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This Liberal Comedian Is Trying to Unite the Country in Her New Show

November 13, 2017
Staff

WRITER

Comedian Sarah Silverman hasn’t held back when it comes to her dislike for President Donald Trump. But with her new show on Hulu, “I Love You, America,” Silverman hopes to reach out to Americans who voted for Trump as well as the rest of the country.

“When we’re divided, we’re easily controlled,” she said on the show. “So the challenge for us is to resist divisiveness and try to see ourselves in each other just as best we can.”

On today’s show, Glenn commended Silverman’s goal of trying to bring people together instead of further dividing them. But he added a caveat: You can only build bridges with the opposite team after you’ve held your own side accountable.

“I agree with her; however, it doesn’t work if you’re only going to single out the other side,” Glenn said. “You have to single out your side.”

This article provided courtesy of TheBlaze.

GLENN: So comedian Sarah Silverman, who is an outspoken opponent of I think everything, at least everything that is conservative, says that she -- she considered stockpiling food and weapons last November because of Donald Trump.

Now, listen to this.

SARAH: When it was finally official and Trump had won, I felt something I had never felt before, which was this overwhelming survival-based fear. You know, I had the sudden urge to buy a gun and stockpile water and weapons and canned guns. And in an instant, I became like a liberal doomsday prepper. And for the first time, I felt an actual kinship to the far right militia person who, you know, thought Obama would end the world. But I realized, it's that. It's that feeling of fear that makes us the same. You know, we are, all of us, both paralyzed and motivated by fear. We fear the unknown.

And that's why Trump's campaign was so effective. He took our fears and our rage, and he gave us a place to put it all. And that place was each other.

And when we're divided, we're easily controlled, right? So the challenge for all of us is to resist divisiveness and try to see ourselves in each other, just as best we can.

GLENN: Okay. So I think this is a really good thing. It's a good first step. But will she go as far and say, "And so I've reflected on what perhaps we have done on our side?"

And, you know, placing the fear of that's just the way white people will do you. Did she reflect on that?

Because I agree with her. However, it doesn't work if you're only going to single out the other side. You have to single out your side.

STU: Yeah. Because, I mean, you've said things similar to what she's saying there.

GLENN: Yes. I've said -- right after the election, I said, look, we have an opportunity because they, for the first time, feel as though the entire country and our civilization could slide off the cliff, where they thought that was insane before. They now know how fragile things are, and they are afraid of the same thing you are afraid of, for the opposite reason.

STU: And my instinct hearing that, knowing Sarah Silverman and what she said over the past several years is to dismiss it. Because, well, are you even -- it's so inconsistent to where she has been and the things she has said publicly about politics recently.

But, I mean, A, I should resist that instinct, right?

GLENN: Yes.

STU: If she's changed -- if she's decided she did things wrong in the past, great. But you're right, you have to take that additional step. People dismissed you when you said things like that.

GLENN: But I took the initial step.

STU: You took the initial step to say, look, I've done things that I don't like, in the middle of this. You take responsibility for whatever you can find that you feel that you may have done wrong.

GLENN: Yeah. And you have to do that. You have to do that before you do the other side.

STU: Yeah.

GLENN: You have to say, look, I'm going to take on my own side, I want to take on me, before I even take on my own side. I will take on me. What am I responsible for? How did I miss it? What did I do?

And, quite honestly, I think be generous on the give yourself an extra helping of, you know, I made mistakes.

STU: Yeah. Like think of the border thing for a minute. If the left came to you and they said -- they're always saying, we need to let these people who are illegals become legals. Become citizens. You have to give them passes on their illegal activity from before.

And if they came to you, not and just said it, but actually secured the border and actually went through and there were no new illegal immigrants coming in and they were arresting the ones that tried. And they were very -- like they actually took steps on their own --

GLENN: I would be for it. I would be for it.

STU: I don't know that I would be for it, but you would at least consider it, right?

GLENN: I would be willing to say, okay. We're not going to call more problems by doing this. Because we have -- and I would need something physical. Because I wouldn't believe that the next guy is coming in and he's --

STU: Right.

GLENN: You build a wall -- the only reason why I want a wall is because I don't believe that the presidents will be consistent from one to the next. And so if you actually secured our nation and you actually took it seriously, then I would -- I would seriously consider that.

STU: Yeah. And if they said --

GLENN: But not until.

STU: -- look, this is our fault. We were the ones that were really light on border security. That's why these people are. We realize now it is a problem. But as everyone will admit, there are people here that seemingly have lasted multiple decades and haven't been committing additional crimes. Maybe they're okay. Let's talk about those people.

GLENN: Yep. I would be there.

STU: Especially if you take responsibility for the problem. It was our fault, because we didn't allow you to have border security because we kept saying you were racists.

GLENN: Yes.

STU: If they came to you with that sort of pitch, at least you would consider it.

GLENN: Yes. Absolutely. And I think most Americans would.

STU: Uh-huh.

GLENN: It's just, it requires both sides to own it. And none of them are going to own it.

So here's a story: Late June, President Trump hosted a group of Native American tribal leaders at the White House and urged them to, quote, just do it. And extract whatever they want from the land they control.

The exchange turned out to be an unusual vivid window into almost kingly power that Donald Trump sees himself as holding, which he has begun describing with increasing bluntness.

This scene was recounted by a source in the room and confirmed by another at the White House. The White House has not disputed this story. The chiefs explained to Trump that there was regulatory barriers preventing from getting at their own energy. Trump said, but it's me. The government is different now. Obama is done. And we're doing things differently here.

There was a pause in the room. And the tribal leaders looked at each other.

Chief, chief, Trump continued, addressing one of the tribal leaders. What are they going to do? Once you get it out of the ground, are they going to make you put it back in there? I mean, once it's out of the ground, it can't get back in there. You just got to do it. I'm telling you chief, you just got to do it.

The tribal leaders looked back at one of the White House officials in the room, perhaps somebody from the White House counsel's office could answer: Can we just do that?

The official equivocated, saying the administration is making progress and has a plan to roll back various regulations.

Trump interjected again: Guys, I feel like you're not hearing me right now. We've got to just do it. I feel like we have no other choice. Countries are doing it. China is not asking questions about all this stuff. They're just doing it. Guys, just do it.

Okay. So this is what the left fears. And this is what the right fears.

The right fears somebody who is going to say, just take these rights away. Just do it. I know we can't -- just do it. I'm here. It's different now.

No. There are laws. Now, the left is afraid of a president who will just tell the Indian chiefs or somebody else, just do it.

No. Where we're supposed to come together is not on the man or the party, but the principle. There is a law, the president is not a king, you don't just do it.

You don't pass it to find out what's inside it. You don't lie to the American people to sell stuff. And you don't just do it through executive order or just because you say so.

We're a nation of laws, not of men. And the idea that we have to arm ourselves against a -- an out-of-control government, because that's what she's saying.

Now all of a sudden I understand guns. Well, I could say back to Sarah, well, wait a minute, Sarah. Are you going to fight the tanks? Are you going to fight the missiles? Are you going to fight the drones? Because that's what they always say.

Yeah, if I have to. If it's a fascistic government, yes. If it's a totalitarian government, yes.

If it's a religiously -- a religious totalitarian government? Yes. If it's an atheist totalitarian government? Yes. If it's a constitutional government, based on this Constitution? No. No, I'm not.

Because I have nothing to fear from that government. But we are not that government. And we are not moving in the direction that strengthens that government. We are moving away from that government.

And this is where the left and the right should be able to come together. I don't want to regulate you. Don't you regulate me.

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

Vaughn Ridley / Stringer | Getty Images

Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

Joe Raedle / Staff | Getty Images

The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

NOVA SAFO / Staff | Getty Images

Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

The Crisis of Meaning: Searching for truth and purpose

Mario Tama / Staff | Getty Images

Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.