Prognosis

I used to know when my U.S. House candidate had a lock on November. It was not a gut feeling, just a weird sense like looking down a long hall into the far future. Almost spooky, but these last few years, at least since Reagan, I've lost the vision.

An odd gift at best, and a bit untrustworthy. But were I to venture a guess about this November, I'd say the winners are Grassley (in Iowa), and Democrats nationwide. The sweep might be stupendous, pushing House Republicans down under 40%, while the Senate remains safe for Democrats.

I can't predict Culver vs. Branstad, although the former Governor Braindead has an edge unless old-timers suddenly remember what his last year in office was like. Conlin's race is forgettable and inexplicable, at best. Her loss in November borders on Democratic Party malpractice — she should never have been nominated.

Clinton in Iowa would be a waste of charisma. Go save Harry Reid, Mr. Bill.

Congratulations, Senator Franken!

Ha! Remember back when Lyndon Johnson was called "Landslide Lyndon"? Seems we has a new contender for that title! I haven't read Franken's book(s), but I still remember his whiteboard analysis of how Mike Dukakis could beat the odds and win the 1988 Presidential election after all.

Congratulations, Norm Coleman, for an exemplary concession speech. He represents that wing of the Republican party with whom the actual republic is still safe.

(Rush Limbaugh's piece of the bird is, of course, the middle toenail.)

Senator Grassley redux

The Cedar Rapids Gazette has a column by Todd Dorman urging Senator Grassley (mentioned below, next to the Tweety Bird) to "tweet on" and give us all his Senatorial tics, twitches, itches and pulsing veins raw and indecent.

That's the same as yelling "Take it all off!" to a stripper, and says all you need to know about the press and politics, but Grassley's got more class than that, I think. Maybe.

Duck

Mallard Fillmore this morning was detestably laughable, as contrasted with hilarious. When I was at ISU back in the late Sixties, I knew a few members of the Students for a Democratic Society (the "SDS" Mallard refers to), but that was the joke — a few members. There was never a link between local journalism and national protest; that was the other joke — the nearly impossible struggle to get the Des Moines Register, e.g., to cover student protest, or how to get enough warm student bodies to an anti-war rally to make it worth a reporter's time to show up. (Sort of like "teabagger" rallies... I do sympathize.)

I did once meet a real firebrand radical, Bernadette Devlin, who might have been married to someone as violent as the Weather Underground apparently was — but she was Irish, from Northern Ireland, and had just been elected to the Westminster parliament, where she slapped a British Home Secretary's face for calling the Bogside Massacre "self-defense," if I recall correctly. She was fundraising in the States on a tour that brought her to Des Moines. My memory is a bit hazy, but I seem to recall a fair-sized crowd and Arlo Guthrie-style guitar music — which she despised, having, as a Catholic in Ulster, more in common with Black Panthers in this country than young, privileged, student (or even faculty) war protesters.

My own politics at the time was a bit mixed; I'd read Barry Goldwater's Conscience of a Conservative, and in 1966 I volunteered for the draft but was classified 1-Y (same as 4-F, but if Ho Chi Minh invaded Merle Haye Mall, they'd call me to arms).

Later, still smarting over the 1963 photo of the Vietnamese monk who set himself ablaze, I eventually took a position against the war — in 1971, following the Kent State massacre — although I think no one noticed my input much, besides my own family and a few friends.

Kent State turned me into an angry, activist Democrat.

Eventually, of course, journalism did indeed end the war in Vietnam, when the picture of the naked girl screaming from napalm burns on her back and running ahead of soldiers (South Vietnamese, as it turned out) was published. Even Tom Harkin's tiger cage pictures in Life magazine contributed to revulsion against the war — but aside from a few mossback conservatives and one pistol packing drunk that Harkin staffer Dick Thomas wrestled to the ground (back in the Seventies), no one remembers that as a hugely important moment, unlike this one:

That 1/125th of a second (note the blur in the boy's hand) changed the world. Real capital-J Journalism and War do not mix, which is why I really, really, really appreciate Rachel Maddow and Keith Olbermann these days. Those people have real jobs.

Mallard Fillmore, on the other hand, still can't see it as it is, let alone call it like it was. Yes, veterans are (and were) often disgusted with pictures like these — not because they're shocking, which they are, but because they're commonplace and we "hypocritical war protesters" don't even know it. These images, Mallard's "something or other", sear our consciences, but frankly, we ignored the seared (and smeared, and annealed) psyches of the vets we blithely drafted to drop down the Moloch maw of Vietnam. The bravest veteran I ever saw was a guy at Iowa State, whose name I never knew, who came back from Nam with a red scar stretched over the front and side of his face and jaw; he didn't smile, except with his eyes. He was shockingly cheerful, considering. That sort of gets to you.

So don't compare teabags to napalm, Duck. They're not the same.

With friends like Arlen Specter...

Hoodathunkit? The hard white core of the boil on the Republican Rump is livid about Specter's switch, as revealed by the most perfunctory of visits to FoxSnooze. I'm not sure if they're madder about Specter leaving the Republican party, or Specter flipping off the Pennsylvania right wing lynchmo... er... "primary election."

Lots of Eisenhower democrats out there, evidently. I notice from the byplay at Specter's press conference that he's claiming to have greater seniority (as a turncoat pretending to be a Democrat first elected to the Senate in 1980) than Tom Harkin (a well and proper true blue Democrat first elected to the Senate in 1984).

Also, please note that Specter's first act as a Democrat was to oppose Dawn Johnsen, President Obama's nominee to head the Office of Legal Counsel. Not to mention promising to vote with Republicans on cloture sometimes, if not most of the time — aginnit, i.e.

Specter would probably be more comfortable as an "Independent" with Joe Lieberman in an AIPAC phone booth.

Sarah Palin, Motormouth

RPG'ers know what that means. It doesn't actually connote non-stop, frame-filling BS. It means quick on the draw, able to launch that magic spell faster than normal. That's Palin's advanced Barracuda skill, a kind of full-mouthed, preternaturally fast attack mode with smiling, even teeth. Like a barracuda. Or in fresh waters, a muskellunge, same idea. Full marks for that one.

In other respects, she's a noob. Always will be, perpetually stuck at the lowest levels of unminded evolution, forever unable to learn, mainly because she's impaled herself (like all bony fish) on the sturdy palisades of unnecessary thought.

For example, for her, the past is damaged in essence^† and therefore (four millenia of church history to the contrary) inessential — she can simply wish it away like chalk off a blackboard — because as a true born-again believer, that pentacostal gift of ineffable, unvoiceable grace promised in hours-long sermons every Sunday is, dogonnit, Willy Wonka's Golden Ticket straight to the chocolate vats of Paradise, no efforts required, no regrets and above all, no atonement for collateral damage done. (Catholics — my brand — may have gang aft agley concerning the role of reason and science, in particular the biological sciences these days, but to our eternal credit we've kept Purgatory on the lists of legitimate pause.)

I could go on. For example, Palin isn't "pretty." No, really. What she is, is symmetrical, Perfectly banal from any angle, in other words. Incidentally, I think the reason she couldn't name a newspaper or magazine is probably because she gets her news off the internet, and she couldn't very well say "Google," now, could she? I mean, would you say Goooggull Nyuuuz in polite company? Of course not. Yeah, that's probably it.

But tell me she wasn't jacked up on something! You don't get that kind of pupillary diameter by flirting with old guys you intend to slip a mickey to (*wink*)...

Biden won the debate with pure overt Rope-a-Dope^®. And Palin obliged nicely, as we knew she would. She slew herself with the jawbone of an ass. That Obama guy's a (*beep*)ing genius.

^†What? You didn't immediately think of Original Sin? You haven't been perusing your Gibbon, my friend. (Or Cuppy's Decline either, for that matter.)

October: National Politician Insanity Month

Be kind to your candidate this month. These are the days that drive sane men and women mad — or, as a Jimmy Carter-era bigwig once said in my earshot, the time that a candidate's body chemistry goes out of whack and makes them stink. (No joke, I've noticed.)

Frankly, by now, if you're not already in place to win on Election Day, you're going to lose. The con artists have shot their wads. The dead have duly risen from the grave and found their angelic places among the precinct choirs, the winners are chewing up the scenery and the losers are eating their young alive.

The losers are, in fact, counting the hours till their tenures expire and their jail terms begin. The bloodied veterans of backroom administration brawls are applying merthiolate to their scars and tightening up their stitches — any bets Colin Powell won't get Secretary of Defense?

I'm frenzied out...

Time for a little gaming! My 14yo tells me the three most popular Final Fantasy games are VII, IX and XII. Having played XII to the end, I can well believe it. And IX is already mindblowing, and I've scarcely gotten to the Oglop Regent's throne. Haven't played VII yet, but maybe — down the road.

Oh, yeah. My absentee ballot came in the mail today, so I filled that in and sent it back. I voted early. For Joe Biden and Barack Obama, my first and third choices.

Early voting (post flood) in Cedar Rapids, Iowa

The Linn County Auditor's Office has moved out to Westdale Mall because of damage from the flood this Spring. The earliest anyone can cast an absentee ballot is this Thursday, September 25.

Today is the first day of Autumn, 2008! Can November 4th be far behind? A season of beautiful distractions even in full partisan howl — the Cubs are going to be in the World Series, college football is in full flourish, Michelle Wie has breezed through the first half of LPGA Q School like the champion she is, cardigans are back, and the good movies come out from now through New Year's — the summer silly season is over.

Where's the pork?

McCain's campaign has sunk to the damn lies^† level, which means (as we already knew) he's sold his soul to the filthy demon K'Arlroav'Abub. Gee, and I thought the Whore of Babylon was a woman. It's just a sick old man with one last party in his pants.

^†Say wha...?

Sarah Palin's Massive Expense Padding

"Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin billed taxpayers for 312 nights spent in her own home during her first 19 months in office, charging a "per diem" allowance intended to cover expenses while traveling on state business." — MSNBC

(Check out the writhing jaw muscle. This broad has a barely concealable temper, which means she can be goaded into self-imploding during a debate.)

Smokin'

The Man in the Ruby Slippers

Ultimately, of course, aside from the irreparable damage she's done to Alaska, Sarah Palin is just Dogmeat and John McCain is just the Man in the Ruby Slippers. Feed the frenzy, Sarah. What else have you done to damn yourself to the footnotes of history?

McCain looks every inch the proud bomber pilot, I'll have to admit. With any luck at all, he'll outrun the firestorm before it engulfs him. But John McCain has never been lucky. My guess is, he'll be shot down by friendly fire from his own right flank.

Clap, America! Clap, if you'd like to send them both home...

Quickstruttin' on the GOP Cinderella Runway

Palin watching is not really my cup of radioactive albatross bile, but I thought it was interesting that the Associated Press described her script last night as smiling and sarcastic. I read a few quotes. Hmm...

Actually, there's more McCain Steam than Barracuda, there. Her handlers seem to be squeezing her, stepsister-like, into Newt Gingerich's crystal combat loafers — but seen from a distance, the pretty picture is just another hastily-drawn, stinkbomb lobbing back bencher who can't keep her own house in order, who joins the hunt under indictment. Cute.

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Unrelated addenda:


To paraphrase Barry Goldwater, "Sarah has been clocked at 275 words a minute with gusts up to 340."

Barry Goldwater was a friend of mine, in the restrained and subdued sense that I enjoyed his P.O.V., and I used to keep a copy of Conscience of a Conservative (by no means confusing that term with "neo-conservative") on the back of my toilet tank for light reading in moments of quiet reflection.

That's the difference between Democrats and Sarah Palin. We love books and recycle effluents. By most accounts, Palin loves influence and recycles librarians. As Mayor of Wasilla, AK, she tried to flush the career of Mary Ellen Emmons, the courageous City Librarian at Wasilla's tiny public library. Emmons was "insubordinate," because she dared to resist Palin's plans to ban library books on religious grounds.

Science News: Obama Likes Research

Science News reports that Obama favors non-ideological, transparent science in his morning cuppa Deciderizing.

Sarah Barracuda: Ready on October 2nd

Republican hopeful John McCain, flushed with excitement from the agonies of Mile High Stadium in Denver, has just dumped his Number Two on unsuspecting American voters everywhere, first term Republican governor of Alaska, pro-life journalist and runnerup in the 1984 Miss Alaska pageant, Sarah Palin, spelled B-A-R-R-A-C-U-D-A, what a relief!

You thought Ferraro, right? Or Dan Quayle? Wise up. This cookie is tough. She was picked for one reason, and one reason only — to sandbag^† Joe Biden in the first and only Vice Presidential debate in St. Louis on October 2.

^†A technical term. Technically, it means "can't get a word in edgewise," as practised by the standard female Republican motormouth who fills all the time available for a response to moderator's question, from now to commercial break, with non-stop talkover, presuming that elderly male Democrats are well brought up and would never ever interrupt a woman not that it matters^‡....

The first time I saw this tactic answered correctly was a few years ago on CNN, when Patricia Schroeder returned fire on a GOP shrill the entire world has thankfully forgotten.

I give McCain credit for military tactics. He saw a weakness in Biden long ago, maybe a tendency to get rattled when debating women, and now he's going to hit him with sexual politics. Sarah Barracuda is no Geraldine Ferraro, and Gwen Ifill had better be on her game!

^‡McCain Steam claims "foreign policy experience" for Palin because, and I'm not making this up, "Alaska is next to Russia." Unfortunately, considering the average American's grip on geography, that's good enuff.

Susan Eisenhower at the Democratic Convention

The first president I ever voted for was Dwight D. Eisenhower. I liked Ike in the third grade straw poll in 1952 at Overland Park, Kansas. So seeing Susan Eisenhower, his granddaughter, speak at the Democratic Convention last night struck me as one of the more significant of the evening's minor moments.

Kansas will always be my home, so seeing that tall Kansas girl with the Eisenhower name and the strong Republican credentials give her testimony for Barack Obama really impressed me. So she's an Independent now. Fascinating.

What a challenge for the Democratic Party to find room in the tent for all of us dispossessed former Republican moderates!

Self-reverential

Night of the long knives at the Democratic Convention — Hillary Clinton asked her supporters, "Did you vote for me? Or did you vote for that bald headed woman?" She probably came as close as she ever will to falling on her sword for party unity.

Bill speaks tonight. Jimmy Carter's words may have been illuminating. Al Gore's message could have been a real podium pounder. Bill Clinton can be a study in contrasts. Where were we eight years ago, so close to the promised land? Where are we right now, after eight long years of wandering in the Republican wilderness? Bill's the celeb, not Barack. And as Michelle Wie noted some months ago, when she gave him that big personal check for Katrina victims, the best wood in Bill Clinton's golf bag is his pencil.

McCain does an ironic disservice to his own chances by incessantly reminding us TV rabbits what a celebrity Barack Obama is. Great things happen around the great man. Of course, then, Barack is great.

VIETNAM VET DOWN ON LUCK GOT ANY SPARE CHANGE?

And those P.O.W. pictures from the Hanoi Hilton? Makes you seem like a panhandler, John, showing off oozing wounds on your own tilted forehead for an ounce of pity.

Joe Biden gots Shpadoinkle

The Huffington Post dropped that unusual vocable on us (apparently John McCain is losing his), but I gots no idea what means it. Does Yoda have shpadoinkle? Does Obama? Jest going by context, I'd say Joe Biden gots it large.

Update: Watched the Springfield debut this afternoon. An atmosphere thick with expectation.

More bees...

Five Ways to Help Our Disappearing Bees is another green website with helpful ways to (hopefully) combat CCD.

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What's with Obama? Labor Day is TEN DAYS AWAY, but he's still giving his old primary election stump speech! It's embarassing. I declared for Joe Biden back in the January caucus, but I'd understand if Joe doesn't want to go down with Obama's toy boat.