With ten weeks until the U.S. presidential election, I think it's time for me to do what 'eventual nominee' Mitt Romney said regarding Senator Reid's claim that he hadn't paid income taxes for several years: "put up or shut up."
As my election analysis accuracy rate is just below a dismal 60%, I have limited credibility when it comes to predicting results. With very little to lose other than my dignity (who needs that, anyway?), I predicted that President Obama would be given his pink slip on November 6th. This prediction was made in September of last year, not out of a desire to see Obama defeated, but instead from my own need to avoid heartbreak when it actually happens.
(When Bush vs. Gore is your very first presidential election, you immediately learn to dismiss optimism in politics.)
Much has changed in the political landscape since September. The Republican scare tactics surrounding 'Obamacare' have run their course: Americans are anticipating the benefits from the program. Most everyone agrees that the economy is slowly (the term 'snail's pace' comes to mind) making progress. While the country isn't ready to give Obama credit for turning things around, most continue to recognize that he inherited the mess, a fact that Republicans just absolutely hate. The question: are these factors enough to forecast that the President will resume his job duties? The answer: no. But the odds are in his favor. Still, I am not changing my prediction. To do so and wind up with an Obama defeat may cause me significant heart damage, and I already have enough genetic reasons to be worried about that.
A lot could happen in the next two months, folks. There have been no debates yet, the RNC continues to rake up large amounts of dough and there's plenty of time for an "October surprise" from either side. So, instead of changing my overall forecast, I'll predict how the map will look either way on November 6th.
Presenting, for your interest and amusement, the next two blogs:
Crunch Time: Barack My World--Again
Crunch Time: The Mittiest of Victories
Monday, August 27, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
On a not-so-facetious note...
Earlier today, I made a facetious post on my Facebook page regarding Chick-fil-A's abhorrent policy--of promoting illiteracy and bad spelling. I was trying to lighten the public mood, as so many people seem to be up in arms about the recent controversy surrounding Chick-fil-A's support of anti-LGBT organizations.
Being a Gay guy, I guess I should be rallying hardcore against this company with its delicious waffle fries and a lemonade sweet enough to make one slap his own mother. Do I give Chick-fil-A my business? No. And I haven't for about fifteen months. That's my personal choice. Regardless, a part of me defends Chick-fil-A in this battle. And it is based on the same principle that causes me to defend Fred Phelps and his Wesboro Baptist Cult--err--Church:
Their freedom of speech.
Being a former "card-carrying member" of the American Civil Liberties Union (only 'former' because I got tired of being hounded by them for more money), I completely agree with their stance on this issue: cities like Chicago and Boston are wrong in their attempt to single out a company and, due to their belief system, attempt to deny them permission to operate their business where they choose.
While thousands of LGBT folks and myself appreciate that mayors and other civic leaders are speaking out on our behalf, I believe that this is an assault on free enterprise. These reactionary declarations against this one particular business amounts to skating on very thin Constitutional ice.
Chick-fil-A is not a public company, folks. It's not on the Stock Market Exchange, which means that it is free to do what a few select officers and shareholders want it to do. If the public doesn't like it, they don't have to patronize it. The Cathys have never made any attempt to mask Chick-fil-A as a business with opportunistic principles: if a fast-food business closes in observance of the Sabbath, I think that's a pretty good indicator that it is a Christian-owned and managed business. Truett and Dan Cathy make no apology for this--and frankly, I give them integrity points for sticking to their guns.
That doesn't mean that I agree with them. It is financially idiotic for a business to throw away the opportunity to earn more profit on any given day. It is also an absolutely moronic business decision for the head of a company to say anything other than "No comment" when asked about the company's stances on controversial issues. While Chick-fil-A is seeing its supporters out in full, bad publicity IS bad publicity. (Notice that you haven't heard a peep out of Wal-Mart on this issue.) If Chick-fil-A stuck to making waffle fries and sandwiches without rendering judgments on societal issues, they wouldn't be so knee-deep in chicken shit.
As American consumers, we have choices--in most cases, plenty of them. I don't begrudge anyone for eating at Chick-fil-A: it's their choice. The consumer has the right to be informed, though, and if a company or organization chooses to air its belief system, the public has the right to respond by continuing to frequent their place of business or go elsewhere. Wesboro Baptist Church probably isn't the best place for me to visit for my wedding needs: I know where I'm not wanted. Still, I'm not going to waltz in there and demand that Fred Phelps perform my ceremony. I would be infringing upon both him and his "church's" freedoms of speech and religion--and I would be wrong to do so.
Chick-fil-A and other businesses like it are ultimately going to be on the wrong side of history regarding same-sex marriage. Chick-fil-A does not support LGBT Equality, but the United States does not regulate the microphones of the businesses within its borders.
Discrimination is (and should be) un-American. ENDA (Employment Non-Discrimination Act) should definitely be passed in order to prevent firing based on sexual orientation. But limiting a business' participation in capitalism by telling it where it cannot operate and basing that decision solely on its controversial views?
That's un-American, too.
Being a Gay guy, I guess I should be rallying hardcore against this company with its delicious waffle fries and a lemonade sweet enough to make one slap his own mother. Do I give Chick-fil-A my business? No. And I haven't for about fifteen months. That's my personal choice. Regardless, a part of me defends Chick-fil-A in this battle. And it is based on the same principle that causes me to defend Fred Phelps and his Wesboro Baptist Cult--err--Church:
Their freedom of speech.
Being a former "card-carrying member" of the American Civil Liberties Union (only 'former' because I got tired of being hounded by them for more money), I completely agree with their stance on this issue: cities like Chicago and Boston are wrong in their attempt to single out a company and, due to their belief system, attempt to deny them permission to operate their business where they choose.
While thousands of LGBT folks and myself appreciate that mayors and other civic leaders are speaking out on our behalf, I believe that this is an assault on free enterprise. These reactionary declarations against this one particular business amounts to skating on very thin Constitutional ice.
Chick-fil-A is not a public company, folks. It's not on the Stock Market Exchange, which means that it is free to do what a few select officers and shareholders want it to do. If the public doesn't like it, they don't have to patronize it. The Cathys have never made any attempt to mask Chick-fil-A as a business with opportunistic principles: if a fast-food business closes in observance of the Sabbath, I think that's a pretty good indicator that it is a Christian-owned and managed business. Truett and Dan Cathy make no apology for this--and frankly, I give them integrity points for sticking to their guns.
That doesn't mean that I agree with them. It is financially idiotic for a business to throw away the opportunity to earn more profit on any given day. It is also an absolutely moronic business decision for the head of a company to say anything other than "No comment" when asked about the company's stances on controversial issues. While Chick-fil-A is seeing its supporters out in full, bad publicity IS bad publicity. (Notice that you haven't heard a peep out of Wal-Mart on this issue.) If Chick-fil-A stuck to making waffle fries and sandwiches without rendering judgments on societal issues, they wouldn't be so knee-deep in chicken shit.
As American consumers, we have choices--in most cases, plenty of them. I don't begrudge anyone for eating at Chick-fil-A: it's their choice. The consumer has the right to be informed, though, and if a company or organization chooses to air its belief system, the public has the right to respond by continuing to frequent their place of business or go elsewhere. Wesboro Baptist Church probably isn't the best place for me to visit for my wedding needs: I know where I'm not wanted. Still, I'm not going to waltz in there and demand that Fred Phelps perform my ceremony. I would be infringing upon both him and his "church's" freedoms of speech and religion--and I would be wrong to do so.
Chick-fil-A and other businesses like it are ultimately going to be on the wrong side of history regarding same-sex marriage. Chick-fil-A does not support LGBT Equality, but the United States does not regulate the microphones of the businesses within its borders.
Discrimination is (and should be) un-American. ENDA (Employment Non-Discrimination Act) should definitely be passed in order to prevent firing based on sexual orientation. But limiting a business' participation in capitalism by telling it where it cannot operate and basing that decision solely on its controversial views?
That's un-American, too.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Gutsy, Ballsy and--NEW!--Unapologetical Me.
Three amazing stories. All non-fiction:
1) I had just arrived to a social obligation after having made a few alterations to my online settings. A keen observer challenged me in public in such a way that one would've thought boxing gloves were in order: "So, why can't I see your status updates anymore?!" I detected a slight chill (think winds of Antarctica.)
2) The grocery store is virtually empty at 9:30, which is why I love shopping at that hour. Still, it is the Gayborhood. I almost literally run into a buddy (a former "Facebook Friend") with my shopping cart, who proceeds to engage me in a nice, lengthy chat that has me wondering if my yogurt will still be any good once I leave the store. Suddenly, two other 'Unfriended' buddies turn into our aisle and nearly stop dead in their tracks. I greet them with the same enthusiasm as I always have and expect that the four of us, who all know each other, will spend some time chatting just below the canned yams. But as one of the guys starts to initiate conversation, the other anxiously pulls him away and says, "We've got to go!" and they disappear. I'm not sure where the fire was.
3) As I'm headed to play softball, I take note of some folks in the bleachers whom I haven't seen in months. I've heard that they're extremely bitter about having been deleted from my 'Friends' list after my 'divorce'. Deciding to make light of the situation, I laugh and say something like, "I'd better watch out" and one of the guys practically screams, "Don't talk to us! You're pathetic!"
All true, folks. All true. What did you think after reading those stories? One of your thoughts was probably something to the effect of, "Damn. Matt deletes a lot of people. I think he has a problem." Another thought was probably something like, "Wow. People take being deleted way too seriously." And if you thought those things, you're absolutely correct--on both counts.
I have wanted to write a blog about deleting "Facebook Friends" for sometime, but knew that the social ramifications for such a blog could be damaging. And then I got to that beautiful place in my mind where I just didn't give a damn. A powerful realization entered my head: your real friends will never care whether or not they hold a place on your "Facebook Friends" list. They don't have to wonder about the place they hold in your heart and mind. Most of them knew that long before Mark Zuckerberg invaded the World.
A bit of background info: the inner (and sometimes external) pain of the end of my two-year relationship prompted me to delete most reminders of the ex whom I still--five months later--miss, love and enjoy. Not only did I delete pictures--I deleted his friends from my "List" as well. I had spent a great deal of time with a few of them while Chuck and I were together. But in the end--as it was in the beginning--they were his friends. It's a fine line.
The months since our breakup have been rough. So far, my thirtieth year has not been kind. I have gone through some incredible personal hells and realities, the majority of which I have kept off of Facebook. Being tight-lipped really isn't my style, but here's a newsflash: we, as humans, are nosy and we gossip (notice I said, "we.") I'm not above it, but I try to limit it--especially when I don't know if it's true. I didn't want to broadcast a lot of my goings-on because, frankly, I knew that doing so might as well make it a feature article on page three of the New York Times. However, most of the "Facebook Friends" whom I have deleted are not horrible people. 85% of them would likely get a hug from me if we met on the street and I'd probably buy them hot chocolate. Three-fourths of that 85% would probably qualify for marshmallows with the hot chocolate. The other 15% have been deleted for more sinister or--at the least--irritating, petty reasons. Again--I am above nothing.
What makes the people whom I keep on my Facebook so special, you might ask? Well, that reason varies. Geographic proximity certainly doesn't matter: I estimate that 40% of my "Facebook Friends" don't even live within 500 miles of me. Some folks make status updates that are uplifting and make me smile. Some folks post naughty things that I find funny. Some folks know how to banter with me. Some "Facebook Friends" make my heart glad by the mere sight of their profile pic. Some I want to keep up with. Some I want to (or have had) sex with. Some were part of a wonderful time, place (or night, even!) in my life and I take comfort from that, if only virtually. All of them are exceptional people--but so are all of my friends who aren't my "Facebook Friends". I have come to peace with my "Facebook Friends" and "Unfriending" due to some very simple logic:
If you do not (or have not) taken a personal, one-on-one interest in my life outside of Facebook, your right to view what I post online is negligable. I prefer close friends offline; people of strong resolve who could take or leave their "Friend" designation on a social networking site. Revealing is the "Unfriended"--who reacts with venom. For, in such a moment, that person's true colors are shown--and their reaction has less to do with what kind of person you are. Their reaction is merely derived from the fact that you have eliminated their perceived, Information Age-granted right...to be nosy.
And therein lies my problem: I refuse to restrict my words, photos, check-ins and whatnots to a special list within a list. I have decided that keeping a low number of "Facebook Friends" remedies that problem. Regarding how people view Facebook, their "Friends" list and being "Unfriended", the answer is yes: it is taken too seriously.
Obviously. :)
1) I had just arrived to a social obligation after having made a few alterations to my online settings. A keen observer challenged me in public in such a way that one would've thought boxing gloves were in order: "So, why can't I see your status updates anymore?!" I detected a slight chill (think winds of Antarctica.)
2) The grocery store is virtually empty at 9:30, which is why I love shopping at that hour. Still, it is the Gayborhood. I almost literally run into a buddy (a former "Facebook Friend") with my shopping cart, who proceeds to engage me in a nice, lengthy chat that has me wondering if my yogurt will still be any good once I leave the store. Suddenly, two other 'Unfriended' buddies turn into our aisle and nearly stop dead in their tracks. I greet them with the same enthusiasm as I always have and expect that the four of us, who all know each other, will spend some time chatting just below the canned yams. But as one of the guys starts to initiate conversation, the other anxiously pulls him away and says, "We've got to go!" and they disappear. I'm not sure where the fire was.
3) As I'm headed to play softball, I take note of some folks in the bleachers whom I haven't seen in months. I've heard that they're extremely bitter about having been deleted from my 'Friends' list after my 'divorce'. Deciding to make light of the situation, I laugh and say something like, "I'd better watch out" and one of the guys practically screams, "Don't talk to us! You're pathetic!"
All true, folks. All true. What did you think after reading those stories? One of your thoughts was probably something to the effect of, "Damn. Matt deletes a lot of people. I think he has a problem." Another thought was probably something like, "Wow. People take being deleted way too seriously." And if you thought those things, you're absolutely correct--on both counts.
I have wanted to write a blog about deleting "Facebook Friends" for sometime, but knew that the social ramifications for such a blog could be damaging. And then I got to that beautiful place in my mind where I just didn't give a damn. A powerful realization entered my head: your real friends will never care whether or not they hold a place on your "Facebook Friends" list. They don't have to wonder about the place they hold in your heart and mind. Most of them knew that long before Mark Zuckerberg invaded the World.
A bit of background info: the inner (and sometimes external) pain of the end of my two-year relationship prompted me to delete most reminders of the ex whom I still--five months later--miss, love and enjoy. Not only did I delete pictures--I deleted his friends from my "List" as well. I had spent a great deal of time with a few of them while Chuck and I were together. But in the end--as it was in the beginning--they were his friends. It's a fine line.
The months since our breakup have been rough. So far, my thirtieth year has not been kind. I have gone through some incredible personal hells and realities, the majority of which I have kept off of Facebook. Being tight-lipped really isn't my style, but here's a newsflash: we, as humans, are nosy and we gossip (notice I said, "we.") I'm not above it, but I try to limit it--especially when I don't know if it's true. I didn't want to broadcast a lot of my goings-on because, frankly, I knew that doing so might as well make it a feature article on page three of the New York Times. However, most of the "Facebook Friends" whom I have deleted are not horrible people. 85% of them would likely get a hug from me if we met on the street and I'd probably buy them hot chocolate. Three-fourths of that 85% would probably qualify for marshmallows with the hot chocolate. The other 15% have been deleted for more sinister or--at the least--irritating, petty reasons. Again--I am above nothing.
What makes the people whom I keep on my Facebook so special, you might ask? Well, that reason varies. Geographic proximity certainly doesn't matter: I estimate that 40% of my "Facebook Friends" don't even live within 500 miles of me. Some folks make status updates that are uplifting and make me smile. Some folks post naughty things that I find funny. Some folks know how to banter with me. Some "Facebook Friends" make my heart glad by the mere sight of their profile pic. Some I want to keep up with. Some I want to (or have had) sex with. Some were part of a wonderful time, place (or night, even!) in my life and I take comfort from that, if only virtually. All of them are exceptional people--but so are all of my friends who aren't my "Facebook Friends". I have come to peace with my "Facebook Friends" and "Unfriending" due to some very simple logic:
If you do not (or have not) taken a personal, one-on-one interest in my life outside of Facebook, your right to view what I post online is negligable. I prefer close friends offline; people of strong resolve who could take or leave their "Friend" designation on a social networking site. Revealing is the "Unfriended"--who reacts with venom. For, in such a moment, that person's true colors are shown--and their reaction has less to do with what kind of person you are. Their reaction is merely derived from the fact that you have eliminated their perceived, Information Age-granted right...to be nosy.
And therein lies my problem: I refuse to restrict my words, photos, check-ins and whatnots to a special list within a list. I have decided that keeping a low number of "Facebook Friends" remedies that problem. Regarding how people view Facebook, their "Friends" list and being "Unfriended", the answer is yes: it is taken too seriously.
Obviously. :)
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
"...and the dream shall never die."
Today was an odd day. Barely awake and dressed, I jumped on Facebook (a problem of mine) to discover the unsettling news of the North Carolina ban on Marriage Equality, Happiness, etc., etc. A dear friend's thought-provoking video rant placed me in a near-possessed state as I drove to work, without music, without too much attention to the traffic (dangerous, much?) and with thoughts moving rather rapidly from sadness to frustration to anger.
I hadn't been that angry in quite a while (ten days, tops) and I spent most of the morning doing my routine job tasks, thinking all the while about the rage that was simmering just below the surface of my already-thin (but thickening, thanks to medication) skin. As angry as I was, I couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was that had set me off. Was it the knowledge that yet another state had outlawed not only my right to first-class citizenship, but forbade any legal non-marriage recognition, period? Was it the resentment from thinking about how I, as a non-Christian, am constantly subjected to laws directly from the teachings of the Bible--a manuscript that I, as an American citizen, do not hold as sacred in context? Was it my annoyance at myself for actually thinking that a once-upon-a-time Confederate state just might avoid passing such an overt, blatantly discriminatory measure? Was it the fact that I consider it beneath my dignity to have a bunch of divorced, adulterous, self-righteous and/or bigoted assholes deciding not to "allow" my potential Happiness when the hypocritical reality was that they were no more deserving than I? Or was it the reminder that the United States, this beautiful land of my birth, is so incredibly slow to change, having fought to keep slavery, having fought against racial Equality, having fought against gender Equality, having fought against anything remotely alien to Straight, White, Privileged Power? Finally, I realized my answer...
All. Of. The. Above.
After I moved through my initial brief phase of wanting to a) move to Canada b) risk a prison sentence for driving to North Carolina and assaulting the first jerk who looked at me funny and c) emotionally shake every Straight, Married person that I encountered, by crying, in Nancy Kerrigan form, "Why?! Why?! Why?!", the ever-increasingly calm, cool and collected Matt arrived on the scene (thanks, yet again, to medication.)
Cocky, but not to the point of shrugging off the issue, I reminded myself that the people who have fought so hard against this unbelievable, unjust punishment are the same type of people who fought every other socially-progressive advancement in our nation's history. And I rationalized, to the point of inner peace, that more often than not--they lost. Whether it was a healthy dose of Karma or the final coming-around of legal and common sense, the bullies, the self-righteous and the hatemongers lost. Despite what happened in North Carolina, they're losing now. And somehow, I sense that they know it.
Stepping away from the unfolding drama, I buried myself in my work, but I couldn't stay away for long. Something happened this afternoon that reinforced my earlier conclusions. Just one minute after the story broke, I saw that President Obama had become the first sitting President of the United States to publicly express his support for Marriage Equality. From that, my mood shifted from rationalization and calm to a "happy warrior" fighting mode, best summed up in two words:
"Take that."
Barack Obama's timing or motivation wasn't lost on me, as I have been a political junkie for far too long. But I accepted my own cynicism and acknowledged what matters the most: just less than half of my fellow countrywomen and men may not have my back on this--but my President does. I think he always has. I give him kudos for the obvious statement of support in an election year on such a sensitive moment--and on such a divisive issue. The President's shrewd, yet more-transparent-than-he-thinks political manuevering has, at times, obstructed my otherwise Liberally-influenced, liberally-dispersed support of him. However, in that moment, Barack Obama reinforced to me and so many other open-minded Americans (as he intended) that he is the right person in the right office at the right moment. The President took a giant group of disenfranchised, disappointed, enraged citizens and turned them into a hopeful, awe-inspired army, beaten temporarily but permanently winning. And he did that in less than sixteen hours. That's my Commander-in-Chief.
Unfortunately, I continue to doubt that he will hold that title this time next year. While I revere and respect President Obama now more than ever, I believe that his support of this extremely important issue has fired up not only "my army"--but a completely different one as well. I believe that they will beat him. It may not be significant margin of defeat, but I think that the President's gamble will backfire on him. He will likely go down in history as a one-term President. But as long as my heart beats, he'll stay there as the one national leader who took the action that meant the most. Perhaps that courage and significance wont be lost on others who already had their reservations. Perhaps it will change a mind or two.
Regardless of how history will view this moment as the precursor to Obama's re-election victory or his political suicide at an early age, the words of Senator Ted Kennedy following his narrow 1980 Democratic Presidential Primary defeat couldn't ring more true today. Syrupy? Sure. Appropriate? Absolutely:
"For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."
Right, Ted.
Right, Mr. President.
I hadn't been that angry in quite a while (ten days, tops) and I spent most of the morning doing my routine job tasks, thinking all the while about the rage that was simmering just below the surface of my already-thin (but thickening, thanks to medication) skin. As angry as I was, I couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was that had set me off. Was it the knowledge that yet another state had outlawed not only my right to first-class citizenship, but forbade any legal non-marriage recognition, period? Was it the resentment from thinking about how I, as a non-Christian, am constantly subjected to laws directly from the teachings of the Bible--a manuscript that I, as an American citizen, do not hold as sacred in context? Was it my annoyance at myself for actually thinking that a once-upon-a-time Confederate state just might avoid passing such an overt, blatantly discriminatory measure? Was it the fact that I consider it beneath my dignity to have a bunch of divorced, adulterous, self-righteous and/or bigoted assholes deciding not to "allow" my potential Happiness when the hypocritical reality was that they were no more deserving than I? Or was it the reminder that the United States, this beautiful land of my birth, is so incredibly slow to change, having fought to keep slavery, having fought against racial Equality, having fought against gender Equality, having fought against anything remotely alien to Straight, White, Privileged Power? Finally, I realized my answer...
All. Of. The. Above.
After I moved through my initial brief phase of wanting to a) move to Canada b) risk a prison sentence for driving to North Carolina and assaulting the first jerk who looked at me funny and c) emotionally shake every Straight, Married person that I encountered, by crying, in Nancy Kerrigan form, "Why?! Why?! Why?!", the ever-increasingly calm, cool and collected Matt arrived on the scene (thanks, yet again, to medication.)
Cocky, but not to the point of shrugging off the issue, I reminded myself that the people who have fought so hard against this unbelievable, unjust punishment are the same type of people who fought every other socially-progressive advancement in our nation's history. And I rationalized, to the point of inner peace, that more often than not--they lost. Whether it was a healthy dose of Karma or the final coming-around of legal and common sense, the bullies, the self-righteous and the hatemongers lost. Despite what happened in North Carolina, they're losing now. And somehow, I sense that they know it.
Stepping away from the unfolding drama, I buried myself in my work, but I couldn't stay away for long. Something happened this afternoon that reinforced my earlier conclusions. Just one minute after the story broke, I saw that President Obama had become the first sitting President of the United States to publicly express his support for Marriage Equality. From that, my mood shifted from rationalization and calm to a "happy warrior" fighting mode, best summed up in two words:
"Take that."
Barack Obama's timing or motivation wasn't lost on me, as I have been a political junkie for far too long. But I accepted my own cynicism and acknowledged what matters the most: just less than half of my fellow countrywomen and men may not have my back on this--but my President does. I think he always has. I give him kudos for the obvious statement of support in an election year on such a sensitive moment--and on such a divisive issue. The President's shrewd, yet more-transparent-than-he-thinks political manuevering has, at times, obstructed my otherwise Liberally-influenced, liberally-dispersed support of him. However, in that moment, Barack Obama reinforced to me and so many other open-minded Americans (as he intended) that he is the right person in the right office at the right moment. The President took a giant group of disenfranchised, disappointed, enraged citizens and turned them into a hopeful, awe-inspired army, beaten temporarily but permanently winning. And he did that in less than sixteen hours. That's my Commander-in-Chief.
Unfortunately, I continue to doubt that he will hold that title this time next year. While I revere and respect President Obama now more than ever, I believe that his support of this extremely important issue has fired up not only "my army"--but a completely different one as well. I believe that they will beat him. It may not be significant margin of defeat, but I think that the President's gamble will backfire on him. He will likely go down in history as a one-term President. But as long as my heart beats, he'll stay there as the one national leader who took the action that meant the most. Perhaps that courage and significance wont be lost on others who already had their reservations. Perhaps it will change a mind or two.
Regardless of how history will view this moment as the precursor to Obama's re-election victory or his political suicide at an early age, the words of Senator Ted Kennedy following his narrow 1980 Democratic Presidential Primary defeat couldn't ring more true today. Syrupy? Sure. Appropriate? Absolutely:
"For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."
Right, Ted.
Right, Mr. President.
Monday, March 26, 2012
The Civil War in Kentucky--again.
Sports lovers and bored people alike will be watching the University of Kentucky and the University of Louisville's men's basketball teams as they face off in the Final Four in New Orleans this coming Saturday. For most viewers nationwide, this will be an interesting game to watch as both UK and UofL are located in the same state. Those of us who live in Kentucky, however, do not only find it 'interesting'.
We find it a little frightening.
The largest universities in our fair state have never played each other in this tournament, so it's a very big deal. Non-Kentucky residents across the country will be sitting in New Orleans and in front of their televisions, enjoying a game and thinking nothing of the consequences of victory. Yet, because "fan" is short for "fanatic", Bluegrass State residents are nervously preparing for the following:
-Vandalism reports will increase 1200% statewide--from the previous day.
-More health insurance claims will be filed Saturday--than on July 4th.
-Kentucky employers will see increases in verbal altercations in the workplace.
-UK supporters living in Louisville will suffer from societal withdrawal, as will
the three or four UofL supporters residing in Lexington.
This brings me to my point. To those non-Kentucky resident game viewers, this first time ever battle may seem like a normal Final Four skirmish. And they couldn't be further from the truth. This game isn't about the six or seven foot something or-other mammoth guys running around on a floor, dribbling a ball. This game underscores a battle that has been going on for no fewer than two centuries. This, my friends, is the Battle of The City of Lexington vs. The City of Louisville.
Kentucky's two largest cities have never gotten along. Ask lifelong Louisvillians about their neighbor to the east, and they'll imply that she's a whiny, uppity, spoiled-rotten child who wont shut up. Ask lifelong Lexingtonians about their neighbor to the west and they'll imply that she's a loud, trashy skank who can't even pronounce her own name correctly. To some effect, they're both right.
The cities are as different as day and night. I was surprised to learn that, in 1958, Lexington enacted the nation's first ever Urban Growth Boundary, creating an abrupt end to construction and industry where horse pastures and plank fencing begin. Louisville, on the other hand, sprawled out in all directions. Louisville dealt with its congestion in the 1970s and 80s by building and expanding the Gene Snyder Freeway, which makes getting around the city relatively easy. "The Ville" probably learned something from Lexington, whose notorious 1960s New Circle Road construction--was, in my father's words, a "monument to poor urban planning." (A big part of New Circle Road bypasses absolutely nothing.) Lexington/Fayette County's 1974 merger was ahead of its time. The merger of Louisville and Jefferson County didn't happen until a quarter of a century later. Louisville likes to pride itself on its nightlife and often flashy, usually expensive structures and publicly-funded projects, while Lexington prefers you to find a nice glass of sweet tea, look at the horses and enjoy the fact that you're less likely to get murdered or burglarized there. These differences--some small, some large--have made their way onto the basketball court.
If you don't believe me, take into account the public perception of Coach Rick Pitino, who, from 1989-97, coached UK men's basketball. When he coached the Cats, he was Saint Rick to Lexingtonians and an Italian Hitler to Louisvillians. Fast-forward to 2001 when he began coaching at UofL. Suddenly, Pitino was the anti-Christ and no longer welcome in Lexington--while he was practically given the key to the city of Louisville (perhaps he was, I don't know. He was certainly given a nice, secluded booth at one of our local restaurants. Ouch. Moving on...)
On Saturday, this native Kentuckian proudly supports the greatest basketball team in Kentucky: both of them. I am part of an unnoticed but very large group of citizens who likes the fact that for one brief, shining moment, Kentucky gets recognition for something positive, instead of being known for having some of the poorest counties in the U.S. and being one of the fattest, most 'smoky' (and we're not talking barbecue) states in the country. We don't care which team claims victory; we view it as a small victory for Kentucky. Call us a majority of the 'silent' type, if you will.
The die-hard fans of the winning/losing teams on Saturday will be anything but.
We find it a little frightening.
The largest universities in our fair state have never played each other in this tournament, so it's a very big deal. Non-Kentucky residents across the country will be sitting in New Orleans and in front of their televisions, enjoying a game and thinking nothing of the consequences of victory. Yet, because "fan" is short for "fanatic", Bluegrass State residents are nervously preparing for the following:
-Vandalism reports will increase 1200% statewide--from the previous day.
-More health insurance claims will be filed Saturday--than on July 4th.
-Kentucky employers will see increases in verbal altercations in the workplace.
-UK supporters living in Louisville will suffer from societal withdrawal, as will
the three or four UofL supporters residing in Lexington.
This brings me to my point. To those non-Kentucky resident game viewers, this first time ever battle may seem like a normal Final Four skirmish. And they couldn't be further from the truth. This game isn't about the six or seven foot something or-other mammoth guys running around on a floor, dribbling a ball. This game underscores a battle that has been going on for no fewer than two centuries. This, my friends, is the Battle of The City of Lexington vs. The City of Louisville.
Kentucky's two largest cities have never gotten along. Ask lifelong Louisvillians about their neighbor to the east, and they'll imply that she's a whiny, uppity, spoiled-rotten child who wont shut up. Ask lifelong Lexingtonians about their neighbor to the west and they'll imply that she's a loud, trashy skank who can't even pronounce her own name correctly. To some effect, they're both right.
The cities are as different as day and night. I was surprised to learn that, in 1958, Lexington enacted the nation's first ever Urban Growth Boundary, creating an abrupt end to construction and industry where horse pastures and plank fencing begin. Louisville, on the other hand, sprawled out in all directions. Louisville dealt with its congestion in the 1970s and 80s by building and expanding the Gene Snyder Freeway, which makes getting around the city relatively easy. "The Ville" probably learned something from Lexington, whose notorious 1960s New Circle Road construction--was, in my father's words, a "monument to poor urban planning." (A big part of New Circle Road bypasses absolutely nothing.) Lexington/Fayette County's 1974 merger was ahead of its time. The merger of Louisville and Jefferson County didn't happen until a quarter of a century later. Louisville likes to pride itself on its nightlife and often flashy, usually expensive structures and publicly-funded projects, while Lexington prefers you to find a nice glass of sweet tea, look at the horses and enjoy the fact that you're less likely to get murdered or burglarized there. These differences--some small, some large--have made their way onto the basketball court.
If you don't believe me, take into account the public perception of Coach Rick Pitino, who, from 1989-97, coached UK men's basketball. When he coached the Cats, he was Saint Rick to Lexingtonians and an Italian Hitler to Louisvillians. Fast-forward to 2001 when he began coaching at UofL. Suddenly, Pitino was the anti-Christ and no longer welcome in Lexington--while he was practically given the key to the city of Louisville (perhaps he was, I don't know. He was certainly given a nice, secluded booth at one of our local restaurants. Ouch. Moving on...)
On Saturday, this native Kentuckian proudly supports the greatest basketball team in Kentucky: both of them. I am part of an unnoticed but very large group of citizens who likes the fact that for one brief, shining moment, Kentucky gets recognition for something positive, instead of being known for having some of the poorest counties in the U.S. and being one of the fattest, most 'smoky' (and we're not talking barbecue) states in the country. We don't care which team claims victory; we view it as a small victory for Kentucky. Call us a majority of the 'silent' type, if you will.
The die-hard fans of the winning/losing teams on Saturday will be anything but.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Analyzing Super Tuesday...and keeping my day job.
Perhaps you should stick with Politico.com or a well-known poll if you want predictions of correct election results. True, my 58% accurate prediction rate implies that I got more right than wrong, but in school, 58% earns a student an 'F'. Reminds me of high school Algebra classes. Anyway...
My foremost prediction that Super Tuesday wouldn't clear up a darned thing--was absolutely right. No one really came out of last night's ten primaries/caucuses as the winner. On the surface, Mitt Romney picked up six states, Santorum came away with three and Gingrich won his home state of Georgia (which, I must admit--is not Newt's native state like I previously alleged. He was actually born in PA.) Still, the victory margins weren't what they needed to be--especially for front-runner Mitt.
Last night's surprises included Romney's win in Alaska, even if it wasn't by much. Ron Paul garnered 24% of the vote there, compared to Santorum's 29%--and I thought Paul would've fared better in the Last Frontier.
Santorum surprised me by not doing better in Georgia, where I figured his socially conservative message would've held more sway. (Still, he is a Yankee.) Romney came in 2nd place here, but with Gingrich's 21% victory margin, I wouldn't call it a competitive race.
Ohio was a rough call to make, but just as in neighboring Michigan, Romney has no reason to be cocky. He won by 1%. Romney did well with urban/suburban Republicans, but the Buckeye State results add to the trend of his inability to connect with the rural voter.
Yet, I didn't expect Romney to do as well as he did in Tennessee. Sure, he lost 1st place by a 9% margin, but his 2nd place win over Newt's speaks to growing problems for Gingrich. The one Tennessee county that Gingrich won neighbors his former Congressional district in Georgia.
Romney's problems with rural voters extended to western Virginia, where Ron Paul won five counties--some by handy margins. Romney's 60% to Paul's 40% may seem like overwhelming support for Mitt, but I question whether Romney would've won VA at all had Gingrich and Santorum gotten their act together in time to qualify for the ballot. 40% of the vote is a lot for a candidate like Paul, who usually receives 25% at best.
Santorum has demonstrated that he will continue to be a pain in the ass for Front-Runner Mitt and Crusader Gingrich. Both of these candidates--especially Gingrich--should out-maneuver Santorum as much as possible in the upcoming states of Kansas, Alabama, Mississippi, Missouri, Illinois and Louisiana. At least one candidate needs to withdraw his candidacy in the next few weeks, or the GOP faces some serious problems. I continue to predict that Newt will be the first to go. If he can't win or do well in any of those states, he'll have no chance for recovery in April, a month dominated by primaries/caucuses in the North and West that will favor Romney or Santorum.
Still, no one wants to be the April Fool.
My foremost prediction that Super Tuesday wouldn't clear up a darned thing--was absolutely right. No one really came out of last night's ten primaries/caucuses as the winner. On the surface, Mitt Romney picked up six states, Santorum came away with three and Gingrich won his home state of Georgia (which, I must admit--is not Newt's native state like I previously alleged. He was actually born in PA.) Still, the victory margins weren't what they needed to be--especially for front-runner Mitt.
Last night's surprises included Romney's win in Alaska, even if it wasn't by much. Ron Paul garnered 24% of the vote there, compared to Santorum's 29%--and I thought Paul would've fared better in the Last Frontier.
Santorum surprised me by not doing better in Georgia, where I figured his socially conservative message would've held more sway. (Still, he is a Yankee.) Romney came in 2nd place here, but with Gingrich's 21% victory margin, I wouldn't call it a competitive race.
Ohio was a rough call to make, but just as in neighboring Michigan, Romney has no reason to be cocky. He won by 1%. Romney did well with urban/suburban Republicans, but the Buckeye State results add to the trend of his inability to connect with the rural voter.
Yet, I didn't expect Romney to do as well as he did in Tennessee. Sure, he lost 1st place by a 9% margin, but his 2nd place win over Newt's speaks to growing problems for Gingrich. The one Tennessee county that Gingrich won neighbors his former Congressional district in Georgia.
Romney's problems with rural voters extended to western Virginia, where Ron Paul won five counties--some by handy margins. Romney's 60% to Paul's 40% may seem like overwhelming support for Mitt, but I question whether Romney would've won VA at all had Gingrich and Santorum gotten their act together in time to qualify for the ballot. 40% of the vote is a lot for a candidate like Paul, who usually receives 25% at best.
Santorum has demonstrated that he will continue to be a pain in the ass for Front-Runner Mitt and Crusader Gingrich. Both of these candidates--especially Gingrich--should out-maneuver Santorum as much as possible in the upcoming states of Kansas, Alabama, Mississippi, Missouri, Illinois and Louisiana. At least one candidate needs to withdraw his candidacy in the next few weeks, or the GOP faces some serious problems. I continue to predict that Newt will be the first to go. If he can't win or do well in any of those states, he'll have no chance for recovery in April, a month dominated by primaries/caucuses in the North and West that will favor Romney or Santorum.
Still, no one wants to be the April Fool.
Monday, March 5, 2012
"It's a Newt! It's a Plane! It's Super Tuesday!"
Several weeks ago, I made some predictions on the Republican Presidential primary battle. Most of them proved questionable, at best. For example, if things had gone the way I predicted, Rick Santorum would be writing his memoirs and keeping up with his five kids in Pennsylvania and not criss-crossing the country with growing support. I told you to watch out for Ron Paul. Although the Texas Congressman has yet to win a single primary, some of his recent placement has been respectable. I advised you to monitor the rise of Newt Gingrich, who has nearly disappeared from the race.
Still, I didn't do half-bad at being the Miss Cleo of American presidential politics. I predicted that Romney will be the 'eventual nominee', and he continues to be the front-runner, picking up meaningful endorsements and delegates. I predicted that Rick Perry would do well as long as he kept his mouth shut. Perry turned into an inarticulate yutz and we no longer have to worry about Round Two: Texas Governor in the White House.
Politics is not easy to digest and is even more uncomfortable to predict. As we've seen with the rise and falls of Sarah Palin and Herman Cain: anything can happen (and not happen.) But as long as there are educated, professional politicians, there will be educated, professional advisers, pollsters and psychics.
Super Tuesday is upon us. Since 1984, it has been a climactic, deciding moment in Presidential politics. Unfortunately, no one thinks that the ten states holding Republican caucuses/primaries that day will confirm much of anything this year. Think of Super Tuesday in a Groundhog's Day mentality: unless one nominee does great that day and everyone else eventually drops out, you'll have to put up with six-plus more weeks of crap. Onward with predictions. Do not be afraid: you will not be charged $1.99 per minute:
Alaska just might be the site of a first win for Ron Paul. If not Paul, Santorum wins here.
Georgia loves Newt--and likes Santorum. Look for Romney to do poorly in the Peach State.
Idaho Mormons will support Romney and win the state for him. Paul will do nicely here as well.
Massachusetts will come out in support of ex-Gov. Mitt. Santorum gets a very distant 2nd.
North Dakota gives a shout-out to Santorum. Romney in 2nd place--not sure how distant.
Ohio is a tough, but vital nut to crack. I predict a hair-splitting win for Santorum. Think Iowa.
Oklahoma gives 1st place to Santorum. Gingrich might not be far off here.
Tennessee goes for Santorum with Newt possibly placing 2nd.
Vermont rallies for its New England neighbor Romney. Santorum finishes a distant 2nd.
Virginia unenthusiastically goes for Romney, since Gingrich and Santorum failed to get on the ballot.
"So what does it all mean?", you ask? It means that someone needs to drop the hell out. Romney will have plenty of reasons (namely Idaho, Massachusetts, Vermont and Virginia) to crack open a nice bottled water since he theologically can't have any caffeine. Still, victories in other places (North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma and Tennessee) will prompt Santorum to sit back and enjoy a can of Dr. Pepper or whatever he does for fun (I can't imagine.) The only revelations that political junkies like myself will gleam from Tuesday night's results are bigger insights on who needs to drop out and how quickly they need to do it.
Newt's got problems. Santorum is majorly tapping into an electorate that Gingrich has been depending on ever since he declared his candicacy. Newt's second place in Tennessee won't look good and if he places third, his campaign will need to think about calling in a priest to perform the last rites. Newt's performance in Georgia will also be telling: he needs a solid victory to win his native state. If Santorum gets more than 20% of the vote in Georgia, Newt will seriously need to consider calling it quits. After Tuesday, Newt's chances depend solely on the South, and if Santorum wins--or even does well--in the upcoming states of Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana, Newt will be finished by the first of April.
One final prediction: this race will not go to the Convention. Media hype loves to drag it out, but people-in-the-political-know understand that the longer they argue, the more fractured and disorganized they appear. The last time that a fight went all the way to the Convention was in 1976 when incumbent President Ford just barely squeaked by the challenge of then-former California Governor Reagan. The result? Democrat Jimmy Carter's inauguration in 1977.
That should be enough to scare the GOP into figuring this out.
Still, I didn't do half-bad at being the Miss Cleo of American presidential politics. I predicted that Romney will be the 'eventual nominee', and he continues to be the front-runner, picking up meaningful endorsements and delegates. I predicted that Rick Perry would do well as long as he kept his mouth shut. Perry turned into an inarticulate yutz and we no longer have to worry about Round Two: Texas Governor in the White House.
Politics is not easy to digest and is even more uncomfortable to predict. As we've seen with the rise and falls of Sarah Palin and Herman Cain: anything can happen (and not happen.) But as long as there are educated, professional politicians, there will be educated, professional advisers, pollsters and psychics.
Super Tuesday is upon us. Since 1984, it has been a climactic, deciding moment in Presidential politics. Unfortunately, no one thinks that the ten states holding Republican caucuses/primaries that day will confirm much of anything this year. Think of Super Tuesday in a Groundhog's Day mentality: unless one nominee does great that day and everyone else eventually drops out, you'll have to put up with six-plus more weeks of crap. Onward with predictions. Do not be afraid: you will not be charged $1.99 per minute:
Alaska just might be the site of a first win for Ron Paul. If not Paul, Santorum wins here.
Georgia loves Newt--and likes Santorum. Look for Romney to do poorly in the Peach State.
Idaho Mormons will support Romney and win the state for him. Paul will do nicely here as well.
Massachusetts will come out in support of ex-Gov. Mitt. Santorum gets a very distant 2nd.
North Dakota gives a shout-out to Santorum. Romney in 2nd place--not sure how distant.
Ohio is a tough, but vital nut to crack. I predict a hair-splitting win for Santorum. Think Iowa.
Oklahoma gives 1st place to Santorum. Gingrich might not be far off here.
Tennessee goes for Santorum with Newt possibly placing 2nd.
Vermont rallies for its New England neighbor Romney. Santorum finishes a distant 2nd.
Virginia unenthusiastically goes for Romney, since Gingrich and Santorum failed to get on the ballot.
"So what does it all mean?", you ask? It means that someone needs to drop the hell out. Romney will have plenty of reasons (namely Idaho, Massachusetts, Vermont and Virginia) to crack open a nice bottled water since he theologically can't have any caffeine. Still, victories in other places (North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma and Tennessee) will prompt Santorum to sit back and enjoy a can of Dr. Pepper or whatever he does for fun (I can't imagine.) The only revelations that political junkies like myself will gleam from Tuesday night's results are bigger insights on who needs to drop out and how quickly they need to do it.
Newt's got problems. Santorum is majorly tapping into an electorate that Gingrich has been depending on ever since he declared his candicacy. Newt's second place in Tennessee won't look good and if he places third, his campaign will need to think about calling in a priest to perform the last rites. Newt's performance in Georgia will also be telling: he needs a solid victory to win his native state. If Santorum gets more than 20% of the vote in Georgia, Newt will seriously need to consider calling it quits. After Tuesday, Newt's chances depend solely on the South, and if Santorum wins--or even does well--in the upcoming states of Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana, Newt will be finished by the first of April.
One final prediction: this race will not go to the Convention. Media hype loves to drag it out, but people-in-the-political-know understand that the longer they argue, the more fractured and disorganized they appear. The last time that a fight went all the way to the Convention was in 1976 when incumbent President Ford just barely squeaked by the challenge of then-former California Governor Reagan. The result? Democrat Jimmy Carter's inauguration in 1977.
That should be enough to scare the GOP into figuring this out.
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