Now, here is an interesting case that will test you.

California high court just ruled that the state has to grant an illegal immigrant a law license.


He came to the states 20 years ago with his family and worked in the fields and a grocery store to pay for college. He became a para-legal, worked in a law office and entered law school. He passed the Bar on his first try.

Illegal is illegal.

But …. before we continue … here is an example of an illegal who was brought in as a teenager. He turned out to be the kind of illegal who worked hard, didn’t get in trouble and relived the dream that America has always offered immigrants.

Those are all good points … but illegal is still illegal …unless there’s a change in status by the individual, legislative action, decree or some other initiative.

Illegals are already allowed to get drivers’ licenses in at least one state, and yet we can’t even force voters to have a picture ID.

As you know, the Obama administration has been against voter ID and pushing to give more rights and amnesty to illegals.

So here’s the test: Are you against giving this illegal a law license?

If you are … then, in this case, you agree with the Obama Administration.

Federal government lawyers argued that California should NOT approve the law license for an illegal.

So how do you rule?



He is rightfully praised, admired and lifted up as an example for many.
He is an historical figure with a legacy that will survive the ages.

All of yesterday’s, today’s and tomorrow’s glorifications are worthy on so many levels … but we should not forget: he was just a man.

Personally, I respect his courage, determination and maybe most of all … his sense of forgiveness … even after 27 years in prison.
Mandela spent most of that time in a small cell with a floor for his bed, a bucket for a toilet and hours of hard labor.
Most of us surviving that brutal horror would have come out in rage … demanding revenge for those responsible for unjust imprisonment, but Mandela said, Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.

Apartheid is forever a sin on his homeland as slavery is for our nation.
The fight against apartheid can never be told without including Mandela … just as the story to end slavery includes Lincoln.
Each man in their time in history took a stand.

Yet, as with any of us … each had flaws that were part of their personal history and character.

In truth, Lincoln was not so much for ending slavery as preserving the Union, and in documented cases, he used derogatory terms for blacks.

Mandela has been criticized for aligning with Communists (his only avenue of support at that time), and he has been sharply critical of our nation: “If there is a country that has committed unspeakable atrocities in the world, it is the United States of America. They don’t care for human beings.”

That Mandela quote … angers me … especially coming from a man that in so many ways I admire.

But it also emphasizes my basic premise: Despite all his worthy and honorable acts, Mandela was just a man.

And since we all have sins and failings … who among us can cast that first stone?

We should join in honoring and celebrating Mandela’s life and victory over crushing powers and obstacles, but we should resist making him a god.

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela (July 18, 1918 – December 5, 2013)
“Do not judge me by my successes, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.”
“I hate race discrimination most intensely and in all its manifestations. I have fought it all during my life; I fight it now, and will do so until the end of my days.”
“When a man has done what he considers to be his duty to his people and his country, he can rest in peace.”



A few weeks ago, I posted a story relayed to me by a local nurse. She works at one of the well known cancer treatment centers; she was upset knowing some patients were going to be denied treatments due to ObamaCare.
Some questioned how that could be true.
Today, more reports surfaced that those cases are increasing. In some cases, patients are being denied care because insurance companies are dropping the more expensive hospitals providing cancer care and now some hospitals are opting out, unwilling to accept lower rates paid by insurance companies. The local nurse had told me that latter issue was happening at her facility.
All of this from a program that was supposed to help.
Such a shame ….



I was reminded of this story the other day while looking at pictures of my grandson in Florida.
He looked so much bigger, and that was confirmed when I saw another picture of him with his father. I knew his father’s size and could kind of equate my grandson’s size based on his father.

When you live far from grandchildren, it’s sometimes hard to have a way to put their growth into perspective.

When my first child was born, we got a large Daffy Duck doll and started taking pictures of her with that doll. It helped grandparents and other relatives see how much she was growing.

When my brother and sisters were growing up, Dad came up with his way of measuring our growth on an annual basis.

He would have us stand next to the door frame going into the garage and then he would use a pencil and place a mark above our head.
Then, he would write our age and the date.
Over the years, each of us could see those marks and not only measure our growth, but see how our siblings were growing.

I know we weren’t the only family using such a system.

That door frame became a valuable piece of our family history … and when my parents sold that house …well, the new owners had to wonder: What happened to one strip of the door frame leading to the garage?



This time of year, numerous organizations try to help those in need and especially the kids.
I will never be able to list nor promote all those efforts, but I encourage you to look around and find one or more that you want to support.
The groups in major cities and areas tend to get a lot of attention, and in those areas, there is a great need … but groups serving rural areas have a tremendous need and get little attention or support.
One example is in Bismarck, Missouri.
A reader tells me that his church is holding its Christmas Drive for Toys and Food; the church use to serve 700 families a month, but had to cut back to 300 families due to lack of support.
That means at least 400 families in need will not be helped.
If you want to contribute, contact the Hands of Christ Ministries in Bismarck for more details. (573-734-6300)
Again, this is just one effort that would appreciate the help, but let God, your heart and mind guide you where you can provide for the needy … rural or city.



At 6:17 this morning, the State of Missouri executed 63 year old Joseph Paul Franklin.

The White Supremacist serial killer was put to death for killing Gerald Gordon.

I covered that story in 1977 when Franklin armed with a rifle chose a spot near a St. Louis synagogue and waited. He wasn’t looking to specifically kill Gordon; he just wanted to kill a Jew.

He chose Brith Sholom Kneseth Israel Synagogue in Richmond Heights from the Yellow Pages. Then, on Oct. 8, 1977, he was lying in ambush as a bar mitzvah ended. He aimed at guests in the parking lot and started shooting.

He fired 5 shots and one bullet killed the 42 year old Gordon who had three children.

Franklin was not caught that day and for 3 more years continued sniping victims he chose because of his hate.

He was finally caught after killing two young black men who were about to go jogging with two teenage white girls in Salt Lake City.

It was while he was in federal prison that Franklin admitted to killing Gordon.
Even though Franklin was convicted of 7 other murders and claimed he had killed 20 … he only got the death sentence for the St. Louis case.

He had also admitted to shooting and wounding civil rights leader Vernon Jordan and Hustler magazine publisher Larry Flynt who has been paralyzed from the waist down since he was shot in 1978.
Franklin bombed a synagogue in Chattanooga, Tennessee, but no one was hurt.

As a sniper he often chose interracial couples … several of his victims were black men who were with white women.
Among his victims, two black children in Cincinnati, three female hitchhikers and a white 15-year-old prostitute that he killed because she had sex with black men.

Monday, in an interview with the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Franklin insisted that he no longer hated blacks or Jews. He says that while in the St. Louis County Jail he interacted with blacks and “I saw they were people just like us.”

There were numerous delays as Missouri tried to execute Franklin, and in the closing days, there were additional appeals and arguments to save his life … issues over the drug to be used, his mental capacity, his trial lawyers’ abilities.

He was to be executed shortly after midnight, but the legal battles continued until this morning at 6:17, Franklin was pronounced dead at Bonne Terre prison.

One of the arguments to save his life was … fear that he might suffer pain from the lethal injection.

Think of the pain he caused his victims.

Think of the pain he caused families and friends of his victims.

They will live with their pain forever.

Previously, I’ve talked about witnessing the execution of George “Tiny” Mercer; in 1989, Mercer was the first to be executed in Missouri after the death penalty was reinstated in 1976.
As I’ve said, I don’t have mercy for Mercer for what he did to his 22 year old female victim.

I don’t have any mercy for Franklin and his killing spree.

God can have mercy on their souls, but I don’t.

So, I really don’t care if Franklin suffered because a needle was put into his arm and he was given a lethal injection that might have stung.

I just … don’t … care.



This Friday’s American Story is a little different than others that reflect on various stages of life, kids, pets and so on.

Also, I can’t claim credit for this story as I’m relating something read decades ago.

I wish that I could cite the source, but while I can find some possibilities, I can’t confirm the original source.

I’m presenting it as An American Story because in the wake of current national events … it seems to have more weight than when I first read it.

The story begins in a classroom … in a Communist/Socialist country.

The teacher tells her first graders: Some of you might have heard about God …and how God will answer all your prayers. Well, let’s see if God really exists … and if He hears you and answers prayers. Put your head down on your desk, close your eyes and let’s pray together.

All the students obediently follow the instructions — putting their heads down and covering their eyes and lead by the teacher they start praying: God if you are real … prove it. Put a piece of candy on my desk.

They pray for about a minute, and then the teacher says, Open your eyes. Raise your hand if you have a piece of candy.

Of course, there is no candy.

The teacher says, Well, that proves there is no God. Or if he does exist, he doesn’t care about you and won’t answer your prayers. Okay, let’s pray again. Put your heads down and cover your eyes.

Again, the students do as instructed.

The Teacher says, Repeat after me. Dear Supreme Leader of our country … we pray that you will give us a piece of candy.

They pray that over and over, and as they do, the teacher goes around the room and quietly places a piece of candy in front of each child.

When she is finished, she says, Open your eyes. Raise your hand if you have candy.

There are shouts of joy and astonishment. Every child has a piece of candy.

Then, one little boy says, Teacher, I saw you put the candy on the desk.

Without missing a beat, the teacher says, Yes, I did. But that proves that while God doesn’t exist or won’t answer your prayer … our Supreme Leader will. So, there is no need to put your faith and prayers in God … our Supreme Leader will give you all you want and need.

End of lesson … End of story.
(An American Story is a Friday Tradition on my FB, and I look forward to your comments and some of your ideas for this feature.)



For centuries, coal miners took a caged canary with them. If a shaft collapsed and cut off air or if toxic gases entered the mine, the canary would die … signaling danger. Countless miners were saved by that early warning system.
Now, Bill Clinton might be compared to the canary in the mine.
He is openly challenging President Obama and the lie that “if you like your insurance
…you can keep it” with ObamaCare.
In an interview, Clinton said:
“I personally believe, even if it takes a change to the law, the president should honor the commitment the federal government made to those people and let them keep what they got.”
That is the canary signaling: Disaster! Disaster!
Bill Clinton has been selling ObamaCare but now is gasping … There’s been a cave in!
The roof is falling and innocent victims are being hurt.
Now, even Clinton is saying the law has to …at the very least … be changed if we are going to stop the disaster.
Obama has relied on Bill Clinton to save him in the past.
This time, will Obama hear and heed the warning or will he insist on carrying the nation deeper into the ObamaCare pit?
Something else for President Obama to keep in mind: In this case, the canary won’t die and could get loose and bite him …over and over.



KMOV’S FEARKMOV continues fighting to keep me off St. Louis television for one simple reason.
General Manager Mark Pimentel and News Director Sean McLaughlin testified in court, they fear that I will pull viewers away from Channel 4.

Every day through the end of this month, KMOV is in November Ratings.
This is a crucial time to show sponsors that the station has a large audience. November, February and May rating periods are critical to KMOV; those times determine how much money the station can charge sponsors.
Low ratings mean low revenue.

Pimentel and McLaughlin testified that my Facebook posting about the IRS so damaged my credibility and integrity that the station had no choice but to terminate me after 27 years as prime anchor.
Despite that claim (*), both also admitted under oath that I am still so popular … that I could cost the station ratings.

Think about that for a moment.

On one hand, I am so damaged that KMOV doesn’t want me, but on the other hand, KMOV fears if another St. Louis television station hires me … well, you get the picture (pun intended).
If I were arrested as a drug dealer and KMOV fired me … do you think the station would fight to keep another station from hiring me?
No. KMOV’s position would be: If you want to put Larry on your air … go ahead.

Common sense says that KMOV can’t argue this both ways.

Will the fact that I’m off Channel 4 … hurt KMOV ratings this month or in February or May?
It’s hard to say, but Channel 4 does fear ratings would suffer if I were on another station.

Let me take a moment to say that I have many friends at KMOV.

They are among the brightest in the business.

I don’t try to contact them because that might put them in jeopardy, but from time to time, I hear from them as they support me and are still upset with my termination.

In a way, we are like players on a sports team. If one of us ends up on an opposing team, we are in competition, but we still have mutual respect and concern for each other.

I continue to wish them the very best as they work hard under this management to provide for their families.

(* KMOV’s claim that I damaged my credibility and how the station is trying to sell that claim to viewers, sponsors and competitors — are the crux of my defamation suit against the station; those statements slander and libel me after 50 years in broadcasting … 38 of those years in St. Louis.
Also, KMOV/BELO management and lawyers slandered my wife in open court. That was just another cheap and unethical tactic to hurt us.
In the future, I plan to discuss actions we will take on that issue.
For now, I will just say that it is obviously not enough for KMOV/BELO management and lawyers to attack me professionally and personally, they are so vindictive and determined to punish my family … and win at any cost — that they attack my wife.)



This isn’t the first time that I’ve told you about things I’ve done that I shouldn’t have, but at this point in my life, I have a need to come clean … as long as the Statute of Limitations has expired.

As a kid, I had a desire to play with fire.

I know … I know … that’s a terrible thing to do and could have lead to property damage or hurting someone.

Thank God, that nothing bad ever really happened, but there were some close calls.

I never tried to start a major fire nor destroy anything except for some of my model planes and cars, but I was fascinated by flames. (I’m sure this is how arsonists start, but for me, it was just childhood interest … misguided interest, but nothing more.)

Sometimes, I would go into the alley with the oil can that I used on my bike chain and squirt oil onto some of my model planes. Then, I would light a match … often several matches since oil is slow to start burning, and I had to add paper to help the process.

Then, when it was in flames, I would imagine my fighter jet had been shot down over enemy territory. But of course, I had parachuted to safety.

Fireworks were always a good release for some of my interests, but there was one time, that I came thisclose to causing some big trouble.

This was when fireworks were not so regulated and the “cherry bombs” were probably the equivalent of at least 1/8 of a stick of dynamite — well, maybe not that dangerous, but still, they packed a powerful explosion.

So after blowing up several of my model planes and cars (see a pattern here of building only to destroy?) … I started putting cherry bombs into cans.

The blast would rip the cans apart. Then, I thought about putting one in a coke bottle.

Stop for one second.

Here is where higher reasoning came into play. I thought, Wow, if the cherry bomb would split a can … it would blow a coke bottle to pieces and shards of glass would blow everywhere.

On one hand, that seemed cool, but on the other … well, I knew about shrapnel … only I called it shap-a-rel … and I thought that could be too dangerous.

So, to show that I was maturing, I did not put a cherry bomb into a glass bottle.


I did decide to place one on something in our trailer park.

I had the cherry bomb set just right and was just preparing to light the fuse when a big hand grabbed my shirt and yanked me away.

Dad stood over me and while I don’t remember all his words … it came down to the fact that I would be very stupid if I struck a match to that cherry bomb … sitting on the gas meter and connection sticking out of the ground.

While I’m purging myself of these sins, I should tell you about the time I ran away from home because Mom of a fire.

I had been doing my normal thing, striking match after match.

Only this time, I was doing it in some grass within a dozen feet of our trailer home.

Suddenly, the grass was jumping with flames.

I tried to put them out, but the blaze continued … moving closer to our house.

I ran.

Mom just happened to look out the kitchen window; she grabbed a pot of water and quickly doused the fire.

She started calling for me in that tone that did not sound inviting.

I appeared from the other side of the trailer, and I did my best acting job to that point of my young life.

My eyes were wide with shock; my mouth was open, asking: What happened?

Mom gave me that look and said. “You could’ve burned down our house and all the other homes.”

That’s when I started doing something that has since been copied all the way to the White House.

Deny. Deny. Deny.

Mom, would have none of it; she made it clear that she knew I started the fire.

Later that day, I’m still looking for a way to prove my denial … before Dad got home.

So, while Mom was at the grocery store, I wrote a goodbye note:
Dear Mom, I did not start that fire. I am sorry you don’t believe me, but I did not do it. Since you don’t believe me, I am leaving home.

That’s what I remember writing, or words to that effect, but I know my grammar and spelling probably had mistakes.

Still, I packed a little bag with some cheese crackers, and my toothbrush (but no toothpaste) and put the note on the kitchen table so Mom would see it when she came home.

Then, I waited and waited for her to return.

Finally, she did, and then I watched from the back of the trailer as she saw the note and started reading it.

Then, I went out the backdoor, making a lot of noise to make sure she knew that I was gone … forever and ever.

I was leaving home because I was falsely accused of a crime I did not do.

I slammed the door twice … just to make sure she knew that I was going.

When I didn’t hear her call for me, I slammed it a third time; then, I walked … ever so slowly so she could catch up to me … into the small forest behind our trailer.

She didn’t chase after me. She didn’t call out to me. She didn’t say that she was sorry that she accused me of starting a fire.

So, I went into the forest (more like a stand of 30 to 50 small trees) and I waited.

I had no watch, but I waited a long time. Long enough to eat all my cheese crackers and still no one came for me.

So, this was it. I had left home and no one cared.

I scratched around the dirt with my toothbrush and decided that I should have brought some water.

My throat was parched; my teeth filled with cheese cracker crumbs; I was alone with no one to love me and I was thirsty.

I decided to give Mom one more chance.

I went back home.

I walked into the kitchen, and she was busy at the stove.

I got a glass of water and kept watching and waiting to see what she would do, what she would say about me leaving home, how thankful she was that I had returned.

Nothing. Nothing.

Finally, I went back outside to play.

She never talked about the day I left home, and if she told Dad, for some reason, he decided to do nothing … not even to punish me for setting the fire.

Which I did not start.