President Donald Trump reportedly wants to add his own head to Mount Rushmore National Memorial. But the National Park Service says there’s no room next to the four current presidents: George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt. [
Branch & White 6/27/2025] Here’s an innovative proposal for how to immortalize him right there in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
On May 21, I was in the Seattle immigration court accompanying a young mother from a South American country who was applying for asylum to a routine hearing. Local media had reported that Immigration and Customs Enforcement had arrested several people there the previous day.
Like any self-respecting don of a powerful crime family, Donald Trump - AKA “Don the Con” - always gets a taste of any action going down on his territory. And that territory, as recent events have made clear, knows no borders. (I mean, except for the southwest one.)
A small incident in the mounting mayhem of the 2024 elections crystalized the state of the dark art of politics in these United States. In Springfield, Ohio, a small midwestern industrial city, a woman named Anna Kilgore noticed that her cat, Miss Sassy, had been missing for a few days. Kilgore notified the police that she feared her kitty might have been caught and eaten by the Haitian immigrants who lived next door.
The Yakima River runs southeast from the Cascade Mountains through central Washington state to merge with the Columbia a little north of Oregon. From the small city of Yakima on down, its course broadens from a winding canyon into a wide valley bounded by austere low ridges of gray-green sagebrush and tawny grasses. In mid-April, the new leaves of the willows and cottonwoods light up the riverbanks with luminous chartreuse.
For a while in 2018, the Donald Trump administration’s “family separation” policy looked like it might become the Stalingrad of his war on immigrants. It was clearly a bridge too far politically, given the global outcry it provoked. Even parts of the Republican party couldn’t stomach it. So Trump retreated strategically on family separation, and intentionally left the program so disorganized that reuniting parents and children became a still-incomplete ordeal.
The specters of slave patrols and Ku Klux Klan night riders haunted the viral
videos. They showed cowboy-hatted Border Patrol agents on horseback insulting and threatening Haitian families with children as they crossed the Rio Grande into Texas. The outrage reverberated around the world and inside the Beltway. But the story soon disappeared from the news cycle.
A widely condemned Trump administration program designed to slash legal immigration to the United States, initially terminated by the Joe Biden administration, has been reinstated by court rulings on a Republican lawsuit. Human-rights and immigrant justice advocates have gone on the legal and political offensive against the decision, and are pressing the Biden administration to bypass the court’s roadblock.
“A crime against humanity” and “a disgrace to our great country”: that’s how 99-year-old Benjamin Ferencz, the last surviving prosecutor of the Nazis at the Nuremberg war-crimes trials,
characterized the Donald Trump administration’s coercive separation of thousands of immigrant children from parents seeking asylum.
The Valley of the Sun is a vast, flat stretch of Sonoran Desert, etched by arroyos and studded with small, jagged peaks. It spans about 50 miles (80 kilometers) west to east and 40 miles (64 kilometers) north to south in south-central Arizona (the state that borders southern California to the east). After cruising through southward on one of the tangle of freeways that vein the expanse, we can leadfoot it another 100 miles (161 kilometers) southeast to Tucson across much the same hardscape, only gradually gaining elevation. The saguaro cacti grow more thickly, but the higher cordilleras maintain a discreet distance most of the way.
By late September, the COVID-19 pandemic in the United States had claimed
200,000 lives. That’s equivalent to a slightly higher toll than the 418,500 United States deaths in World War II, adjusted for relative population and duration. [See note below.]
A century ago, Italian immigrants told a joke: “Before I came to America, I thought the streets were paved with gold. When I got here, I learned three things: one, the streets were not paved with gold; two, the streets were not paved at all; and three, they expected me to pave them.”
“Enhanced interrogation”: the George W. Bush administration bureaucrats who coined the term had perfect pitch. The apparatchiks of Kafka’s Castle would have admired the grayness of the euphemism. But while it sounds like some new kind of focus group, it turns out it was just anodyne branding for good old-fashioned torture.
Since his college days, John Schmitt says, he’s been “very interested in questions of economic justice, economic inequality.”
In 1958, when New York State was considering raising its minimum wage, merchants complained that their profit margins were so small that they would have to cut their work forces or go out of business. In 2014 in Seattle at hearings on a proposed minimum wage increase, some businesses voiced the same fears.
“Supersize my salary now!” The refrain rose over a busy street outside a McDonald’s in downtown Seattle.
Puzzled by the immigration debate in the United States? Remember the Maginot Line.
On a hillside overlooking Port-au-Prince, a muscular Haitian man in a green tank top raises a heavy steel pry bar over his head and brings it down into a hole, shattering a bit of Haiti’s limestone skeleton.
In the evening the lowering clouds burst. Through the night they loosed their torrents on the southeastern coast of Haiti.
Haitian farmers are worried that giant transnational corporations like Monsanto are attempting to gain a larger foothold in the local economy under the guise of earthquake relief and rebuilding.