If we studied US history, we should remember the Donner Party, that doomed group of travelers who found themselves trapped in the deep snows of what is now Donner Pass. We all know what happened.
The same thing happened yesterday in the Iowa caucuses (or should that be caw-cuses?). Six went in. Three were strong. One was clinging by a thread. Two were the walking dead. The one clinging by a thread broke Ronald Reagan's cardinal rule: never speak ill of your fellow Republicans.
It was bound to happen, since Iowa is a winnowing process. With Tuesday giving the voters a chance to speak, much was on the line, according to the politicos and the pundits. Early in the day, Mean Newt showed up and called Romney a liar. Twice. He just couldn't help himself.
ABM candidate Santorum had a very strong showing, scaring the sh** out of Romney, who beat him by eight votes. Not percent. Votes.
So, Mitt and ABM Santorum came away in a virtual tie with 25% each. Ron Paul came in second with 21%, showing that his message continues to meet approval of many voters. Mean Newt should be embarrassed with 13%, although his spin doctors will say he wasn't "really" campaigning in Iowa. And the walking dead? Perry and Bachman should drop out, although that would leave us with no one to laugh at. Until Mean Newt opens his mouth today.
If this were a restaurant, we'd hear Donner, Party of Six. Donner, Party of Five.
Can't wait to see what happens next.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Presidential Revolving Doors
I've been following the Republican candidate shuffle for weeks now, so much that I dream about the debates. Regardless of which side of the fence you're on politically, you have to admit this has been comedy of the absurd. When the horses lined up at the gate, we had too many to name. I don't remember who all threw hats in the ring, but it was like a land-grab stampede. Hands waving in the air, all proclaiming "I'm the only one who can turn Obama into a one-term president."
Then we started seeing the bottom of the pack drop out. Names of people who weren't in the race floated around, but most didn't take the bait. We had Michelle Bachman leading for a couple of weeks. Ron Paul garnered some support, then faded, only to resurface recently. All the while, we had Mitt Romney smugly suggesting that the others were silly because he was the anointed one.
Rick Perry challenged Mitt. In spite of outrageous positions on many issues, Perry surged ahead, thereby proving the talking heads right. The public was desperately seeking Not-Mitt. Perry's mouth and lapses of intelligence all but doomed his hopes.
Herman Cain came on strong, crushed Perry and left Mitt looking a bit worried. Cain imploded on his lack of knowledge of international affairs, as well as a reported sexual affair. Bye, Herman. Mitt sat back, smugly thinking he'd get the Cain supporters.
And then came the Newtster. Gingrich to the rescue. Leading in the polls by lurking on the sidelines. The rush to embrace a man of complex flip-flops demonstrates one more time how desperate the early voting public is for Not-Mitt. Well, the Newtster is certainly not Mitt.
My opening comment was that one of the Republican candidates would turn Obama into a one-term president. I'm not sure that's the case. There is one certain way, however, that Obama could be a one-term president.
Following on a theory advanced in a Wall Street Journal editorial a few weeks ago, Obama could "do a Johnson" and announce he's not going to run. Hillary could announce that "for the good of the party and for the good of the country" she would. At 69% approval from both sides of the voting public, Hillary, not Mitt, not Not-Mitt, would be the Republicans worst nightmare. Just the thought would be enough for all the Republican candidates to send their clothes out to be dry-cleaned.
And then I woke up.
Then we started seeing the bottom of the pack drop out. Names of people who weren't in the race floated around, but most didn't take the bait. We had Michelle Bachman leading for a couple of weeks. Ron Paul garnered some support, then faded, only to resurface recently. All the while, we had Mitt Romney smugly suggesting that the others were silly because he was the anointed one.
Rick Perry challenged Mitt. In spite of outrageous positions on many issues, Perry surged ahead, thereby proving the talking heads right. The public was desperately seeking Not-Mitt. Perry's mouth and lapses of intelligence all but doomed his hopes.
Herman Cain came on strong, crushed Perry and left Mitt looking a bit worried. Cain imploded on his lack of knowledge of international affairs, as well as a reported sexual affair. Bye, Herman. Mitt sat back, smugly thinking he'd get the Cain supporters.
And then came the Newtster. Gingrich to the rescue. Leading in the polls by lurking on the sidelines. The rush to embrace a man of complex flip-flops demonstrates one more time how desperate the early voting public is for Not-Mitt. Well, the Newtster is certainly not Mitt.
My opening comment was that one of the Republican candidates would turn Obama into a one-term president. I'm not sure that's the case. There is one certain way, however, that Obama could be a one-term president.
Following on a theory advanced in a Wall Street Journal editorial a few weeks ago, Obama could "do a Johnson" and announce he's not going to run. Hillary could announce that "for the good of the party and for the good of the country" she would. At 69% approval from both sides of the voting public, Hillary, not Mitt, not Not-Mitt, would be the Republicans worst nightmare. Just the thought would be enough for all the Republican candidates to send their clothes out to be dry-cleaned.
And then I woke up.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Fakes, Shams and Exaggerators
Like most of my friends, I'm pretty fed up with fakes, shams and exaggerators. I don't think they are the same, but there is adequate room for overlap.
So the fakes first. I see them as people who have a job, take on a specific challenge and then back off from the challenge and don't do anything. Think about the super committee. These guys are fakes. They promised to write new legislation reducing our national debt and then rolled over and fell prey to the lobbyists and party muscle and did nothing. Oh, they met. They postured. They squabbled. But in the end, they didn't do the job they promised to do. Of course, they are members of Congress, as disfunctional group of elected officials as I've seen in a long time. Wouldn't it e great if We the People could lock them out, like the owners did the overpaid one-percenters who play pro basketball? Once again I have to remind Congress that you aren't doing the job of this "People."
Next are the shams. These people call us a dozen times a day trying to pry another dollar out of our pockets for some cause or other. Most of the causes may be valid, but so little of the funds donated by phone reach the cause. Those telephone beggars get paid, you know. I prefer to donate to a cause I can see face to face.
I realize that some of the shams believe they are doing good. There was a Catholic priest in New York City who ran Covenant House, a shelter for runaway and street teens. We donated to his cause for years. Then the newspapers broke the story that the priest molested several runaways. He got thousands off the streets but became a sham when he kept a few for his own purposes.
Let's look at the exaggerators. I just finished reading Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson. I knew that Mortenson had been exposed for not keeping good records about the schools he built in Afghanistan. When CBS's Sixty Minutes sent a camera crew to many of the schools, they found many Mortenson claimed to have built never were constructed. Others were storage units for animal fodder. Millions poured into his Central Asia Institute, which is now under scrutiny. Great idea, good results when Mortenson was working small. But when he expanded, he lost control. His book is compelling. Too bad it's as much fiction as adoration. There must be facts there, but they are clouded by the facts.
I'll spare you my rant about politicians on this holiday eve. Oh, wait. Many fit all three categories. Especially when they are running for president. I may have to rethink sparing you the rant. That's material for another post on another day.
So the fakes first. I see them as people who have a job, take on a specific challenge and then back off from the challenge and don't do anything. Think about the super committee. These guys are fakes. They promised to write new legislation reducing our national debt and then rolled over and fell prey to the lobbyists and party muscle and did nothing. Oh, they met. They postured. They squabbled. But in the end, they didn't do the job they promised to do. Of course, they are members of Congress, as disfunctional group of elected officials as I've seen in a long time. Wouldn't it e great if We the People could lock them out, like the owners did the overpaid one-percenters who play pro basketball? Once again I have to remind Congress that you aren't doing the job of this "People."
Next are the shams. These people call us a dozen times a day trying to pry another dollar out of our pockets for some cause or other. Most of the causes may be valid, but so little of the funds donated by phone reach the cause. Those telephone beggars get paid, you know. I prefer to donate to a cause I can see face to face.
I realize that some of the shams believe they are doing good. There was a Catholic priest in New York City who ran Covenant House, a shelter for runaway and street teens. We donated to his cause for years. Then the newspapers broke the story that the priest molested several runaways. He got thousands off the streets but became a sham when he kept a few for his own purposes.
Let's look at the exaggerators. I just finished reading Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson. I knew that Mortenson had been exposed for not keeping good records about the schools he built in Afghanistan. When CBS's Sixty Minutes sent a camera crew to many of the schools, they found many Mortenson claimed to have built never were constructed. Others were storage units for animal fodder. Millions poured into his Central Asia Institute, which is now under scrutiny. Great idea, good results when Mortenson was working small. But when he expanded, he lost control. His book is compelling. Too bad it's as much fiction as adoration. There must be facts there, but they are clouded by the facts.
I'll spare you my rant about politicians on this holiday eve. Oh, wait. Many fit all three categories. Especially when they are running for president. I may have to rethink sparing you the rant. That's material for another post on another day.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
He Sat Alone
He sat alone in a restaurant filled with friends and family honoring our veterans. Last night, he ate his free dinner slowly, measuring every bite. He drank nothing but coffee. He spoke with no one.
I watched him, wondering what his story was. He was neatly dressed in clean jeans, a shirt and zippered jacket. His hat rested on the bench seat beside him. Head and face shaved. I asked the restaurant manager if he knew anything about the man. "No, he's a veteran. He didn't want to sit with other vets, so I seated him alone."
Alone. Not on Veterans Day. But it was his wish. He could have been a Vietnam vet, but I didn't think so. He didn't look old enough. I passed by his table once, but he didn't glance up. Head down, he ate with complete concentration, lost in his thoughts. He paid for his coffee, asked for a go cup, and carefully dressed it with two creams and two sugars. He stirred, capped the cup, put on his hat and worked his way off the bench seat.
He passed our table. I asked him if I could shake his hand. He held it out. My husband and I thanked him for his service and asked which branch of the Armed Forces he'd called home. Air Force. Just like my Cold Warrior. Which base? Dover. And with that he nodded and walked slowly out of the restaurant, a black veteran alone in his own mind, his cup of hot coffee clutched in his hand.
I wonder what his story is.
I watched him, wondering what his story was. He was neatly dressed in clean jeans, a shirt and zippered jacket. His hat rested on the bench seat beside him. Head and face shaved. I asked the restaurant manager if he knew anything about the man. "No, he's a veteran. He didn't want to sit with other vets, so I seated him alone."
Alone. Not on Veterans Day. But it was his wish. He could have been a Vietnam vet, but I didn't think so. He didn't look old enough. I passed by his table once, but he didn't glance up. Head down, he ate with complete concentration, lost in his thoughts. He paid for his coffee, asked for a go cup, and carefully dressed it with two creams and two sugars. He stirred, capped the cup, put on his hat and worked his way off the bench seat.
He passed our table. I asked him if I could shake his hand. He held it out. My husband and I thanked him for his service and asked which branch of the Armed Forces he'd called home. Air Force. Just like my Cold Warrior. Which base? Dover. And with that he nodded and walked slowly out of the restaurant, a black veteran alone in his own mind, his cup of hot coffee clutched in his hand.
I wonder what his story is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)