Thanksgiving edition |
GOOD NEWS CAN produce the same disabling shock as tragic news. I stomped around the living room, babbling: “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.” Ben, the cat, looked at me as if that proved what he'd always suspected: I was a fool. It was a mix of wonder, disbelief and joy; a destabilizing cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins, stirred, then shaken, and stirred again. Rhode Island had not let down America. Our strange, tiny, sometimes brave, always environmentally stunning, our former Mafia |
headquarters-by-the-sea, had not allowed one of its two Congressional seats turn from Blue to Red.
Indeed, that was our message when Young and I - plus our pal, Jody McPhillips, a star writer when we were reporting to Young – had gone from door to door to door:
“Your ONE vote can Keep Two Blue.”
Because the race might be that close – polls be damned - sending Seth south to Washington might make the difference in the sharply divided Congress, keeping the entire House of Representatives Blue.
“Just ONE vote.” We believed it, deeply.
The stakes were impossibly high. Not just some Red Shirts vs. Blue Shirts intramural political pickup game: this was democracy itself on the line. Donald Trump had trashed the whole concept of self-government. His barbarians had overrun the Capitol, hoping to cancel the election and, if they got the chance along the way, hoping to murder a vice president and speaker of the House. Trump's forces, and those of his successors, were still at it.
The future of the United States was at stake.
And just ONE vote – “your vote” – could make the difference.
THAT WAS WHAT DROVE us to keep asking for assignments from the campaign. We were not a pretty sight, aging journalists, no longer connected to their media megaphone, limping along sidewalks and streets, candidates not for election, but for replacement of hips, knees and joints that we’d never heard of, seeking votes, one vote at a time – just ONE.
Most people didn’t answer their doorbells – in some cases, that was because they didn’t have doorbells, just holes in doorjambs with wires dangling out of them. Some people were home and pretended they weren’t. Or that they didn’t hear the bells, although their dogs sure did, barking at the windows and pounding frantically on the glass with their claws and paws.
Some people actually answered our knocks and rings. Bless them. In the early days, some weren’t aware there was an election; or they assured us they were voting for “Jim” – as in Jim Langevin, the courageous, wheelchair-bound, Democrat,who’d held the post for 22 years but now was retiring.
Some people vowed they'd never vote. “All politicians are alike,” and not in a good way, they told us.
“They’re a bunch of cheats. Everyone is a liar. The 'system' was/is unfair." And they meant it, too, as if they had personally been betrayed, one-on-one, by an actual office-holder. A few had voted for Biden and now regretted it. "Look at what he's done to the schools," one man said.
The campaign’s strategy was to send us to voters who might have registered or voted in the past as Democrats, but were now “iffy” as to whether they would vote this time, or, if they did, for the wrong reason or person. Everywhere there were lawn signs of the Republican candidate for governor, as well as for Magaziner’s opponent.
Rhode Island is not just a small state, it’s almost a small town, and we sometimes canvassed in Fung’s home-base, Cranston, the city where he’d been a popular mayor for a dozen years; or we'd go door-to-door in Cranston's big neighbor, known to air travelers as PVD – the Providence airport that’s actually called Warwick.
Many in both of those voter-rich cities liked Fung, and one guy claimed to know him personally. “Oh yeah?” I challenged him, as if I were still a reporter, “How do you know him?” The guy answered kindly, as if he understood he was about to make a sad announcement: “I cut his grass.”
The final weeks seemed like the best of summer, not chilly, rainy late-October/ early November. There were warm, sun-soaked leafs on the ground or still on the trees, painting Rhode Island in gentle orange-yellow-brown pastels. People were out and about and some were talkative.
One woman told me she was 99, as she determinedly swept a blanket of leaves with a rake as big as she was. She proudly pointed to a robust spruce tree that she had planted years as a twig, and now had grown into one of her life’s accomplishments.
“I already voted,” she said. I asked for whom. “Well, at my age, I don’t remember.” She asked me about a candidate’s sign on a neighbor's lawn: “Who’s that for?” “The Republican candidate for mayor,” I said. “Oh, a Republican? I don’t like that.”
I wore a “Seth” T-shirt on the theory that was maybe my real contribution: as a walking Magaziner billboard. Sometimes that brought a horn honk and a thumbs-up from a motorist. One bike rider, as he whizzed by, muttered: “Scumbag.”
Indeed, that was our message when Young and I - plus our pal, Jody McPhillips, a star writer when we were reporting to Young – had gone from door to door to door:
“Your ONE vote can Keep Two Blue.”
Because the race might be that close – polls be damned - sending Seth south to Washington might make the difference in the sharply divided Congress, keeping the entire House of Representatives Blue.
“Just ONE vote.” We believed it, deeply.
The stakes were impossibly high. Not just some Red Shirts vs. Blue Shirts intramural political pickup game: this was democracy itself on the line. Donald Trump had trashed the whole concept of self-government. His barbarians had overrun the Capitol, hoping to cancel the election and, if they got the chance along the way, hoping to murder a vice president and speaker of the House. Trump's forces, and those of his successors, were still at it.
The future of the United States was at stake.
And just ONE vote – “your vote” – could make the difference.
THAT WAS WHAT DROVE us to keep asking for assignments from the campaign. We were not a pretty sight, aging journalists, no longer connected to their media megaphone, limping along sidewalks and streets, candidates not for election, but for replacement of hips, knees and joints that we’d never heard of, seeking votes, one vote at a time – just ONE.
Most people didn’t answer their doorbells – in some cases, that was because they didn’t have doorbells, just holes in doorjambs with wires dangling out of them. Some people were home and pretended they weren’t. Or that they didn’t hear the bells, although their dogs sure did, barking at the windows and pounding frantically on the glass with their claws and paws.
Some people actually answered our knocks and rings. Bless them. In the early days, some weren’t aware there was an election; or they assured us they were voting for “Jim” – as in Jim Langevin, the courageous, wheelchair-bound, Democrat,who’d held the post for 22 years but now was retiring.
Some people vowed they'd never vote. “All politicians are alike,” and not in a good way, they told us.
“They’re a bunch of cheats. Everyone is a liar. The 'system' was/is unfair." And they meant it, too, as if they had personally been betrayed, one-on-one, by an actual office-holder. A few had voted for Biden and now regretted it. "Look at what he's done to the schools," one man said.
The campaign’s strategy was to send us to voters who might have registered or voted in the past as Democrats, but were now “iffy” as to whether they would vote this time, or, if they did, for the wrong reason or person. Everywhere there were lawn signs of the Republican candidate for governor, as well as for Magaziner’s opponent.
Rhode Island is not just a small state, it’s almost a small town, and we sometimes canvassed in Fung’s home-base, Cranston, the city where he’d been a popular mayor for a dozen years; or we'd go door-to-door in Cranston's big neighbor, known to air travelers as PVD – the Providence airport that’s actually called Warwick.
Many in both of those voter-rich cities liked Fung, and one guy claimed to know him personally. “Oh yeah?” I challenged him, as if I were still a reporter, “How do you know him?” The guy answered kindly, as if he understood he was about to make a sad announcement: “I cut his grass.”
The final weeks seemed like the best of summer, not chilly, rainy late-October/ early November. There were warm, sun-soaked leafs on the ground or still on the trees, painting Rhode Island in gentle orange-yellow-brown pastels. People were out and about and some were talkative.
One woman told me she was 99, as she determinedly swept a blanket of leaves with a rake as big as she was. She proudly pointed to a robust spruce tree that she had planted years as a twig, and now had grown into one of her life’s accomplishments.
“I already voted,” she said. I asked for whom. “Well, at my age, I don’t remember.” She asked me about a candidate’s sign on a neighbor's lawn: “Who’s that for?” “The Republican candidate for mayor,” I said. “Oh, a Republican? I don’t like that.”
I wore a “Seth” T-shirt on the theory that was maybe my real contribution: as a walking Magaziner billboard. Sometimes that brought a horn honk and a thumbs-up from a motorist. One bike rider, as he whizzed by, muttered: “Scumbag.”
BECAUSE RHODE ISLAND IS SO SMALL – you can drive end-to-end in about an hour, even on the state’s notoriously chewed up roads, you’d think that the door-to-door stuff was simple, and you could meet at least half of the state's one-million residents on any afternoon.
Nope. Even a small state is a lot of territory to cover. It’s possible we visited 300 “doors,” as the campaign’s jargon called its curated addresses on its “turf” lists, possibly a few more than that.Whatever the total, we talked to just a fraction, and at best convinced maybe 15 to vote, and just a few to do so for “our” guy.
I actually thought our impact was minuscule and actually pathetic. But, we all agreed it was better than sitting home, listening to the pundits and prognosticators, doomsayers, sneering at the Democrats, whipping up images of the Red Wave rolling over the Ocean State.
We kept each other’s spirits up, even after the campaign was over. McPhillips, who put in a long Election Night as an official Providence city poll worker, emailed me the day after:
“My personal belief is that Fung would have triumphed had you not knocked on every (word used in newsrooms, but never printed) door in the 2nd district. Well done!”
Absolutely untrue. The campaign’s software indicated that McPhillips went to more “doors” than I did. And if you add in those that Young visited, and the extra ones she insisted we try, as if she were still handing out reporting assignments, I was always outmatched.
But we weren’t alone.
I don’t know how big a staff and volunteer force Magaziner jsf fielded. In the end, he ran a combined campaign with Gov. Dan McKee (who won big), and Magaziner had huge labor union support – his campaign chief was the daughter of a top AFL-CIO official, and one of his field offices was in a Carpenters Union hall.
I met a friend who was a veteran of progressive causes, and who lived in the same section of Cranston where I was assigned one day. She told me how she personally was organizing that neighborhood, canvassing day after day and planning a big push the day before, and the day of, the election.
And there were telltale clues that some of our assigned territories had already been visited : Seth campaign cards stuffed into door jams, faded and lying on welcome mats.
It’s possible that scores, maybe hundreds of individual and team efforts built up; and as the polls were showing Fung ahead, more and more people became as driven as we were to do their part, so that all of these combined into a critical mass that virtually willed Rhode Island not let America down.
Maybe the TV debates helped. Magaziner, state treasurer for seven years, got stronger and stronger with each one. Maybe Rhode Island Democrats tolerated Fung as a small city Republican mayor, but would not like to have a Republican in Congress. Maybe Rhode Island was just too Blue, even for a well-liked Republican.
Nobody really, actually could explain it.
But this I know, for sure.
Election Night was magical. But it was just one night, just one election.
The U.S. has become a country where every election is a desperate, do-or-die event, with democracy always on a cliff's edge. It never ends.
As much, or as little, that we can all do, we cannot rest, because it will never be over. That is what Donald Trump and his thugs have done to our democracy, one that we can never take for granted.
Victories don’t last.
There will never be a time, not in our lifetimes, when we can hang up our Magaziner T-shirts.
Nope. Even a small state is a lot of territory to cover. It’s possible we visited 300 “doors,” as the campaign’s jargon called its curated addresses on its “turf” lists, possibly a few more than that.Whatever the total, we talked to just a fraction, and at best convinced maybe 15 to vote, and just a few to do so for “our” guy.
I actually thought our impact was minuscule and actually pathetic. But, we all agreed it was better than sitting home, listening to the pundits and prognosticators, doomsayers, sneering at the Democrats, whipping up images of the Red Wave rolling over the Ocean State.
We kept each other’s spirits up, even after the campaign was over. McPhillips, who put in a long Election Night as an official Providence city poll worker, emailed me the day after:
“My personal belief is that Fung would have triumphed had you not knocked on every (word used in newsrooms, but never printed) door in the 2nd district. Well done!”
Absolutely untrue. The campaign’s software indicated that McPhillips went to more “doors” than I did. And if you add in those that Young visited, and the extra ones she insisted we try, as if she were still handing out reporting assignments, I was always outmatched.
But we weren’t alone.
I don’t know how big a staff and volunteer force Magaziner jsf fielded. In the end, he ran a combined campaign with Gov. Dan McKee (who won big), and Magaziner had huge labor union support – his campaign chief was the daughter of a top AFL-CIO official, and one of his field offices was in a Carpenters Union hall.
I met a friend who was a veteran of progressive causes, and who lived in the same section of Cranston where I was assigned one day. She told me how she personally was organizing that neighborhood, canvassing day after day and planning a big push the day before, and the day of, the election.
And there were telltale clues that some of our assigned territories had already been visited : Seth campaign cards stuffed into door jams, faded and lying on welcome mats.
It’s possible that scores, maybe hundreds of individual and team efforts built up; and as the polls were showing Fung ahead, more and more people became as driven as we were to do their part, so that all of these combined into a critical mass that virtually willed Rhode Island not let America down.
Maybe the TV debates helped. Magaziner, state treasurer for seven years, got stronger and stronger with each one. Maybe Rhode Island Democrats tolerated Fung as a small city Republican mayor, but would not like to have a Republican in Congress. Maybe Rhode Island was just too Blue, even for a well-liked Republican.
Nobody really, actually could explain it.
But this I know, for sure.
Election Night was magical. But it was just one night, just one election.
The U.S. has become a country where every election is a desperate, do-or-die event, with democracy always on a cliff's edge. It never ends.
As much, or as little, that we can all do, we cannot rest, because it will never be over. That is what Donald Trump and his thugs have done to our democracy, one that we can never take for granted.
Victories don’t last.
There will never be a time, not in our lifetimes, when we can hang up our Magaziner T-shirts.
AS ELECTION DAY NEARS, A KEY CONTEST IS FEAR VERSUS HOPE
I’M REALLY AFRAID.
Actually, afraid doesn’t really describe it. I’m terrified, frightened, heart-stoppingly, stomach-churning scared stupid at the prospect of the nightmare that will occur if Republicans win next week.
If the they take over one branch of Congress or both, if they win election-controlling posts in the states, then our fragile democracy may be on its way to ruin.
Which is not to say the GOP will win on Nov. 8.
I’d like to believe that enough Americans care about their country, and understand the horror that malevolent governments bring about in other places of the world, voters won’t let that happen to the United States of America.
Most people I’ve met in my 80-plus years are, at their core, nice.
They help out in homeless shelters; contribute to fund-raising campaigns for sick children. They care about their children. They coach their kids’ teams, go into hawk for their college educations, buy them cars. Some jump onto subway tracks to rescue people who have fallen off. Others volunteer to fight in Ukraine. Lots of people adopt dogs facing death in over-filled kennels.
There are just millions upon millions of people who want to make their country better, and a lot of them are voting right now and will turn out next Tuesday.
As to the other half of America, I’m at a loss to understand why they are devoted to Donald Trump and his attempt to overthrow the last election; why they demonize children struggling with gender identity; why they don’t want other people to have medical care, homes, good educations; why they want to ban books in school libraries; why they make fun of an 82-year-old man who’s had his skull hammered just because he’s Mr. Pelosi.
So, with the 2022 election only days, really just hours, away, I’m an emotional wreck.
I WONDER HOW PEOPLE who already are in desperate situations cope – the people who are in Ukraine, fighting off the Russian invaders; people who don’t have food; people already facing the devastation of climate change, their homes destroyed by fire and floods; people who already are seeing their reservoirs go dry; people who’ve already lost their children to bullets on city streets and in small town classrooms.
One way that I’m trying to cope with election anxiety is not to predict the election or listen to other people’s predictions, until the votes are counted.
I’m doing a few small things that I’m not sure will make a difference, but that at least might, theoretically, possibly. My wife and I wrote 355 letters for the Vote Forward campaign, which asked volunteers write brief, non-partisan messages simply asking folks to vote, without suggesting whom or what party to vote for.
I’ve been canvassing for the Democratic candidate, Seth Magaziner, who’s the Democratic candidate for the Rhode Island’s open Congressional seat. Most people I visit aren’t home or not answering the door; some have lost faith in the “system” and aren’t voting; a few have voted already; some won’t say who for, which probably means they’re voting for Seth’s Republican opponent.
These are very, very limited things, these steps. My Vote Forward letters were hand-written, which means in my case, they were hand-scrawled-printed in a barely readable script you’d expect to find in a ransom note. It’ll be a surprise if many recipients open them and a miracle if even one goes to the polls as a result.
I have friends who are doing the very same things.
ONE THING I'M NOT DOING in these final seconds leading up to Nov. 8 – and I am a journalist by trade – I am not following the news, listening to NPR, watching TV news, hardly glancing at the two newspapers that land on our bushes or those that show up online; I'm not tuning into the liberal cable network,MSNBC or downloading political podcasts
Our house is in a news blackout.
Because I don’t want to hear that the polls aren’t looking good or that they are; don't want to hear that the Democrats have botched messaging; that the trends are terrible or terrific; that history of midterms disfavors the “party in power,” that Joe Biden’s favorability numbers are a drag on the rest of the Democrats or what the shocking results of the latest focus group of barely interested voters are telling us - or not.
I know the reporters and the analysts and the pundits have to write and talk about something, and that many of them are doing their best to provide a running account of where things stand. But right now, they don’t really know – not absolutely – what’s going to happen.
I’m not letting anyone take away my hope.
I know that underdogs win in politics as well as in sports. I know if I get discouraged, depressed, and down in the dumps, I’ll give up on carrying out the little, but actual, things I can do before election day, things that may influence the outcome in a close race.
I need to keep focused on working, on winning, because I’ll despise myself, looking back, if I don’t do the little I can because I gave up too early, and I got talked out of hope. I happen to live in a tiny, terrific state whose motto is “Hope;” it’s right there on on the Rhode Island state flag.
I know that if “we” lose on election day, that the fight for democracy will not be over, because the evil forces that are at work today will be still at it tomorrow. I know that if “we” lose the election, that the fight for democracy must continue; it will be just that much harder.
So, until the long-anticipated Nov. 8 that’s now just seconds away, I’m listening to music, watching mysteries on TV and ringing door bells -- hoping at least one person will answer and agree that their vote counts.
Actually, afraid doesn’t really describe it. I’m terrified, frightened, heart-stoppingly, stomach-churning scared stupid at the prospect of the nightmare that will occur if Republicans win next week.
If the they take over one branch of Congress or both, if they win election-controlling posts in the states, then our fragile democracy may be on its way to ruin.
Which is not to say the GOP will win on Nov. 8.
I’d like to believe that enough Americans care about their country, and understand the horror that malevolent governments bring about in other places of the world, voters won’t let that happen to the United States of America.
Most people I’ve met in my 80-plus years are, at their core, nice.
They help out in homeless shelters; contribute to fund-raising campaigns for sick children. They care about their children. They coach their kids’ teams, go into hawk for their college educations, buy them cars. Some jump onto subway tracks to rescue people who have fallen off. Others volunteer to fight in Ukraine. Lots of people adopt dogs facing death in over-filled kennels.
There are just millions upon millions of people who want to make their country better, and a lot of them are voting right now and will turn out next Tuesday.
As to the other half of America, I’m at a loss to understand why they are devoted to Donald Trump and his attempt to overthrow the last election; why they demonize children struggling with gender identity; why they don’t want other people to have medical care, homes, good educations; why they want to ban books in school libraries; why they make fun of an 82-year-old man who’s had his skull hammered just because he’s Mr. Pelosi.
So, with the 2022 election only days, really just hours, away, I’m an emotional wreck.
I WONDER HOW PEOPLE who already are in desperate situations cope – the people who are in Ukraine, fighting off the Russian invaders; people who don’t have food; people already facing the devastation of climate change, their homes destroyed by fire and floods; people who already are seeing their reservoirs go dry; people who’ve already lost their children to bullets on city streets and in small town classrooms.
One way that I’m trying to cope with election anxiety is not to predict the election or listen to other people’s predictions, until the votes are counted.
I’m doing a few small things that I’m not sure will make a difference, but that at least might, theoretically, possibly. My wife and I wrote 355 letters for the Vote Forward campaign, which asked volunteers write brief, non-partisan messages simply asking folks to vote, without suggesting whom or what party to vote for.
I’ve been canvassing for the Democratic candidate, Seth Magaziner, who’s the Democratic candidate for the Rhode Island’s open Congressional seat. Most people I visit aren’t home or not answering the door; some have lost faith in the “system” and aren’t voting; a few have voted already; some won’t say who for, which probably means they’re voting for Seth’s Republican opponent.
These are very, very limited things, these steps. My Vote Forward letters were hand-written, which means in my case, they were hand-scrawled-printed in a barely readable script you’d expect to find in a ransom note. It’ll be a surprise if many recipients open them and a miracle if even one goes to the polls as a result.
I have friends who are doing the very same things.
ONE THING I'M NOT DOING in these final seconds leading up to Nov. 8 – and I am a journalist by trade – I am not following the news, listening to NPR, watching TV news, hardly glancing at the two newspapers that land on our bushes or those that show up online; I'm not tuning into the liberal cable network,MSNBC or downloading political podcasts
Our house is in a news blackout.
Because I don’t want to hear that the polls aren’t looking good or that they are; don't want to hear that the Democrats have botched messaging; that the trends are terrible or terrific; that history of midterms disfavors the “party in power,” that Joe Biden’s favorability numbers are a drag on the rest of the Democrats or what the shocking results of the latest focus group of barely interested voters are telling us - or not.
I know the reporters and the analysts and the pundits have to write and talk about something, and that many of them are doing their best to provide a running account of where things stand. But right now, they don’t really know – not absolutely – what’s going to happen.
I’m not letting anyone take away my hope.
I know that underdogs win in politics as well as in sports. I know if I get discouraged, depressed, and down in the dumps, I’ll give up on carrying out the little, but actual, things I can do before election day, things that may influence the outcome in a close race.
I need to keep focused on working, on winning, because I’ll despise myself, looking back, if I don’t do the little I can because I gave up too early, and I got talked out of hope. I happen to live in a tiny, terrific state whose motto is “Hope;” it’s right there on on the Rhode Island state flag.
I know that if “we” lose on election day, that the fight for democracy will not be over, because the evil forces that are at work today will be still at it tomorrow. I know that if “we” lose the election, that the fight for democracy must continue; it will be just that much harder.
So, until the long-anticipated Nov. 8 that’s now just seconds away, I’m listening to music, watching mysteries on TV and ringing door bells -- hoping at least one person will answer and agree that their vote counts.
IN R.I., A 'NICE GUY' ADOPTS
THE GOP’S ‘BAD-NANCY’ CARD
A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO, I was watching a TV debate in a crucial Congressional race that could determine control of the House of Representatives – and I was getting increasingly upset the way that the Republican candidate kept bringing up Nancy Pelosi’s name.
Allan Fung, the Republican and a former mayor of Cranston, Rhode Island, repeatedly attacked his Democratic opponent, Seth Magaziner, who’s the state's treasurer, for supporting President Joe Biden and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and their “policies” which Fung blamed for high inflation.
“... (Magaziner is) doubling down and supporting these same economic policies that our failed President, as well as Speaker Nancy Pelosi, had been forcing onto this economy that’s costing us at the gas pumps, at the grocery stores,” Fung said early in the debate.
He made the same kind of references five more times in the 57-minute forum on Oct. 18, pairing Biden and Pelosi as twin ghoulish forces, altering his wording only slightly, as if he were riffing off a talking-points sheet.
I ended up yelling at the TV, imploring Magaziner to face Fung and berate him for his demeaning tone, commanding Fung to show some respect for Pelosi, for her historic role as a political pioneer as the first woman Speaker of the House, and perhaps the chamber’s all-time most effective leader. And remind him that Pelosi has put all women (and men) in her debt by fighting successfully for equal rights.
“Seth,” I bellowed at the wide-screen, “tell him to show some respect.”
“Tell Fung that Nancy Pelosi is American icon. And to stop his sneering and his vilifying innuendo that she’s some sort of blot on the country. She’s principled, accomplished and courageous, and it’s time that you and your Republican cronies stopped your robotic attacks against this astonishing, heroic woman.”
Then, last Friday, Oct. 28, Pelosi’s longtime role as a Republican villain came into sharper focus, with the hammer attack on her 82-year-old husband, Paul, by an intruder into their San Francisco home, carrying kidnapping paraphernalia, such as zip ties and a roll of tape, demanding to know where “Nancy” was.
It was the second time that a demand for “Nancy” had been used in a violent, criminal political assault, the first being when Donald Trump’s barbarian-rioters stormed the Capitol, with insurrection – and murder – on their minds.
The Halloween-day edition of New York Times made that point, but more, eloquently than I can, in a detailed piece that said one research group has estimated that since 2018, Republicans have featured Pelosi in nearly 530,000 attack ads costing $227 million.
“For the better part of two decades, Republicans have targeted Ms. Pelosi, the most powerful woman in American politics, as the most sinister Democratic villain of all, making her the evil star of their advertisements and fund-raising appeals in hopes of animating their core supporters,” the Times story said. It added that: “Ms. Pelosi is now one of the most threatened members of Congress in the country.”
Allan Fung, the Republican and a former mayor of Cranston, Rhode Island, repeatedly attacked his Democratic opponent, Seth Magaziner, who’s the state's treasurer, for supporting President Joe Biden and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and their “policies” which Fung blamed for high inflation.
“... (Magaziner is) doubling down and supporting these same economic policies that our failed President, as well as Speaker Nancy Pelosi, had been forcing onto this economy that’s costing us at the gas pumps, at the grocery stores,” Fung said early in the debate.
He made the same kind of references five more times in the 57-minute forum on Oct. 18, pairing Biden and Pelosi as twin ghoulish forces, altering his wording only slightly, as if he were riffing off a talking-points sheet.
I ended up yelling at the TV, imploring Magaziner to face Fung and berate him for his demeaning tone, commanding Fung to show some respect for Pelosi, for her historic role as a political pioneer as the first woman Speaker of the House, and perhaps the chamber’s all-time most effective leader. And remind him that Pelosi has put all women (and men) in her debt by fighting successfully for equal rights.
“Seth,” I bellowed at the wide-screen, “tell him to show some respect.”
“Tell Fung that Nancy Pelosi is American icon. And to stop his sneering and his vilifying innuendo that she’s some sort of blot on the country. She’s principled, accomplished and courageous, and it’s time that you and your Republican cronies stopped your robotic attacks against this astonishing, heroic woman.”
Then, last Friday, Oct. 28, Pelosi’s longtime role as a Republican villain came into sharper focus, with the hammer attack on her 82-year-old husband, Paul, by an intruder into their San Francisco home, carrying kidnapping paraphernalia, such as zip ties and a roll of tape, demanding to know where “Nancy” was.
It was the second time that a demand for “Nancy” had been used in a violent, criminal political assault, the first being when Donald Trump’s barbarian-rioters stormed the Capitol, with insurrection – and murder – on their minds.
The Halloween-day edition of New York Times made that point, but more, eloquently than I can, in a detailed piece that said one research group has estimated that since 2018, Republicans have featured Pelosi in nearly 530,000 attack ads costing $227 million.
“For the better part of two decades, Republicans have targeted Ms. Pelosi, the most powerful woman in American politics, as the most sinister Democratic villain of all, making her the evil star of their advertisements and fund-raising appeals in hopes of animating their core supporters,” the Times story said. It added that: “Ms. Pelosi is now one of the most threatened members of Congress in the country.”
LET’S RETURN to the Rhode Island TV debate.
Allan Fung did NOT directly demonize Nancy Pelosi, at least in so many words.
He did not suggest, as has the notorious Georgia Republican Congresswoman, Marjorie Taylor Greene, that Pelosi is “guilty of treason,” a crime that Greene said is “punishable by death.” Fung did not say Pelosi is the head of a Democratic pedophilia ring, or that she actually choreographed the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol.
Instead, he simply paired Biden and Pelosi as Democrat misfits. He did not mention other “notorious” Democrats, like Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, former President Barack Obama or even the other favorite GOP punching bag, Hillary Clinton.
He didn’t have to say more. The national Republicans had done his dirty work for him. Just say those two hateful words, “Nancy Pelosi,” and we all know who and what they are talking about.
Someone can argue – but I won’t – that it was fair for Fung to bring up Pelosi’s name in the debate since he is running for Congress and, if elected, he will have a vote in picking the leader of the House of Representatives.
And someone also can argue – but I won’t – that during the same debate, Fung’s opponent, Seth Magaziner, repeatedly attacked policies supported by Rep. Kevin McCarthy, the California Republican who is the House minority leader and the Speaker-in-waiting, should Republicans take over the closely divided House.
Because we’re not talking about disagreements between honorable opponents. Even the hammer that bashed in Paul Pelosi’s skull ought to know that. Allan Fung was borrowing from a Republican script developed by the party’s notorious message machine.
Which brings me to a question that many Rhode Islanders are asking with the midterm elections just a week away: why not turn over a House seat, long held by a retiring Democratic Rep. Jim Langevin, to Allan Fung, who happens to be a Republican?
Because Fung is indisputably a “nice guy.” He’s indisputably a moderate Republican. He says Joe Biden won the election. He’s for immigration reform. Against use of nuclear weapons. Couldn’t we use more of those kind of “nice” Republicans in Washington?
The Answer: no.
Absolutely, no.
Allan Fung did NOT directly demonize Nancy Pelosi, at least in so many words.
He did not suggest, as has the notorious Georgia Republican Congresswoman, Marjorie Taylor Greene, that Pelosi is “guilty of treason,” a crime that Greene said is “punishable by death.” Fung did not say Pelosi is the head of a Democratic pedophilia ring, or that she actually choreographed the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol.
Instead, he simply paired Biden and Pelosi as Democrat misfits. He did not mention other “notorious” Democrats, like Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, former President Barack Obama or even the other favorite GOP punching bag, Hillary Clinton.
He didn’t have to say more. The national Republicans had done his dirty work for him. Just say those two hateful words, “Nancy Pelosi,” and we all know who and what they are talking about.
Someone can argue – but I won’t – that it was fair for Fung to bring up Pelosi’s name in the debate since he is running for Congress and, if elected, he will have a vote in picking the leader of the House of Representatives.
And someone also can argue – but I won’t – that during the same debate, Fung’s opponent, Seth Magaziner, repeatedly attacked policies supported by Rep. Kevin McCarthy, the California Republican who is the House minority leader and the Speaker-in-waiting, should Republicans take over the closely divided House.
Because we’re not talking about disagreements between honorable opponents. Even the hammer that bashed in Paul Pelosi’s skull ought to know that. Allan Fung was borrowing from a Republican script developed by the party’s notorious message machine.
Which brings me to a question that many Rhode Islanders are asking with the midterm elections just a week away: why not turn over a House seat, long held by a retiring Democratic Rep. Jim Langevin, to Allan Fung, who happens to be a Republican?
Because Fung is indisputably a “nice guy.” He’s indisputably a moderate Republican. He says Joe Biden won the election. He’s for immigration reform. Against use of nuclear weapons. Couldn’t we use more of those kind of “nice” Republicans in Washington?
The Answer: no.
Absolutely, no.
FOR ONE THING, turning one Congressional seat from Blue to Red, even one belonging to tiny, usually insignificant Rhode Island, could transform the House into a Republican chamber of horrors, which is why I’ve been volunteering in the Magaziner campaign, canvassing door-to-door.
The other issue is character: character versus likability: Don’t we want someone likable to represent us in public life, especially in these fraught times?
Let’s get this straight, as noted already: Allan Fung is absolutely likable. He lights up a room. He’s the son of Chinese immigrants and the first Asian-American mayor of a Rhode Island city.
Actually, Seth Magaziner is likable, too. He’s also from a family of immigrants. He taught kids in a poor public school after college. He’s articulate and quick in a debate and in person. Fun to be around.
But none of that matters. Most politicians, even those you don’t agree with, are likely to be likable.
In person, most political people are fun to be around, fun to listen to, to take selfies with, have a beer with. Nice is what they do. It’s impractical to be a politician and not be likable.
But that doesn’t tell us who they really are.
Allan Fung belongs to a party whose repeated attacks on Nancy Pelosi have put her life and her husband’s life in danger – and that also threaten the political life of our country.
Tearing apart the reputations of people they don’t like is among the many despicable things that Republicans do. And during the TV debate Oct. 18 Allen Fung did not seem to mind playing a dangerous card – the Republican-crafted “Bad-Nancy” card.
If elected, Fung possibly will vote against some Republican proposals. But I’m betting that he’ll fall into line with his party’s agenda most of the time, just as he did during the debate with his repeated use of his Pelosi call-outs:
The other issue is character: character versus likability: Don’t we want someone likable to represent us in public life, especially in these fraught times?
Let’s get this straight, as noted already: Allan Fung is absolutely likable. He lights up a room. He’s the son of Chinese immigrants and the first Asian-American mayor of a Rhode Island city.
Actually, Seth Magaziner is likable, too. He’s also from a family of immigrants. He taught kids in a poor public school after college. He’s articulate and quick in a debate and in person. Fun to be around.
But none of that matters. Most politicians, even those you don’t agree with, are likely to be likable.
In person, most political people are fun to be around, fun to listen to, to take selfies with, have a beer with. Nice is what they do. It’s impractical to be a politician and not be likable.
But that doesn’t tell us who they really are.
Allan Fung belongs to a party whose repeated attacks on Nancy Pelosi have put her life and her husband’s life in danger – and that also threaten the political life of our country.
Tearing apart the reputations of people they don’t like is among the many despicable things that Republicans do. And during the TV debate Oct. 18 Allen Fung did not seem to mind playing a dangerous card – the Republican-crafted “Bad-Nancy” card.
If elected, Fung possibly will vote against some Republican proposals. But I’m betting that he’ll fall into line with his party’s agenda most of the time, just as he did during the debate with his repeated use of his Pelosi call-outs:
- “... he’s doubling down and supporting these same economic policies that our failed President, as well as Speaker Nancy Pelosi, had been forcing onto this economy, that’s costing us at the gas pumps, at the grocery stores.
- “… but most importantly, he’s doubled down right now – and talking about out of touch – he is supporting the failed policies of Joe Biden and Nancy Pelosi that is crippling this economy."
- “… the policies of the people he wants to (see) continue serving as President, and as Speaker, Nancy Pelosi."
- “I will be an independent voice standing up for Rhode Island values and standing up for those that are on Social Security, because the ones that are taking away Social Security isn’t going to be myself, it’s Seth Magaziner, because he’s doubling down on the same economic policies of President Biden, as well as Speaker Pelosi, that’s taking money out of your pockets."
- “My first vote in Congress will be to be to replace Nancy Pelosi as Speaker and her failed policies.”
- “You know, Seth Magaziner wants to double down on the policies that’s driving this cost of living crisis for all Rhode Islanders by supporting President Biden and Speaker Pelosi that have left spending out of control.”
MAYBE FUNG DIDN'T fully realize it himself at the time, but his constant mentions of Pelosi were not just annoying to Democrats like me, who are huge Nancy Pelosi fans.
Instead, they were a tip off as to Allan Fung’s character – and to those of most Republicans.
I’m not sure that I fully understood that, even as I was fuming about Fung’s repeated use of the Pelosi name, what that ploy really signified. But after the attack on Nancy Pelosi’s husband, it was clear to me that the debate had been a kind of test for Allan Fung – one that he failed.
It was a test in which a politician first appears to be a genuinely nice guy, but that in the end, he fails, because he turns out to be anything but nice.
Instead, they were a tip off as to Allan Fung’s character – and to those of most Republicans.
I’m not sure that I fully understood that, even as I was fuming about Fung’s repeated use of the Pelosi name, what that ploy really signified. But after the attack on Nancy Pelosi’s husband, it was clear to me that the debate had been a kind of test for Allan Fung – one that he failed.
It was a test in which a politician first appears to be a genuinely nice guy, but that in the end, he fails, because he turns out to be anything but nice.
THE VILLAINS OF ELECTION '22: THE CYNICS WHO CAN - BUT WON'T - VOTE
THE VILLAINS OF THE ELECTION OF 2022 are not who we think they are.
They are not mean.
They’re not vicious.
For the most part, they’re not violent, rude and foul-mouthed closet racists, avowed conspiracists, election corrupters or polling place bullies, dressed in Halloween camo, but packing real heat.
In other words, they aren't Republicans.
To the contrary, they are nice, most likely soft-spoken, polite, even gentle, agreeable, fun to be around. And they are everywhere. At the dinner table, sitting next to you at the football game, working at the opposite desk, raking the yard next door.
So, who are the villains of Election 2022?
They are the people who refuse to vote.
They are not mean.
They’re not vicious.
For the most part, they’re not violent, rude and foul-mouthed closet racists, avowed conspiracists, election corrupters or polling place bullies, dressed in Halloween camo, but packing real heat.
In other words, they aren't Republicans.
To the contrary, they are nice, most likely soft-spoken, polite, even gentle, agreeable, fun to be around. And they are everywhere. At the dinner table, sitting next to you at the football game, working at the opposite desk, raking the yard next door.
So, who are the villains of Election 2022?
They are the people who refuse to vote.
THEY COULD VOTE.
But they are determined not to.
They’re old enough. They’re citizens. Most don’t face the historic barriers to voting which reformers having been working so hard for years to knock down.
Probably, they have smart phones, iPads, desktop computers, mail boxes – all of the standard equipment they need to learn the basics of elections and how to participate.
They could register to vote. In fact, a lot of them already are registered to vote.
When it comes to carrying out the how of voting, they are perfectly capable of figuring out what would work best for them: early in-person voting; voting by mail; traditional voting on election day.
It's easy for them to apply for mail ballots; find out when and where early voting is underway; and they certainly can locate their election day polling places.
Most likely, they have raincoats and umbrellas, in case the weather turns rotten on election day.
Like most Americans, most have cars to get where they need to go – to a polling place or a mail box. Or they have mastered the arts of alternative transportation. They have bicycles to get to the polls and chains to lock their bikes while they’re voting. They may know the bus routes. They have friends and family members who can taken them here and there – like to a ballot drop-box.
But they won’t do it.
They just won’t vote.
And they’re killing us.
But they are determined not to.
They’re old enough. They’re citizens. Most don’t face the historic barriers to voting which reformers having been working so hard for years to knock down.
Probably, they have smart phones, iPads, desktop computers, mail boxes – all of the standard equipment they need to learn the basics of elections and how to participate.
They could register to vote. In fact, a lot of them already are registered to vote.
When it comes to carrying out the how of voting, they are perfectly capable of figuring out what would work best for them: early in-person voting; voting by mail; traditional voting on election day.
It's easy for them to apply for mail ballots; find out when and where early voting is underway; and they certainly can locate their election day polling places.
Most likely, they have raincoats and umbrellas, in case the weather turns rotten on election day.
Like most Americans, most have cars to get where they need to go – to a polling place or a mail box. Or they have mastered the arts of alternative transportation. They have bicycles to get to the polls and chains to lock their bikes while they’re voting. They may know the bus routes. They have friends and family members who can taken them here and there – like to a ballot drop-box.
But they won’t do it.
They just won’t vote.
And they’re killing us.
IT’S BECOME a sad cliché that we are a divided, partisan nation, separated into two, nearly equal groups, the Red and the Blue, who no longer talk to each other, who consider each other to be un-American terrorists determined to end democracy as we know it, beginning Nov. 8, 2022.
Actually, the two sides are equal only in numbers; only one of those two sides is a true danger to democracy, and it’s the "Red" one - the Trumpist Republican Party.
Some Republicans were among the criminals who overran the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, on a “bipartisan” mission to murder the Vice President of the United States (a Republican) and the Speaker of the House of Representatives (Democrat). And if they weren't part of the mob, they have becomes its apologists.
Instead of celebrating the Republican office holders who carried out their duties as secretaries of state and other neutral vote-counters, the Trumpist Republicans are doing their best to run them out of town, seeking local, county and state offices that oversee elections so they can skew the results, and in the meantime, passing laws making it easier to overturn voting outcomes they don’t like,
Democrats are many things, some of them not particularly complimentary.
The Blues seem not as interested as the Reds are in the minutiae and mechanics of the election process; don’t seem to have quite the work ethic of the election spoilers; and they haven’t planned and worked as diligently to take over school boards and state houses. Worse, Democrats can be embarrassingly and bizarrely idiotic, as demonstrated recently by members of the House Progressive Caucus, who recently sent a letter to Biden, urging him to negotiate a Ukrainian peace deal with Putin, only to modify, then withdrew the letter after a wave of common sense swept across the country.
But Democrats do have a few positive things going: a commitment to lawful elections, an interest in effective government and respect for law.
Actually, the two sides are equal only in numbers; only one of those two sides is a true danger to democracy, and it’s the "Red" one - the Trumpist Republican Party.
Some Republicans were among the criminals who overran the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, on a “bipartisan” mission to murder the Vice President of the United States (a Republican) and the Speaker of the House of Representatives (Democrat). And if they weren't part of the mob, they have becomes its apologists.
Instead of celebrating the Republican office holders who carried out their duties as secretaries of state and other neutral vote-counters, the Trumpist Republicans are doing their best to run them out of town, seeking local, county and state offices that oversee elections so they can skew the results, and in the meantime, passing laws making it easier to overturn voting outcomes they don’t like,
Democrats are many things, some of them not particularly complimentary.
The Blues seem not as interested as the Reds are in the minutiae and mechanics of the election process; don’t seem to have quite the work ethic of the election spoilers; and they haven’t planned and worked as diligently to take over school boards and state houses. Worse, Democrats can be embarrassingly and bizarrely idiotic, as demonstrated recently by members of the House Progressive Caucus, who recently sent a letter to Biden, urging him to negotiate a Ukrainian peace deal with Putin, only to modify, then withdrew the letter after a wave of common sense swept across the country.
But Democrats do have a few positive things going: a commitment to lawful elections, an interest in effective government and respect for law.
WHICH IS WHERE the non-voters come in.
In close elections, every vote counts. The non-voters could make the difference between whether we have a Red or Blue government, whether we continue as a democracy or something else.
The non-voters could care less.
If they have a political motto, it’s something like this: “I don’t care for politics.”
Their selfish, self-fulfilling cynicism follows a script like this: a) politics is a dirty business; b) politicians are going to do whatever they like, so why vote; c) the “system” is corrupt, ineffective and unfair; d) there's an election?
Whats more, I’m too nice, too busy, too smart, too agreeable.
The non-voters are united in the illusion that elections have nothing to do with real life.
Government has nothing to say about whether Social Security will adequately fund retirements ("It won't be there for me"). Government doesn't have anything to do with health care (I’m feeling fine); pandemics can be controlled (I can’t stand masks); meat is properly inspected (like I said, I'm feeling fine); schools are terrible (what's new?); potholes fill themselves (except the ones in front of my house); sometimes rogue countries invade other countries (so what?); climate change is a) overwhelming, b) too far down the road to worry about; abortion is a "woman's problem"; 110 mph is a reasonable speed limit (except on my street); children should be able go to school without being blown to bits as long as the rights of gun owners are not infringed upon.
Democracy is difficult, demanding and discouraging.
It puts a terrible emotional burden on Americans who take it seriously. I'm guessing that few of us are expecting a stress-free evening Nov. 8, or later, trying to figure out what to do in its aftermath.
I admit that I thought that after Trump was banished from the White House following four years of turmoil and chaos, we could relax for many more years. I was wrong and foolish. We are condemned to living out the rest of our lives in a perpetual political emergency.
SO, IT’S EASY TO UNDERSTAND why millions of Americans opt out of politics and its logical requirement that everyone who can vote should vote.
We all know someone, probably many people, who don't vote.
The non-voters are, as I said, often likable, logical, affable folks, probably entertaining dinner companions and perhaps community-spirited – maybe they coach kids’ soccer and help out at a soup kitchen and contribute to Go-Fund-Me campaigns and have amazing vegetable gardens.
But they are dangerous, and if this country goes down the tubes because of the way this election or subsequent ones turn out, it will be their fault.
They’ll, of course, pay the price for their indifference.
But so will the rest of us.
In close elections, every vote counts. The non-voters could make the difference between whether we have a Red or Blue government, whether we continue as a democracy or something else.
The non-voters could care less.
If they have a political motto, it’s something like this: “I don’t care for politics.”
Their selfish, self-fulfilling cynicism follows a script like this: a) politics is a dirty business; b) politicians are going to do whatever they like, so why vote; c) the “system” is corrupt, ineffective and unfair; d) there's an election?
Whats more, I’m too nice, too busy, too smart, too agreeable.
The non-voters are united in the illusion that elections have nothing to do with real life.
Government has nothing to say about whether Social Security will adequately fund retirements ("It won't be there for me"). Government doesn't have anything to do with health care (I’m feeling fine); pandemics can be controlled (I can’t stand masks); meat is properly inspected (like I said, I'm feeling fine); schools are terrible (what's new?); potholes fill themselves (except the ones in front of my house); sometimes rogue countries invade other countries (so what?); climate change is a) overwhelming, b) too far down the road to worry about; abortion is a "woman's problem"; 110 mph is a reasonable speed limit (except on my street); children should be able go to school without being blown to bits as long as the rights of gun owners are not infringed upon.
Democracy is difficult, demanding and discouraging.
It puts a terrible emotional burden on Americans who take it seriously. I'm guessing that few of us are expecting a stress-free evening Nov. 8, or later, trying to figure out what to do in its aftermath.
I admit that I thought that after Trump was banished from the White House following four years of turmoil and chaos, we could relax for many more years. I was wrong and foolish. We are condemned to living out the rest of our lives in a perpetual political emergency.
SO, IT’S EASY TO UNDERSTAND why millions of Americans opt out of politics and its logical requirement that everyone who can vote should vote.
We all know someone, probably many people, who don't vote.
The non-voters are, as I said, often likable, logical, affable folks, probably entertaining dinner companions and perhaps community-spirited – maybe they coach kids’ soccer and help out at a soup kitchen and contribute to Go-Fund-Me campaigns and have amazing vegetable gardens.
But they are dangerous, and if this country goes down the tubes because of the way this election or subsequent ones turn out, it will be their fault.
They’ll, of course, pay the price for their indifference.
But so will the rest of us.
DEMOCRATS, LISTEN TO
CHICKEN LITTLE:
THE SKY IS NOT FALLING
MEMO
(Urgent)
(Urgent)
FROM: Chicken Little
TO: Democrats, Progressives, Liberals,
People of Goodwill & Fellow Patriots
SUBJECT: The Sky
DATE: 19 Days To The Midterms
I HAVE AN important announcement:
THE SKY IS NOT FALLING!
You’ve heard and read otherwise.
The Democrats in Congress are toast, and thus begins the long-predicted end of the American experiment.
Polls say so. Pundits say so. The pits of your stomachs say so.
Here’s a quick round-up of headlines I've plucked from various news sites on this very theme:
TO: Democrats, Progressives, Liberals,
People of Goodwill & Fellow Patriots
SUBJECT: The Sky
DATE: 19 Days To The Midterms
I HAVE AN important announcement:
THE SKY IS NOT FALLING!
You’ve heard and read otherwise.
The Democrats in Congress are toast, and thus begins the long-predicted end of the American experiment.
Polls say so. Pundits say so. The pits of your stomachs say so.
Here’s a quick round-up of headlines I've plucked from various news sites on this very theme:
- A slate of races now lean Republican in our latest forecast update (Politico)
- Democrats’ failure to make 2022 about the threat to democracy (Washington Post)
- Facing tough midterms, Biden releasing oil from US reserve (Associated Press)
- Bernie Sanders, Fearing Weak Democratic Turnout, Plans Midterms Blitz (New York Times)
- Are Democrats messing up their midterm messaging? (The Guardian)
SO, NOTHING NEW HERE.
The doomsayers, the negativists, the spoilers, the half-empty glassers, the pessimists are at it again, as they have been for months. Midterm elections are hard on the party in power, historically; and Joe Biden’s poll numbers are pathetic; lots of Democratic Congressmen and Women chickened out early and didn't even try to run again. Maybe it was looking a little brighter for the Dems earlier this summer, but the tide is turning. Blah, blah, blah, blah.
Look, as a legendary prognosticator, I admit that I don’t have a good record as to warning of a falling sky.
My record is worse even more than that of the boy who warned incessantly of the arrival of my mortal enemy, The Wolf.
But we pessimists do have this going for us: sooner or later, we ARE going to be right.
We all die.
Before that, we all lose, fail and collapse at some point in our lives.
That center of our earthly existence, the sun, will run out of gas.
And who can forget what came roaring out of the sky a while ago – it seems like yesterday – when that mother of all asteroids struck the earth, wiping out the dinosaurs. What a classic bit of bad bad-sky news, about which we’re still learning new facts.
Just yesterday, the Washington Post added this new information - talk about rough seas:
Sixty-six million years ago, a nearly nine-mile-wide asteroid collided with Earth, sparking a mass extinction that wiped out most dinosaurs and three-quarters of the planet’s plant and animal species. Now we’re learning that the so-called Chicxulub asteroid also generated a massive “megatsunami” with waves more than a mile high.
But here’s the thing.
We also know that just recently NASA sent a spacecraft after a contemporary asteroid, crashing into it so as to slightly change its orbit, a successful experiment that suggests that monster rocks don’t have to strike Mother Earth twice.
“All of us have a responsibility to protect our home planet. After all, it’s the only one we have,” said NASA Administrator Bill Nelson, in in a self-serving, but on-target news release put out by his agency.
My point: the sky is not falling, certainly not the way it used to, definitely not yet.
Here’s another thing to keep in mind: sports, particularly sports cliches.
The doomsayers, the negativists, the spoilers, the half-empty glassers, the pessimists are at it again, as they have been for months. Midterm elections are hard on the party in power, historically; and Joe Biden’s poll numbers are pathetic; lots of Democratic Congressmen and Women chickened out early and didn't even try to run again. Maybe it was looking a little brighter for the Dems earlier this summer, but the tide is turning. Blah, blah, blah, blah.
Look, as a legendary prognosticator, I admit that I don’t have a good record as to warning of a falling sky.
My record is worse even more than that of the boy who warned incessantly of the arrival of my mortal enemy, The Wolf.
But we pessimists do have this going for us: sooner or later, we ARE going to be right.
We all die.
Before that, we all lose, fail and collapse at some point in our lives.
That center of our earthly existence, the sun, will run out of gas.
And who can forget what came roaring out of the sky a while ago – it seems like yesterday – when that mother of all asteroids struck the earth, wiping out the dinosaurs. What a classic bit of bad bad-sky news, about which we’re still learning new facts.
Just yesterday, the Washington Post added this new information - talk about rough seas:
Sixty-six million years ago, a nearly nine-mile-wide asteroid collided with Earth, sparking a mass extinction that wiped out most dinosaurs and three-quarters of the planet’s plant and animal species. Now we’re learning that the so-called Chicxulub asteroid also generated a massive “megatsunami” with waves more than a mile high.
But here’s the thing.
We also know that just recently NASA sent a spacecraft after a contemporary asteroid, crashing into it so as to slightly change its orbit, a successful experiment that suggests that monster rocks don’t have to strike Mother Earth twice.
“All of us have a responsibility to protect our home planet. After all, it’s the only one we have,” said NASA Administrator Bill Nelson, in in a self-serving, but on-target news release put out by his agency.
My point: the sky is not falling, certainly not the way it used to, definitely not yet.
Here’s another thing to keep in mind: sports, particularly sports cliches.
RECENTLY, MRS. LITTLE AND I took an interest in world soccer, AKA, "football."
By way of background, we Littles are not big, bruiser-type athletes or even sports fans. By definition, we are little, and we definitely are chicken when it comes to contact sports. But thanks to streaming TV, we've become a wee bit knowledgeable about soccer/football, and developed some respect for sports' sayings, AKA "wisdom."
Just this past May, the championship of the English Premier League was on the line as Manchester City played Aston Villa. Well into the 90-minute game (matches typically go longer, but that’s too esoteric for this discussion). At about the 75-minute mark, “Villa” was ahead of “City,” 2-to-nil. Hopeless, given that soccer/football is a low-scoring game. However, in the next five minutes, “City” scored three goals, two by the same player, a substitute. And Manchester City won the league championship.
You see what I mean?
By way of background, we Littles are not big, bruiser-type athletes or even sports fans. By definition, we are little, and we definitely are chicken when it comes to contact sports. But thanks to streaming TV, we've become a wee bit knowledgeable about soccer/football, and developed some respect for sports' sayings, AKA "wisdom."
Just this past May, the championship of the English Premier League was on the line as Manchester City played Aston Villa. Well into the 90-minute game (matches typically go longer, but that’s too esoteric for this discussion). At about the 75-minute mark, “Villa” was ahead of “City,” 2-to-nil. Hopeless, given that soccer/football is a low-scoring game. However, in the next five minutes, “City” scored three goals, two by the same player, a substitute. And Manchester City won the league championship.
You see what I mean?
IT'S NOT GUARANTEED that the Republicans are going to take control of the House. Or, even worse,that they’ll take back the Senate, too. Or that Red State legislators will get their way as election fixers, bullies of transgender kids and abortion lunatics.
What I can tell you is this: today is no time for predictions.
It’s time to vote.
Early voting has begun in many places. Mail ballots are already on voters’ kitchen tables. Election day is Nov. 8.
People, who just a few weeks ago didn’t know there was an election this year, are waking up to, eating dinner to, going to bed to a chorus of grotesque, misleading, ridiculous campaign ads. But those ads have one big positive: they alert all of us to the fact that there’s an election.
So, it’s time to persuade the two or three people left in the country who haven’t made up their minds about Donald Trump. Time to hector Democrats to do the right thing: get off the couch and go vote. Now is the time for the fanatics, the political junkies, the besotted volunteers to stop fretting about winners or losers, and, instead, round up their friends, their families, the people next door and across the street, and start talking to total strangers, calling, texting, ringing, writing, mailing, pleading, begging.
This is our long-shot, our come-from-behind chance. So, let’s stay in the game.
Let’s be positive.
Let’s hope.
Let’s get out there, do the work
And even have some fun in the closing weeks, days and minutes.
Do not worry about the sky. I’ll take care of that.
The rest is up to you.
What I can tell you is this: today is no time for predictions.
It’s time to vote.
Early voting has begun in many places. Mail ballots are already on voters’ kitchen tables. Election day is Nov. 8.
People, who just a few weeks ago didn’t know there was an election this year, are waking up to, eating dinner to, going to bed to a chorus of grotesque, misleading, ridiculous campaign ads. But those ads have one big positive: they alert all of us to the fact that there’s an election.
So, it’s time to persuade the two or three people left in the country who haven’t made up their minds about Donald Trump. Time to hector Democrats to do the right thing: get off the couch and go vote. Now is the time for the fanatics, the political junkies, the besotted volunteers to stop fretting about winners or losers, and, instead, round up their friends, their families, the people next door and across the street, and start talking to total strangers, calling, texting, ringing, writing, mailing, pleading, begging.
This is our long-shot, our come-from-behind chance. So, let’s stay in the game.
Let’s be positive.
Let’s hope.
Let’s get out there, do the work
And even have some fun in the closing weeks, days and minutes.
Do not worry about the sky. I’ll take care of that.
The rest is up to you.
AN ISLAND VACATION:
WHERE SUMMER SEEMS ENDLESS; AND TRUMP'S CRUEL WINTER IS TOO EASILY FORGOTTEN
WE ARE ON BLOCK ISLAND, a speck of paradise in the Atlantic Ocean, 12 miles off the New England mainland.
The weather is fantastic. Deep blue skies, gentle temperatures and a just trace of wind, making it hard to remember that Fall has been officially underway for a while now, with Winter inevitable as it will be savage. But today, you can still taste Summer.
Block Island is always described in superlatives: One of the Last Best Places on Earth sort of thing; and truly, nearly half of its nine-plus square miles are preserved, conserved and protected against development, in part because long-ago landowners agreed to give up personal fortunes so the rest of us can be reminded of what a planet should be and could be.
My wife and I almost didn’t make it here this year.
The remnants of Hurricane Ian, having murdered scores of Floridians and devastated the lives of thousands of others, brushed past New England with towering seas and fierce winds, forcing cancellation on three successive days of the ferries that connect paradise with the rest of Rhode Island.
Lucky for us, innkeepers moved our reservations to the following week, the first few days of which have been, as I said, breathtaking.
The weather is fantastic. Deep blue skies, gentle temperatures and a just trace of wind, making it hard to remember that Fall has been officially underway for a while now, with Winter inevitable as it will be savage. But today, you can still taste Summer.
Block Island is always described in superlatives: One of the Last Best Places on Earth sort of thing; and truly, nearly half of its nine-plus square miles are preserved, conserved and protected against development, in part because long-ago landowners agreed to give up personal fortunes so the rest of us can be reminded of what a planet should be and could be.
My wife and I almost didn’t make it here this year.
The remnants of Hurricane Ian, having murdered scores of Floridians and devastated the lives of thousands of others, brushed past New England with towering seas and fierce winds, forcing cancellation on three successive days of the ferries that connect paradise with the rest of Rhode Island.
Lucky for us, innkeepers moved our reservations to the following week, the first few days of which have been, as I said, breathtaking.
BLOCK ISLAND IS ITS own kind of world: soaring cliffs, lush glens laced with public walking trails, along with sparkling ponds, miles upon miles of stone walls, big and little beaches, Victorian buildings with cupolas, and two signature lighthouses, one of which is called the Southeast Light and was saved from falling into the ocean in the 1990s, thanks to twin miracles of engineering and fundraising, making it possible to lift up the massive brick structure and move it away from a constantly eroding coastline.
Our forever summer, of course, is an illusion. Winter is on it’s way, and more immediately, a fresh assault of rotten weather is in this week’s forecast, so we’re starting to worry that the ferries could again stop running, stranding us on the wrong side of our mini-vacation, temporarily homeless.
But on a day like this, the forecast seems like a word that old Joe Biden might use, malarkey.
Our forever summer, of course, is an illusion. Winter is on it’s way, and more immediately, a fresh assault of rotten weather is in this week’s forecast, so we’re starting to worry that the ferries could again stop running, stranding us on the wrong side of our mini-vacation, temporarily homeless.
But on a day like this, the forecast seems like a word that old Joe Biden might use, malarkey.
IN A WAY, today’s mirage of perpetual summer is a metaphor for the dangerous politics from which the nation seems unable to free itself.
Today, the election seems far off, which is silly, because it’s only weeks away.
And surely we know what could be next: a political Winter that isn’t just harsh, but one that in actuality never ends; the beginning of a new Dark Ages, from which there is no rescue, no Spring, no Summer, and no Fall, a time in which the seasonal pendulum has frozen into permanent polarized Winter.
What’s so frustrating is that most of us are like me, vacationers oblivious to the coming storm, and even if we acknowledge that Summer someday could pause, the promise of Spring and all the good stuff that follows, is inevitable.
But we know, deep down, what’s really on its way, and that we should have learned our lesson. We barely survived the four-year political Winter of Donald Trump. We’ve seen the remarkable hold that Trump still has on an entire political party, which instead of rejecting Trump’s lawless, cruel, selfish and anti-democratic example, has embraced, and is still perfecting, the Trump Way.
Today, the election seems far off, which is silly, because it’s only weeks away.
And surely we know what could be next: a political Winter that isn’t just harsh, but one that in actuality never ends; the beginning of a new Dark Ages, from which there is no rescue, no Spring, no Summer, and no Fall, a time in which the seasonal pendulum has frozen into permanent polarized Winter.
What’s so frustrating is that most of us are like me, vacationers oblivious to the coming storm, and even if we acknowledge that Summer someday could pause, the promise of Spring and all the good stuff that follows, is inevitable.
But we know, deep down, what’s really on its way, and that we should have learned our lesson. We barely survived the four-year political Winter of Donald Trump. We’ve seen the remarkable hold that Trump still has on an entire political party, which instead of rejecting Trump’s lawless, cruel, selfish and anti-democratic example, has embraced, and is still perfecting, the Trump Way.
WE NEED need to wake up – and fast.
Nuclear disaster is again up for discussion, long after the Cold War ended, along with its dire thoughts of an atomic holocaust. Wildfires and hurricanes are signs of a collapsing and unlivable climate. The economy remains unjust, unfair and irreparable as ever.
But Republican fanatics are interested in preventing and fixing none of these real catastrophes, focused instead on deliberately, systemically wrecking an electoral process that is the core of the American political ecosystem.
Too many Americans are here with us on Block Island, still on vacation, in denial of the coming political darkness, because Summer keeps on churning out warm, wonderful days. You know what season it is? Football season. And, heck, in the unlikely event of a chiller cycle, there are three other nicer ones right behind.
So, why vote?
And was Trump really that bad? Jan. 6 is history, folks. Gas prices were low beyond belief under Trump.
What’s Joe Biden done for us lately? He’s really old; frankly, too old. Really.
TODAY, I'M HERE on Block Island to tell you that temperatures feel like they are in the 70s.
The wind is gentle, and that on the long sandy, rocky walk to the other lighthouse, the North Light, you can see the seals frolicking in the calm, glassy ocean.
It’s perfect, just as life is supposed to be.
It's impossible to imagine that it could be any other way.
Nuclear disaster is again up for discussion, long after the Cold War ended, along with its dire thoughts of an atomic holocaust. Wildfires and hurricanes are signs of a collapsing and unlivable climate. The economy remains unjust, unfair and irreparable as ever.
But Republican fanatics are interested in preventing and fixing none of these real catastrophes, focused instead on deliberately, systemically wrecking an electoral process that is the core of the American political ecosystem.
Too many Americans are here with us on Block Island, still on vacation, in denial of the coming political darkness, because Summer keeps on churning out warm, wonderful days. You know what season it is? Football season. And, heck, in the unlikely event of a chiller cycle, there are three other nicer ones right behind.
So, why vote?
And was Trump really that bad? Jan. 6 is history, folks. Gas prices were low beyond belief under Trump.
What’s Joe Biden done for us lately? He’s really old; frankly, too old. Really.
TODAY, I'M HERE on Block Island to tell you that temperatures feel like they are in the 70s.
The wind is gentle, and that on the long sandy, rocky walk to the other lighthouse, the North Light, you can see the seals frolicking in the calm, glassy ocean.
It’s perfect, just as life is supposed to be.
It's impossible to imagine that it could be any other way.
Enamored of a Queen,
Is America wishing for
a King of our very own?
(NOTE: This post has been updated to emphasize the difference between ceremonial and actual monarchies).
I'M SORRY that Queen Elizabeth is dead.
And I understand the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, day-after-day, week-after-week, 24-7 news coverage, because there’s no such thing as proportional news. There’s just no way to get the volume of the news right: it’s either too little, or way, way, way over the top.
It’s sort of like the weather, never perfect. Of course, the difference between extreme news and extreme weather is that one morning, we’ll wake up, and, poof, Queen Elizabeth will have disappeared from our TV screens and front pages. But the hurricanes, floods, wildfires, mudslides, tornadoes of the modern era will be with us and getting worse until we either fix the climate or, alternatively, end up like the Queen.
Look. I’m not a dolt. I realize that the Royal Family has a hold on the American psyche. We are fascinated. Who said What to Whom (or is it Whom said What to Who)? Who is the racist(s) in the Family? Will Harry and Meghan be re-enfolded into the Royal Fold? Explain to me Princess Anne, again? What to make of the latest cryptic dispatch from The Palace (In a land where Palaces speak)? Who’ll take care of the corgis? What’s a Consort?
And, it's true: Queen Elizabeth had style.
MY PROBLEM IS WHY?
Why are we so besotted bythe Royal Family?
Didn’t we fight a war, crack the Liberty Bell, winter at Valley Forge, write a Constitution and pay a fortune to see “Hamilton” so we could be be rid of the Royals?
It seems to me that the Queen, and now the King, are the polar opposites of what the United States of America is supposed to believe in, is supposed to be?
Don't we believe in electing our leaders, not in DNA determinism mapped out on succession charts interpreted by soothsayers with British accents on loan to MSNBC, deciding who'll end up atop the national pyramid.
We Americans believe in the Common Man, the Common Woman, the Common Nonbionary, not the aristocracy, the Super Rich, the cryptocrats and the kleptocrats.
Yes, we want to be rich ourselves, but generally we don’t “like” anyone else who is, except maybe The Deserving Rich, such as those who figured out same-day delivery, IOS 16 software and soft-serve ice cream.
Or the thousands of 20-somethings granted fortunes to play in the NFL, NBA, MLB and the Premier League. Or geniuses, who are truly meritorious and exceptional like Oprah, Taylor Swift and the Powerball winner who lives next door and darn well better remember who shoveled their sidewalks during the most savage winters.
I'M SORRY that Queen Elizabeth is dead.
And I understand the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, day-after-day, week-after-week, 24-7 news coverage, because there’s no such thing as proportional news. There’s just no way to get the volume of the news right: it’s either too little, or way, way, way over the top.
It’s sort of like the weather, never perfect. Of course, the difference between extreme news and extreme weather is that one morning, we’ll wake up, and, poof, Queen Elizabeth will have disappeared from our TV screens and front pages. But the hurricanes, floods, wildfires, mudslides, tornadoes of the modern era will be with us and getting worse until we either fix the climate or, alternatively, end up like the Queen.
Look. I’m not a dolt. I realize that the Royal Family has a hold on the American psyche. We are fascinated. Who said What to Whom (or is it Whom said What to Who)? Who is the racist(s) in the Family? Will Harry and Meghan be re-enfolded into the Royal Fold? Explain to me Princess Anne, again? What to make of the latest cryptic dispatch from The Palace (In a land where Palaces speak)? Who’ll take care of the corgis? What’s a Consort?
And, it's true: Queen Elizabeth had style.
MY PROBLEM IS WHY?
Why are we so besotted bythe Royal Family?
Didn’t we fight a war, crack the Liberty Bell, winter at Valley Forge, write a Constitution and pay a fortune to see “Hamilton” so we could be be rid of the Royals?
It seems to me that the Queen, and now the King, are the polar opposites of what the United States of America is supposed to believe in, is supposed to be?
Don't we believe in electing our leaders, not in DNA determinism mapped out on succession charts interpreted by soothsayers with British accents on loan to MSNBC, deciding who'll end up atop the national pyramid.
We Americans believe in the Common Man, the Common Woman, the Common Nonbionary, not the aristocracy, the Super Rich, the cryptocrats and the kleptocrats.
Yes, we want to be rich ourselves, but generally we don’t “like” anyone else who is, except maybe The Deserving Rich, such as those who figured out same-day delivery, IOS 16 software and soft-serve ice cream.
Or the thousands of 20-somethings granted fortunes to play in the NFL, NBA, MLB and the Premier League. Or geniuses, who are truly meritorious and exceptional like Oprah, Taylor Swift and the Powerball winner who lives next door and darn well better remember who shoveled their sidewalks during the most savage winters.
IT'S PRETTY CLEAR that long, long ago, when Britain, England, the United Kingdom, the Commonwealth - collectively The Empire - really amounted to something, and that it was run by murderers, militarists, racists, bullies and slave-runners – colonists, who exploited entire continents, but nowadays are left only with their pomp, their rituals, their uncomfortable costumes and a history of shame that deserves no honor, celebration or emulation.
What worries me is whether that's what we want, too.
A King.
A functional one, as opposed to the ceremonial, symbolic variety.
We’d settle for a Queen, of course.
But a real King would be the real thing.
Kings are easier. They know what to do. They’ll tell us how to think and when - or not. When to have an abortion, or, more to the point, when not to have an abortion. When we should wear a mask, and better still, when not to wear one. What books to read; or, better still, what books to ban; or even better, what books to burn. Who should immigrate into the country, and better still, who should not.
A King will know which people should live in what neighborhoods; who should go to jail; who should treated politely by the police. Who should eat, who should be food-insecure. Who should be paid; who should be paid a lot; or not. Who should stay home; who should unload the dishwasher; who should own a dishwasher; our not.
Democracy is hard. You have to make decisions, watch and/or read and listen to the news; have disagreements with your family and the people next door; go to city council meetings; donate to candidates; argue; settle for the lesser of two evils; figure out who’s telling the truth most of the time, or who’s lying the least. You have to worry who’ll win; worry whether you picked a loser; or worry that you've elected a winner who later you realize should have lost.
Having a loving, empathetic, wise boss and doing what he says is easier than belonging to a union, and, regardless of whether your union gets you decent pay, and either way, still,having to pay dues.
What worries me is whether that's what we want, too.
A King.
A functional one, as opposed to the ceremonial, symbolic variety.
We’d settle for a Queen, of course.
But a real King would be the real thing.
Kings are easier. They know what to do. They’ll tell us how to think and when - or not. When to have an abortion, or, more to the point, when not to have an abortion. When we should wear a mask, and better still, when not to wear one. What books to read; or, better still, what books to ban; or even better, what books to burn. Who should immigrate into the country, and better still, who should not.
A King will know which people should live in what neighborhoods; who should go to jail; who should treated politely by the police. Who should eat, who should be food-insecure. Who should be paid; who should be paid a lot; or not. Who should stay home; who should unload the dishwasher; who should own a dishwasher; our not.
Democracy is hard. You have to make decisions, watch and/or read and listen to the news; have disagreements with your family and the people next door; go to city council meetings; donate to candidates; argue; settle for the lesser of two evils; figure out who’s telling the truth most of the time, or who’s lying the least. You have to worry who’ll win; worry whether you picked a loser; or worry that you've elected a winner who later you realize should have lost.
Having a loving, empathetic, wise boss and doing what he says is easier than belonging to a union, and, regardless of whether your union gets you decent pay, and either way, still,having to pay dues.
THE KING SYSTEM
Under the King System, you're likely to get out of jury duty.
By decree, there'll be no building codes.
The King understands. He knows what to do. Leave it to him. Listen to what he says, then do it.
It’s the most important issue to be decided in the election to be held this fast-approaching November, and again, in the fateful presidential election of 2024.
Can we, should we, will we leave the headaches and heartaches and uncertainties, the anguish and hard work of democracy behind?
Perhaps, unlike has-been England, with its fairy tale Queens and pretend Kings, maybe our country is still mighty enough, prosperous enough and mean and cruel enough to warrant the real thing, a genuine King of our very own.
We could have Donald J. Trump and be done with it.
Under the King System, you're likely to get out of jury duty.
By decree, there'll be no building codes.
The King understands. He knows what to do. Leave it to him. Listen to what he says, then do it.
It’s the most important issue to be decided in the election to be held this fast-approaching November, and again, in the fateful presidential election of 2024.
Can we, should we, will we leave the headaches and heartaches and uncertainties, the anguish and hard work of democracy behind?
Perhaps, unlike has-been England, with its fairy tale Queens and pretend Kings, maybe our country is still mighty enough, prosperous enough and mean and cruel enough to warrant the real thing, a genuine King of our very own.
We could have Donald J. Trump and be done with it.
BRIAN C. JONES
I'VE BEEN a reporter and writer for 60 years, long enough to have learned that journalists don't know very much, although I've met some smart ones.
Mainly, what reporters know comes from asking other people questions and fretting about their answers.
This blog is a successor to one inspired by our dog, Phoebe, who was smart, sweet and the antithesis of Donald Trump. She died Feb. 3, 2022, and I don't see getting over that very soon.
Occasionally, I think about trying to reach her via cell phone.
Mainly, what reporters know comes from asking other people questions and fretting about their answers.
This blog is a successor to one inspired by our dog, Phoebe, who was smart, sweet and the antithesis of Donald Trump. She died Feb. 3, 2022, and I don't see getting over that very soon.
Occasionally, I think about trying to reach her via cell phone.
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