is now. We knew our multi-racial family would bring stares and insults in some places. So, we invested in our own oasis in Brooklyn, where we could feel at home and be comfortable raising our children.

Like most other parents, we wanted our kids to grow up in an atmosphere of respect and acceptance. We also wanted them to realize their potential from an early age. The best way for them to do that and have the same opportunities as kids from wealthier families who could afford early education classes was to enroll in a quality public pre-K program. At the time, admission to these programs was decided through a lottery, and only a few families got it, so we prayed and prayed — and we lucked out. Access to quality pre-K made a huge difference for our kids, and ultimately changed the lives of our family.

Bill de Blasio is the mayor of New York City.

A sense of compassion and shared humanity created opportunity for him, and he made the best of it by working in a pencil factory his whole life. His daughter, my mom, married my dad — a union electrician who had served in the Army between Korea and Vietnam. We grew up a blue-collar family in a blue-collar neighborhood. Our family had health care because of my dad’s union, and a scholarship from the International Brotherhood of Election Workers helped me go to college — something my grandparents and parents never had the opportunity to do. It allowed me to become an entrepreneur, a CEO and then a member of Congress.

I’ve thought about my grandfather’s story a lot in the last few weeks, because we have a White House that isn’t showing compassion or shared humanity — particularly on the issue of immigration.

John Delaney is the former US representative for Maryland’s 6th district and an entrepreneur.

In Colorado, we passed the kind of gun-safety laws that other progressive politicians merely talk about. My sixth-grade son showed me the way. Shortly after he asked me about the difficulties of my job, he said, “Dad, just get the facts and make a decision, check, next.”

It turns out he was right.

Thanks to the nudge, I asked the Colorado Office of Public Safety to give me some numbers showing the effect of the limited background checks under Colorado law at the time. Among our state’s population of about 5.5 million, those checks stopped over 3,000 people who had been arrested or convicted of serious crimes from buying guns in 2012, including 38 people for homicide, 133 people for sexual assault, 618 burglars, and 1,380 people for felony assault.

John Hickenlooper is the former governor of Colorado.

In early July, my wife, Amy, and I rode the ferry from the bottom of Manhattan to Ellis Island. We visited the Great Hall, where waves of huddled masses, recently disembarked from long, transatlantic voyages, finally began to breathe a little more freely. On The American Immigrant Wall of Honor, we found the name of James Francis O’Rourke, who very well could have been one of my ancestors. And looking out at the Statue of Liberty, we were reminded that America always has been, and always will be, a nation of immigrants.

One reason we were so moved by our visit is because, in many ways, my hometown of El Paso is the Ellis Island of today. We are the largest binational community in the Western Hemisphere, the place where millions of people who become Americans first set foot in our country. A quarter of our neighbors were born in another country. Every day, we are made stronger — and yes, safer — by the immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers who make us so proud to call El Paso our home.

Beto O’Rourke is a former US Representative from Texas.

A few years ago, I received a call from my cousin Donnie, a proud Ohioan, Vietnam veteran and seasoned steelworker. Throughout his life, Donnie bounced between jobs in steel mills across our state, earning a living wage. Donnie told me on the phone that it was his last day at Delphi Automotive, a General Motors supplier, and that his job and the entire company were getting outsourced to cut costs. Donnie spent his last few hours on the job unbolting his machine from the floor, boxing it up and shipping it to China.

Unfortunately, Donnie’s story is one that hits home to a lot of folks who grew up, like I did, in the Rust Belt. It’s been almost 40 years since the economic decline hit the Midwest and Northeast. One after another, factories closed their doors due to inflation, import of foreign steel and cheap foreign labor costs.

Tim Ryan is the US Representative for Ohio’s 13th congressional district.

I was born and raised in a three-and-a-half-room apartment in Brooklyn. My father was a paint salesman who worked hard his entire life, but never made much money. This was not a life of desperate poverty — but coming from a lower middle-class family, I will never forget how money, or really lack of money, was always a point of stress in our home.

My mother’s dream was that someday our family would move out of that apartment to a home of our own. She died young, and her dream was never fulfilled. But during her life, at least our family was always able to afford a roof over our heads, because we were living in a rent-controlled building. That most minimal form of economic security was crucial for our family.

Bernie Sanders is a US Senator from Vermont.

Like a lot of Americans, my story isn’t exactly a straight line. I dropped out of college at 19 after the first boy I ever loved asked me to marry him, and I got a job answering phones. Even though I thought my dream of teaching was over, I had a good job and a good life.

Then, I heard about the University of Houston. It was a public four-year college just 40 minutes away and tuition was just $50 a semester — something I could afford on a part-time waitressing salary. I got my degree and went on to become a teacher for students with speech and learning disabilities. I got to live my dream.

My daddy ended up as a janitor, but I got to become a teacher, a law school professor, a United States senator and now a candidate for president because higher education opened a million doors for me. But the chances I got don’t exist anymore.

Elizabeth Warren is the senior US senator from Massachusetts.

In the late 1990s, I lived in Grosse Pointe, an affluent suburb of Detroit, Michigan, while raising my daughter. During that time, there were people in inner-city Detroit who would rent apartments in Grosse Pointe, several families at a time, to enable their children to attend Grosse Pointe South High School, a top-notch public school.

Local governments determine the enrollment policies of children in their school. Grosse Pointe’s was that your house, rented or owned, had to be your primary residence. If a child was enrolled in a school where the family was renting a second property, living with a relative, or with a parent who did not have primary custody, the district could eject them from school, extract fees from their families and potentially prosecute them for making false statements about residency.

Marianne Williamson is a bestselling author, activist and spiritual lecturer.

So, in 2011, I started Venture for America, a nonprofit that placed recent graduates in cities such as Birmingham, New Orleans, Cleveland, and Detroit — giving them the chance to support local businesses and create jobs in these areas. I wanted to create a path for smart young people to go out and build things, not toil away on corporate mergers that just shifted money from one millionaire’s account to another.

We picked these towns because they were struggling by most obvious measurements. They had lost manufacturing jobs to automation and were facing high levels of economic insecurity, unemployment and drug overdoses. However, looking at these numbers on a spreadsheet was very different from stepping off of a plane and seeing these struggling communities in person. I thought, “I can’t believe I’m still in the same country.”

Andrew Yang is an entrepreneur and a former ambassador for global entrepreneurship under the Obama administration.

“We are so sick of politicians traipsing in and out of here for their political campaigns thinking that they’re going to highlight our community — as if that’s going to do anything — and then traipsing right out of here,” said the Rev. Monica Villarreal, the pastor at Salem Lutheran Church who still only uses bottled water to perform baptisms. “It is not about partisan politics — it is about who is going to come get the job done.”

Some welcome the return to the public eye. But many people in Flint told CNN they are doubtful that politicians will solve their problems.

But even if every contaminated water line is replaced, which officials say should be complete this year, rebuilding the trust that was fractured could be Flint’s biggest challenge.

And it’s unclear how — or if — that trust can ever be repaired.

‘It’s just made my life a mess’

It’s a steamy Thursday in late July and by 9 a.m., the shoulder of Flint’s Dort Highway and a nearby side street are already lined with cars parked bumper to bumper.

Many drivers and their passengers look tired, and understandably so. They are waiting in line for donated bottled water, which is distributed by a local church.

Some, like Alander Baldwin, whose red Chevrolet truck was near the front of the line, have been here since 5:30 a.m.

“I could be fishing or cutting my grass or doing something worthwhile, but I gotta come out here and get water and food,” said Baldwin, who’s lived in Flint since 1955. “It’s just made my life a mess.”

Others, like General Motors retiree Kenneth Hairston who pushed a shopping cart to transport his water, prefers to skip the line by walking, even though the journey from his house and back is four miles.

It’s a scene you might expect to see after a natural disaster.

But it plays out every Thursday at Flint’s Greater Holy Temple Church of God in Christ, just a mile and a half from the city’s water treatment plant, where the water problems first began in 2014.

Hairston and Baldwin say they need the water because they do not trust that what comes out of their taps is safe to drink. It’s a sentiment shared by many we spoke with in Flint, who say their lives are still consumed by the contamination of the city’s water supply.

Lloyd Mayes, a Flint native who works in corrections, raised his family here but is glad that his grown children have moved, even though it means he rarely gets to see his grandchildren.

“I’m kinda torn,” Mayes said. “We want to see our grandchildren every day to come over and spend the night, but we have to deal with this water situation. We have to use bottled water for them just to take a bath.”

Authorities say Flint’s water is safe. But residents are still skeptical

Both the federal Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the state of Michigan have declared that Flint’s water is safe to drink, but many of the city’s residents are skeptical.

Flint Mayor Karen Weaver says she is not ready to make any declarations about the state of the water until every line in the city is inspected and additional testing is completed.

“I’m not telling people to drink the water yet,” Weaver said. “Until we know we’ve gotten every lead and galvanized pipe out of the city of Flint, I want to err on the side of putting health over everything.

The city is replacing thousands of corroded pipes, which Weaver says she expects to be done this fall. But there’s another outstanding issue — potentially damaged plumbing and appliances inside residents’ homes that have not been replaced.

Weaver says that even if all of the city’s water lines are replaced, homes themselves could still harbor lead issues.

“We can have the best water in the world and new pipes, but if your in-home plumbing has been damaged, then we have an issue,” Weaver said.

It’s a fix she doesn’t think the city should have to pay for.

“I don’t care which of them takes care of it — the state or the federal government — but somebody needs to. And it shouldn’t be on the backs of the people that didn’t create this problem,” she said.

In an emailed response to questions about the safety of Flint’s water, EPA spokesman Michael Abboud said, “The contaminant levels in Flint, Michigan’s drinking water are currently meeting all federal regulations.”

And on the issue of concerns over lingering contaminants in residents’ homes, Abboud points out that the EPA awarded a $100 million grant to upgrade Flint’s water infrastructure, money that the city is currently using to replace damaged water lines.

“The approaches that reduce lead exposure from the lines throughout the city — such as optimizing corrosion control — also work to manage lead levels inside homes,” Abboud said.

A spotlight on a city that feels forgotten

Many Flint residents say they are sick of not feeling safe drinking the city’s water.

But they are also tired of being let down by those charged with serving them.

Their visits are shining a light on a crisis that has faded from the national spotlight.

“It’s literally a life or death issue, as we’ve learned from what’s come out here,” O’Rourke told CNN after his town hall event in downtown Flint.

Most residents CNN interviewed welcome the attention the candidates have brought along with them. But some say they want action and that the temporary spotlight just isn’t enough.

If there is any good that has come out of the city’s water ordeal, it’s that the community is paying attention.

“I definitely see greater civic engagement, but I also see a greater sense of political skepticism,” Rev. Villarreal said.

Catrina Tillman, first lady at First Trinity Missionary Baptist Church, also sees a bright side.

In the vacuum of trust that exists here, people have learned who they can and cannot rely on.

“One positive thing that this water crisis has done is Flint has now gone back to neighbor taking care of neighbor,” Tillman said. “No longer are we waiting on local officials, state government, federal officials to take care of Flint. It’s Flint taking care of Flint.”

O’Rourke roared into the campaign with a massive first quarter fundraising haul and the affection of Democrats around the country following his energetic and innovative, albeit unsuccessful, Senate campaign.

How to accomplish that without risking his generally affable, optimistic brand will be a challenge — and remains a mystery. He is ideologically to the left of the other low-polling candidates onstage, but to the right of Sanders and Warren, most notably on health care.

O’Rourke could choose to zero in on Buttigieg, with whom he’s sparred a bit over the last few weeks. But his most intense recent rhetoric has focused on President Donald Trump. With Trump’s continued racist attacks on members of Congress, the Texan could try to direct his sharpest barbs at the White House — something no Democrat will hold against him.

3. The progressive platform on trial

Medicare for All, the Green New Deal, free college, student debt forgiveness, stricter financial regulation, new taxes on the wealthiest Americans, trade and US policy in the Middle East — it will all come under intense scrutiny Tuesday night.

The issues that Sanders mainstreamed during his 2016 presidential run and Warren has spent years advocating for have galvanized the base but also created clear dividing lines within the party.

Tuesday night, with Sanders and Warren (literally) center stage, could turn into a referendum on the direction Democrats take going into their general election showdown with Trump.

The arguments are familiar by now. Moderates like Ohio Rep. Tim Ryan, Klobuchar, Hickenlooper and Delaney are warning that a turn left would allow Trump and the Republicans to label Democrats as socialists. Progressives like Warren and Sanders argue that embracing the grassroots and turning out new voters is the way to win. And Buttigieg and O’Rourke, whose views on the question seem to cut down the middle, are pushing for a more cautious move to the left.

The fireworks, then, could come when the moderate faction begins to throw darts at Sanders and Warren, trying to poke holes in their agenda and convince Democrats that their path is doomed. Those broadsides will be met with equal and opposite force — embracing the fight is as core to the progressives’ brand as the policies themselves.

It’s a debate-within-the-debate both Warren and Sanders will be glad to take on. Given the state of the horse race, there will also likely be jockeying among the moderates to land the harshest, or most memorable, blow. Their risk: drowning each other out. Their opportunity: emerge as a moderate alternative to former Vice President Joe Biden.

4. The man who won’t be there

His Republican allies have plans that include “street theater” — the placement of Trump supporters around the debate site to create protests and “spectacles” — several local events organized by the RNC and a media blitz across TV and radio.

From the earliest days of his first campaign, Trump’s free-wheeling style has often scuttled even the best-laid plans of his aides. Campaign officials have long said they take their cues from the President, and his decisions about how to respond to Democrats — and what to respond to — will shape his team’s handling of the second set of primary debates this week.

Syncing messaging?

Campaign and GOP officials have long learned getting too far ahead of the President in messaging can cause problems. Earlier this month, for example, the campaign held a conference call with surrogates directing them to downplay the chants of “send her back” that broke out at Trump’s most recent rally — just hours before Trump himself disavowed the chants altogether. One person familiar with the episode called it “a reminder to everyone and anyone: wait and follow the President’s lead.”

Trump’s allies say they are looking for “moments,” like the episode in one of the first Democratic debates when all 10 candidates onstage raised their hands in support of free health care for undocumented migrants, to amplify and promote. A major focus is highlighting comments or positions from candidates that can be portrayed as far left — fitting neatly into the Trump campaign’s strategy of projecting some of the most extreme positions from some candidates onto all of the Democratic primary field.

As the stars of the debate, Democrats will drive the conversation this week both before and after the events. RNC officials say they plan to base some of their approach to the second debate off of the exchanges that gain traction from the first.

Sure to be mentioned in this week’s debates: Trump’s weekend attacks on Democratic Rep. Elijah Cummings and his Baltimore district in which he claimed that “no human being” would want to live in Cummings’ “disgusting, rat and rodent infested” district.

Democrats have accused Trump of exploiting racial divides as a political strategy aimed at shoring up his base. CNN reported earlier this month that the President viewed his tirades against the four Democratic House freshmen known as the “Squad” as a political success because they forced the larger Democratic Party to embrace those members, who have staked out far-left positions on some issues.

Trump’s political team warned him last week that former Vice President Joe Biden and Sen. Kamala Harris could both pose different kinds of challenges to his reelection prospects were they to win the nomination. Although Trump has relished going after Biden — whom he has branded “Sleepy Joe” and attacked for his age, despite being just three years younger — he has largely shied away from savaging Harris, the only black woman in the primary.

Trump’s plans

That sentiment lasted all of a couple hours before Trump weighed in on the sparring: “BORING!” he wrote from the sky.

The idea that Trump would skip viewing the debate and responding in real time was never plausible even to most of Trump’s aides, who fully anticipated watching the event aboard Air Force One.

The same was true of the second night, which occurred as Trump was meeting with foreign leaders in Japan. Trump recalled catching a few minutes of the debate on a television inside the G20 summit hall, but later told German chancellor Angela Merkel — rather implausibly — he’d rather spend time with her than watch any more.

This time, however, Trump will be in the White House for both nights of the debate — and therefore be in a better position to offer more real-time thoughts about the Democratic clashes. His trip to Williamsburg is to mark the 400th anniversary of the first legislative assembly in Jamestown. The senior White House official said Trump will also try to watch as much of the debates as he can to get a sense of what his competition looks like and how he should frame his counterpunches, if need be.

Campaign plans

President Trump, speaking from the White House, thanked the law enforcement officers who responded to the deadly garlic festival shooting.

“We thank the brave members of law enforcement. They never let us down, who swiftly killed the shooter,” he said.

Trump called the perpetrator “a wicked murderer” who “opened fire and killed 3 innocent citizens including a young child.”

He offered prayers to the victims.

He continued: “We will continue to work together as communities and as citizens to stop evil, prevent violence and protect the safety of all Americans.”