<html>
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8">
</head>
<body text="#000000" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">
<p>Thank you, Nick. I know his "base" can't take their fingers out
of their ears, their hands of their eyes, or utter "I was
wrong"....but the truth is out there.</p>
<p>Debi R-S<br>
</p>
<div class="moz-cite-prefix">On 1/17/2020 12:08 PM, Nicholas Gier
wrote:<br>
</div>
<blockquote type="cite"
cite="mid:CAH=vCc4CA+mmbAVZfQ71zqDST=E_gVfMk2jQrc7gA4m3obhhxA@mail.gmail.com">
<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8">
<div dir="ltr"><br clear="all">
<div>
<p
style="box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;margin:0px
0px 1.9rem;padding:0px"><font size="4"><a
href="mailto:carol.leonnig@washpost.com"
moz-do-not-send="true">carol.leonnig@washpost.com</a> <br>
<a href="mailto:philip.rucker@washpost.com"
moz-do-not-send="true">philip.rucker@washpost.com</a></font></p>
<p
style="box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;margin:0px
0px 1.9rem;padding:0px"><font size="4">excerpts from "A Very
Stable Genius" <br>
</font></p>
<p
style="box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;margin:0px
0px 1.9rem;padding:0px"><font size="4">There is no more
sacred room for military officers than 2E924 of the
Pentagon, a windowless and secure vault where the Joint
Chiefs <font style="" face="georgia, serif">of Staff meet
regularly to wrestle with classified matters. Its more
common name is “the Tank.” The Tank resembles a small
corporate boardroom, with a gleaming golden oak table,
leather swivel armchairs and other mid-century stylings.
Inside its walls, flag officers observe a reverence and
decorum for the wrenching decisions that have been made
there. </font></font></p>
<p
style="box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;margin:0px
0px 1.9rem;padding:0px"><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Hanging
prominently on one of the walls is The Peacemakers, a
painting that depicts an 1865 Civil War strategy session
with President Abraham Lincoln and his three service
chiefs — Lieutenant General Ulysses S. Grant, Major
General William Tecumseh Sherman, and Rear Admiral David
Dixon Porter. One hundred fifty-two years after Lincoln
hatched plans to preserve the Union, President Trump’s
advisers staged an intervention inside the Tank to try to
preserve the world order.</font></p>
<p
style="box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;margin:0px
0px 1.9rem;padding:0px"><font size="4" face="georgia, serif"> <span
style="color:rgb(34,34,34)">By that point, six months
into his administration, Secretary of Defense Jim
Mattis, Director of the National Economic Council Gary
Cohn, and Secretary of State Rex Tillerson had grown
alarmed by gaping holes in Trump’s knowledge of history,
especially the key alliances forged following World War
II. Trump had dismissed allies as worthless, cozied up
to authoritarian regimes in Russia and elsewhere, and
advocated withdrawing troops from strategic outposts and
active theaters alike. </span></font></p>
<font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Trump organized his
unorthodox worldview under the simplistic banner of “America
First,” but Mattis, Tillerson, and Cohn feared his proposals
were rash, barely considered, and a danger to America’s
superpower standing. They also felt that many of Trump’s
impulsive ideas stemmed from his lack of familiarity with
U.S. history and, even, where countries were located. To
have a useful discussion with him, the trio agreed, they had
to create a basic knowledge, a shared language. </font></div>
<div><font size="4"><font face="georgia, serif"><br>
So on July 20, 2017, Mattis invited Trump to the Tank for
what he, Tillerson, and Cohn had carefully organized as a
tailored tutorial. What happened inside the Tank that day
crystallized the commander in chief’s berating, derisive
and dismissive manner, foreshadowing decisions </font><span
style="font-family:georgia,serif">such as the one earlier
this month that brought the United States to the brink of
war with Iran. The Tank meeting was a turning point in
Trump’s presidency. Rather than getting him to appreciate
America’s traditional role and alliances, Trump began to
tune out and eventually push away the experts who believed
their duty was to protect the country by restraining his
more dangerous impulses. </span></font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif"><br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">The episode has been
documented numerous times, but subsequent reporting reveals
a more complete picture of the moment and the chilling
effect Trump’s comments and hostility had on the nation’s
military and national security leadership. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Just before 10 a.m. on
a scorching summer Thursday, Trump arrived at the Pentagon.
He stepped out of his motorcade, walked along a corridor
with portraits honoring former chairmen of the Joint Chiefs,
and stepped inside the Tank. The uniformed officers greeted
their commander in chief. Chairman of the Joint Chiefs
General Joseph F. Dunford Jr. sat in the seat of honor
midway down the table, because this was his room, and Trump
sat at the head of the table facing a projection screen.
Mattis and the newly confirmed deputy defense secretary,
Patrick Shanahan, sat to the president’s left, with Vice
President Pence and Tillerson to his right. Down the table
sat the leaders of the military branches, along with Cohn
and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin. White House chief
strategist Stephen K. Bannon was in the outer ring of chairs
with other staff, taking his seat just behind Mattis and
directly in Trump’s line of sight. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Mattis, Cohn, and
Tillerson and their aides decided to use maps, graphics, and
charts to tutor the president, figuring they would help keep
him from getting bored. Mattis opened with a slide show
punctuated by lots of dollar signs. Mattis devised a
strategy to use terms the impatient president, schooled in
real estate, would appreciate to impress upon him the value
of U.S. investments abroad. He sought to explain why U.S.
troops were deployed in so many regions and why America’s
safety hinged on a complex web of trade deals, alliances,
and bases across the globe. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">An opening line
flashed on the screen, setting the tone: “The post-war
international rules-based order is the greatest gift of the
greatest generation.” Mattis then gave a 20-minute briefing
on the power of the NATO alliance to stabilize Europe and
keep the United States safe. Bannon thought to himself, “Not
good. Trump is not going to like that one bit.” The
internationalist language Mattis was using was a trigger for
Trump. <br>
“Oh, baby, this is going to be f---ing wild,” Bannon
thought. “If you stood up and threatened to shoot [Trump],
he couldn’t say ‘postwar rules-based international order.’
It’s just not the way he thinks.” <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">For the next 90
minutes, Mattis, Tillerson, and Cohn took turns trying to
emphasize their points, pointing to their charts and
diagrams. They showed where U.S. personnel were positioned,
at military bases, CIA stations, and embassies, and how U.S.
deployments fended off the threats of terror cells, nuclear
blasts, and destabilizing enemies in places including
Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, the Korea Peninsula, and Syria.
Cohn spoke for about 20 minutes about the value of free
trade with America’s allies, emphasizing how he saw each
trade agreement working together as part of an overall
structure to solidify U.S. economic and national security. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Trump appeared peeved
by the schoolhouse vibe but also allergic to the dynamic of
his advisers talking at him. His ricocheting attention span
led him to repeatedly interrupt the lesson. He heard an
adviser say a word or phrase and then seized on that to
interject with his take. For instance, the word “base”
prompted him to launch in to say how “crazy” and “stupid” it
was to pay for bases in some countries. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Trump’s first
complaint was to repeat what he had vented about to his
national security adviser months earlier: South Korea should
pay for a $10 billion missile defense system that the United
States built for it. The system was designed to shoot down
any short- and medium-range ballistic missiles from North
Korea to protect South Korea and American troops stationed
there. But Trump argued that the South Koreans should pay
for it, proposing that the administration pull U.S. troops
out of the region or bill the South Koreans for their
protection. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">“We should charge them
rent,” Trump said of South Korea. “We should make them pay
for our soldiers. We should make money off of everything.” <br>
Trump proceeded to explain that NATO, too, was worthless.
U.S. generals were letting the allied member countries get
away with murder, he said, and they owed the United States a
lot of money after not living up to their promise of paying
their dues. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">“They’re in arrears,”
Trump said, reverting to the language of real estate. He
lifted both his arms at his sides in frustration. Then he
scolded top officials for the </font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">untold millions of
dollars he believed they had let slip through their fingers
by allowing allies to avoid their obligations. <br>
“We are owed money you haven’t been collecting!” Trump told
them. “You would totally go bankrupt if you had to run your
own business.” <br>
<br>
Mattis wasn’t trying to convince the president of anything,
only to explain and provide facts. Now things were devolving
quickly. The general tried to calmly explain to the
president that he was not quite right. The NATO allies
didn’t owe the United States back rent, he said. The truth
was more complicated. NATO had a nonbinding goal that
members should pay at least 2 percent of their gross
domestic product on their defenses. Only five of the
countries currently met that goal, but it wasn’t as if they
were shorting the United States on the bill. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">More broadly, Mattis
argued, the NATO alliance was not serving only to protect
western Europe. It protected America, too. “This is what
keeps us safe,” Mattis said. Cohn tried to explain to Trump
that he needed to see the value of the trade deals. “These
are commitments that help keep us safe,” Cohn said. <br>
Bannon interjected. “Stop, stop, stop,” he said. “All you
guys talk about all these great things, they’re all our
partners, I want you to name me now one country and one
company that’s going to have his back.” <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Trump then repeated a
threat he’d made countless times before. He wanted out of
the Iran nuclear deal that President Obama had struck in
2015, which called for Iran to reduce its uranium stockpile
and cut its nuclear program. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">“It’s the worst deal
in history!” Trump declared. “Well, actually . . .,”
Tillerson interjected. “I don’t want to hear it,” Trump
said, cutting off the secretary of state before he could
explain some of the benefits of the agreement. “They’re
cheating. They’re building. We’re getting out of it. I keep
telling you, I keep giving you time, and you keep delaying
me. I want out of it.” <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Before they could
debate the Iran deal, Trump erupted to revive another
frequent complaint: the war in Afghanistan, which was now
America’s longest war. He demanded an explanation for why
the United States hadn’t won in Afghanistan yet, now 16
years after the nation began fighting there in the wake of
the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Trump unleashed his disdain,
calling Afghanistan a “loser war.” That phrase hung in the
air and disgusted not only the military leaders at the table
but also the men and women in uniform sitting along the back
wall behind their principals. They all were sworn to obey
their commander in chief’s commands, and here he was calling
the war they had been fighting a loser war. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">“You’re all losers,”
Trump said. “You don’t know how to win anymore.” Trump
questioned why the United States couldn’t get some oil as
payment for the troops stationed in the Persian Gulf. “We
spent $7 trillion; they’re ripping us off,” Trump boomed.
“Where is the f---ing oil?” <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4" face="georgia, serif">Trump seemed to be
speaking up for the voters who elected him, and several
attendees thought they heard Bannon in Trump’s words. Bannon
had been trying to persuade Trump to withdraw forces by
telling him, “The American people are saying we can’t spend
a trillion dollars a year on this. We just can’t. It’s going
to bankrupt us.” <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4"><font face="georgia, serif">“And not just
that, the deplorables don’t want their kids in the South
China Sea at the 38th parallel or in Syria, in
Afghanistan, in perpetuity,” Bannon would add, invoking
Hillary Clinton’s infamous “basket of deplorables”
reference to Trump supporters. <br>
Trump mused about removing General John Nicholson, the
U.S. commander in charge of troops in Afghanistan. “I
don’t think he knows how to win,” the president said,
impugning Nicholson, who was not present at the meeting. <br>
Dunford tried to come to Nicholson’s defense, but the
mild-mannered general struggled to convey his points to
the irascible president. <br>
“Mr. President, that’s just not . . .,” Dunford started.
“We’ve been under different orders.” <br>
Dunford sought to explain that he hadn’t been charged with
annihilating the enemy in Afghanistan but was instead
following a strategy started by the Obama administration
to gradually reduce the military presence in the country
in hopes of training locals to maintain a stable
government so that eventually the United States could pull
out. Trump shot back in more plain language. <br>
“I want to win,” he said. “We don’t win any wars anymore
. . . We spend $7 trillion, everybody else got the oil and
we’re not winning anymore.” <br>
Trump by now was in one of his rages. He was so angry that
he wasn’t taking many breaths. All morning, he had been
coarse and cavalier, but the next several things he
bellowed went beyond that description. They stunned nearly
everyone in the room, and some vowed that they would never
repeat them. Indeed, they have not been reported until
now. <br>
“I wouldn’t go to war with you people,” Trump told the
assembled brass. <br>
Addressing the room, the commander in chief barked,
“You’re a bunch of dopes and babies.” <br>
For a president known for verbiage he euphemistically
called “locker room talk,” this was the gravest insult he
could have delivered to these people, in this sacred
space. The flag officers in the room were shocked. Some
staff began looking down at their papers, rearranging
folders, almost wishing themselves out of the room. A few
considered walking out. They tried not to reveal their
revulsion on their faces, but questions raced through
their minds. “How does the commander in chief say that?”
one thought. “What would our worst adversaries think if
they knew he said this?” <br>
This was a president who had been labeled a “draft dodger”
for avoiding service in the Vietnam War under questionable
circumstances. Trump was a young man born of privilege and
in seemingly perfect health: six feet two inches with a
muscular build and a flawless medical record. He played
several sports, including football. Then, in 1968 at age
22, he obtained a diagnosis of bone spurs in his heels
that exempted him from military service just as the United
States was drafting men his age to fulfill massive troop
deployments to Vietnam. </font>Tillerson in particular
was stunned by Trump’s diatribe and began visibly seething.
For too many minutes, others in the room noticed, he had
been staring straight, dumbfounded, at Mattis, who was
speechless, his head bowed down toward the table. Tillerson
thought to himself, “Gosh darn it, Jim, say something. Why
aren’t you saying something?” <br>
<br>
But, as he would later tell close aides, Tillerson realized
in that moment that Mattis was genetically a Marine, unable
to talk back to his commander in chief, no matter what
nonsense came out of his mouth. <br>
The more perplexing silence was from Pence, a leader who
should have been able to stand up to Trump. Instead, one
attendee thought, “He’s sitting there frozen like a statue.
Why doesn’t he stop the president?” Another recalled the
vice president was “a wax museum guy.” From the start of the
meeting, Pence looked as if he wanted to escape and put an
end to the president’s torrent. Surely, he disagreed with
Trump’s characterization of military leaders as “dopes and
babies,” considering his son, Michael, was a Marine first
lieutenant then training for his naval aviator wings. But
some surmised Pence feared getting crosswise with Trump. “A
total deer in the headlights,” recalled a third attendee. <br>
Others at the table noticed Trump’s stream of venom had
taken an emotional toll. So many people in that room had
gone to war and risked their lives for their country, and
now they were being dressed down by a president who had not.
They felt sick to their stomachs. Tillerson told others he
thought he saw a woman in the room silently crying. He was
furious and decided he couldn’t stand it another minute. His
voice broke into Trump’s tirade, this one about trying to
make money off U.S. troops. <br>
“No, that’s just wrong,” the secretary of state said. “Mr.
President, you’re totally wrong. None of that is true.” <br>
Tillerson’s father and uncle had both been combat veterans,
and he was deeply proud of their service. <br>
“The men and women who put on a uniform don’t do it to
become soldiers of fortune,” Tillerson said. “That’s not why
they put on a uniform and go out and die . . . They do it to
protect our freedom.” <br>
There was silence in the Tank. Several military officers in
the room were grateful to the secretary of state for
defending them when no one else would. The meeting soon
ended and Trump walked out, saying goodbye to a group of
servicemen lining the corridor as he made his way to his
motorcade waiting outside. Mattis, Tillerson, and Cohn were
deflated. Standing in the hall with a small cluster of
people he trusted, Tillerson finally let down his guard. <br>
“He’s a f---ing moron,” the secretary of state said of the
president. <br>
The plan by Mattis, Tillerson, and Cohn to train the
president to appreciate the internationalist view had
clearly backfired. <br>
“We were starting to get out on the wrong path, and we
really needed to have a course correction and needed to
educate, to teach, to help him understand the reason and
basis for a lot of these things,” said one senior official
involved in the planning. “We needed to change how he thinks
about this, to course correct. Everybody was on board, 100
percent agreed with that sentiment. [But] they were dismayed
and in shock when not only did it not have the intended
effect, but he dug in his heels and pushed it even further
on the spectrum, further solidifying his views.” <br>
A few days later, Pence’s national security adviser, Andrea
Thompson, a retired Army colonel who had served in
Afghanistan and Iraq, reached out to thank Tillerson for
speaking up on behalf of the military and the public
servants who had been in the Tank. By September 2017, she
would leave the White House and join Tillerson at Foggy
Bottom as undersecretary of state for arms control and
international security affairs. <br>
The Tank meeting had so thoroughly shocked the conscience of
military leaders that they tried to keep it a secret. At the
Aspen Security Forum two days later, longtime NBC News
correspondent Andrea Mitchell asked Dunford how Trump had
interacted during the Tank meeting. The Joint Chiefs
chairman misleadingly described the meeting, skipping over
the fireworks. <br>
“He asked a lot of hard questions, and the one thing he does
is question some fundamental assumptions that we make as
military leaders — and he will come in and question those,”
Dunford told Mitchell on July 22. “It’s a pretty energetic
and an interactive dialogue.” <br>
One victim of the Tank meeting was Trump’s relationship with
Tillerson, which forever after was strained. The secretary
of state came to see it as the beginning of the end. It
would only worsen when news that Tillerson had called Trump
a “moron” was first reported in October 2017 by NBC News. </font></div>
<div><font size="4"><br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4">Trump once again gathered his generals and
top diplomats in December 2017 for a meeting as part of the
administration’s ongoing strategy talks about troop
deployments in Afghanistan in the Situation Room, a secure
meeting room on the ground floor of the West Wing. Trump
didn’t like the Situation Room as much as the Pentagon’s
Tank, because he didn’t think it had enough gravitas. It
just wasn’t impressive. <br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4">But there Trump was, struggling to come up
with a new Afghanistan policy and frustrated that so many
U.S. forces were deployed in so many places around the
world. The conversation began to tilt in the same direction
as it had in the Tank back in July. <br>
“All these countries need to start paying us for the troops
we are sending to their countries. We need to be making a
profit,” Trump said. “We could turn a profit on this.” <br>
Dunford tried to explain to the president once again,
gently, that troops deployed in these regions provided
stability there, which helped make America safer. Another
officer chimed in that charging other countries for U.S.
soldiers would be against the law. <br>
“But it just wasn’t working,” one former Trump aide
recalled. “Nothing worked.” <br>
Following the Tank meeting, Tillerson had told his aides
that he would never silently tolerate such demeaning talk
from Trump about making money off the deployments of U.S.
soldiers. Tillerson’s father, at the age of 17, had
committed to enlist in the Navy on his next birthday,
wanting so much to serve his country in World War II. His
great-uncle was a career officer in the Navy as well. Both
men had been on his mind, Tillerson told aides, when Trump
unleashed his tirade in the Tank and again when he repeated
those points in the Situation Room in December. <br>
“We need to get our money back,” Trump told his assembled
advisers. <br>
That was it. Tillerson stood up. But when he did so, he
turned his back to the president and faced the flag officers
and the rest of the aides in the room. He didn’t want a
repeat of the scene in the Tank. <br>
“I’ve never put on a uniform, but I know this,” Tillerson
said. “Every person who has put on a uniform, the people in
this room, they don’t do it to make a buck. They did it for
their country, to protect us. I want everyone to be clear
about how much we as a country value their service.” <br>
Tillerson’s rebuke made Trump angry. He got a little red in
the face. But the president decided not to engage Tillerson
at that moment. He would wait to take him on another day. <br>
Later that evening, after 8:00, Tillerson was working in his
office at the State Department’s Foggy Bottom headquarters,
preparing for the next day. The phone rang. It was Dunford.
The Joint Chiefs chairman’s voice was unsteady with emotion.
Dunford had much earlier joked with Tillerson that in past
administrations the secretaries of state and Defense
Department leaders wouldn’t be caught dead walking on the
same side of the street, for their rivalry was that fierce.
But now, as both men served Trump, they were brothers joined
against what they saw as disrespect for service members.
Dunford thanked Tillerson for standing up for them in the
Situation Room. <br>
“You took the body blows for us,” Dunford said. “Punch after
punch. Thank you. I will never forget it.” <br>
<br>
Tillerson, Dunford, and Mattis would not take those body
blows for much longer. They failed to rein in Trump’s
impulses or to break through what they regarded as the
president’s stubborn, even dangerous insistence that he knew
best. Piece by piece, the guardrails that had hemmed in the
chaos of Trump’s presidency crumpled. <br>
In March 2018, Trump abruptly fired Tillerson while the
secretary of state was halfway across the globe on a
sensitive diplomatic mission to Africa to ease tensions
caused by Trump’s demeaning insults about African
countries. </font></div>
<div><font size="4"><br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4">Trump gave Tillerson no rationale for his
firing, and afterward acted as if they were buddies,
inviting him to come by the Oval Office to take a picture
and have the president sign it. Tillerson never went. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4">Mattis continued serving as the defense
secretary, but the president’s sudden decision in December
2018 to withdraw troops from Syria and abandon America’s
Kurdish allies there — one the president soon reversed, only
to remake 10 months later — inspired him to resign. Mattis
saw Trump’s desired withdrawal as an assault on a soldier’s
code. “He began to feel like he was becoming complicit,”
recalled one of the secretary’s confidants. <br>
The media interpretation of Mattis’ resignation letter as a
scathing rebuke of Trump’s worldview brought the president’s
anger to a boiling point. Trump decided to remove Mattis two
months ahead of the secretary’s chosen departure date. His
treatment of Mattis upset the secretary’s staff. They
decided to arrange the biggest clap out they could. The
event was a tradition for all departing secretaries. They
wanted a line of Pentagon personnel that stretched for a
mile applauding Mattis as he left for the last time. It was
going to be “yuge,” staffers joked, borrowing from Trump’s
glossary. <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4">But Mattis would not allow it. “No, we are
not doing that,” he told his aides. “You don’t understand
the president. I work with him. You don’t know him like I
do. He will take it out on Shanahan and Dunford.” <br>
Dunford stayed on until September 2019, retiring at the
conclusion of his four-year term as chairman of the Joint
Chiefs of Staff. One of Dunford’s first public acts after
leaving office was to defend a military officer attacked by
Trump, Army Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Vindman, a National
Security Council official who testified in the House
impeachment inquiry about his worries over Trump’s conduct
with Ukraine. Trump dismissed Vindman as a “Never Trumper,”
but Dunford stepped forward to praise the Purple Heart
recipient as “a professional, competent, patriotic, and
loyal officer. He has made an extraordinary contribution to
the security of our nation.” <br>
<br>
</font></div>
<div><font size="4">By then, however, Trump had become a
president entirely unrestrained. He had replaced his raft of
seasoned advisers with a cast of enablers who executed his
orders and engaged his obsessions. They saw their mission as
telling the president yes. <br>
</font>
<p
style="box-sizing:border-box;color:rgb(51,51,51);font-size:20px;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;margin:0px
0px 1.9rem;padding:0px"><br>
</p>
</div>
</div>
<br>
<fieldset class="mimeAttachmentHeader"></fieldset>
<pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap="">=======================================================
List services made available by First Step Internet,
serving the communities of the Palouse since 1994.
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://www.fsr.net">http://www.fsr.net</a>
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="mailto:Vision2020@moscow.com">mailto:Vision2020@moscow.com</a>
=======================================================</pre>
</blockquote>
</body>
</html>