Travis McGee votes

I am Travis McGee today and a committed, decided voter, convinced that the oval I blacken makes a difference.

It is vainglorious, but it is good for the soul to scour the rust from the tin-plate  armour, adjust the cookpot helmet, mount my pathetic Rocinante, swaybacked, galled  and, like me I fear, something of a redundancy in this Brave New World.

I am off to tilt me the Hell out of a quasi-American Windmill. May my bent lance lodge between the blades -- stopping them cold -- of narcissism, revenge, contrived drama, and a lust for those glorious days when Lenin was still respectable, the days when all that was deemed good was deemed collective. Collective planning. Collective work. Collective reward. Collective guilt. Or, as the Windmill huffs it: "Forward." Or, sometimes, "You didn't build this."

Which is to say that I take my little vote seriously, almost ceremoniously.  I will shower and closely shave, dress neatly, and enter the polling place as a first sergeant enters the company barracks.

But sadly I will still be thinking of the corollary decision. Against the sitting ruler, certainly, but for whom?

My state is close. The historically best poll calls it His Ineptness by five, meaning I should feel free to cast an honest libertarian vote. Other polls have it closer. Meaning that I should choose the quasi-Republican.

I suspect the decision won't come until the pencil hovers over the paper. I may or may not report it, but you'll be able to figure it out if you happen to be around  Smugleye-on-Lake voting central.

If for Mr. Johnson, I'll walk out whistling a happy tune as I stride off to round up a few election-gathering supplies for this evening.

If for Mr. Romney, I'll slink home, futilely trying to persuade myself  that I am a hero of the fighting retreat, but feeling badly in need of another shower.

The wisest of the wise

Lindsey Graham just told MSNBC that if Romney loses it is for "just one reason -- demographics."

Man, you just can't fool a United States senator. Or a crack political analyst like Chuck Todd who treated the Lindsey revelation as a profound, eerrrrr, revelation, like, y'know, from Mount Sinai.

---

Richard J. Daley of Chicago: When people are out of work unemployment results.

Marry me, Peggy?

Every now and then I forget that Peggy Noonan likes the concept of government a little too much. Usually, I forget it when she writes about the pretensions of its posturing nabobs.  Lately, of course, the poseur-in-chief  has most suffered her graceful sting.

It is one thing to think you're Lebron. Its another thing to keep missing the basket and losing games and still think you're Lebron.

And that really was the problem: (Obama)  had the confidence without the full capability. And he gathered around him friends and associates who adored him, who were themselves talented but maybe not quite big enough for the game they were in. 

What an elegant way to say His Ineptness is in over his swollen head and should stick to rousing the rabble  south of the Blackstone Hotel. 

I recommend reading the whole thing. And if you happen to run across Ms. Noonan, please tell her I was just kidding about getting hitched. On the other hand, if she would settle for a couple of picnic hours with wine and a basket of cold chicken, I'm hers.

Ammunition shortage, politics, and other Mad Monday mIscellenia

1. I cleaned out the local WalMart supply of bulk-pack .22 long rifle hollow points yesterday. Which is to say I bought one pack, Federals, at $19.97 plus tax, and consider myself lucky to get that. My WalMart has hired a rarity, a personable sporting goods clerk.  I asked about the dearth of .22s. She said there's a run on the stuff, that when she re-orders it can take three weeks to get any at all, and it disappears in a day or two.

(This large, pretty woman is especially treasurable compared to the usual Wally munchkins  whose default response to any question is a shrug and a grunt. I came perilously close to proposing marriage.)

The mania to buy ammunition is, of course, a vox pop phenomena, better than any other poll.The people say His Ineptness will be swept into power again, carrying a valise full of greater flexibility.

2. Joe Scarborough and his supporting cast are having quite a party down in a Florida cafe this morning, setting the scene for the debate-like teevee program tonight.  A lot of parents were in the place,  getting their existence validated by waving their hands and babies at the teevee cameras. Joe and Mika each held some racially balanced kids. It was cute for a couple-three minutes, then not. I  knelt before the porcelain throne, brushed my teeth, and switched to a C-Span channel where...

3. C-Span was interviewing college kids about the great issues to be decided this evening. Back to the throne. Look, dammit, kids are in college to learn something about grown-up life. By definition they're a few years shy of knowing what the Hell they're talking about . Giving them teevee time to advise adults on adult topics is presumptuous at best, but "stupid" is a more accurate term.  (There are a few exceptions, of course, but I've already talked too much about my grandsons.)

4.  The Sunday gun auction was astounding. Fine classic handguns at prices phenomenally greater than I and my comrades are willing to pay, even in Bernanke's Federal Reserve Cartoons. (More anon, assuming  any ambition remains after my light-heavyweight bout with leaves. Damn, I love trees,  but my adoration fades every October when I rediscover the annoyance of living downwind from 400 acres of them.

The harem masters square off

Everybody loved the debate. The electric teevee jabberwockies loved it more than most because it had drama and conflict. Well, I agree. I  haven't seen anything so exciting since I watched a couple of older parties get riled over a call in patty-cake badminton.

It was a cage fight between eunuchs.

If Eunuch A had cleared his throat and declaimed to Eunuch B , "Sir, you are a lying, pandering sack of yak droppings with an intellect substantially inferior to that of Yogi Bear,"  I might have become more interested.  Either could have said  it without straying far from strict truth.

---

The debate was accurately summarized by Dr. Ron Paul some 12 hours before it occurred.  He was on CNBC and asked if he expected more substance in Debate 2  than he found in Debate 1. He said "no." Both Romney and Obama would simply promise fatter pick-a-nick baskets in the great Jellystone Park once known as the United States. Good call, Doctor.

Painfully to me, His Ineptness slithered slightly closer to the point at hand when he said something about long-term planning -- where the nation would be in 30 years or so. Unfortunately he uttered it only in a context of green energy -- solar and wind and ethanol mandates, all of those schemes touted by Mother Earth News  types 50 years ago. They would flood America with free pixie dust fuel by 1999 . Our troubles would end in a national group hug as Peter, Paul, and Mary grunted 69 choruses of Kumbayah.

So no real points for His Ineptness, just a nod to his mild suggestion that we might  want to give a thought to the fate of the nation in the decades after his personal interest in it ends, on January 20, 2013 or the same date in 2017. I mean, Hell, he knows he can fulfill his zillion-dollar book contract in Switzerland or Kenya or someplace.

Fairness requires me to say something equally nice about Governor Romney.  His hair stayed in place.

---

It's the debt, Stupid. And the deficits. And Ben's printing press.

No business like show business

In full fairness, honoring my duty to be an informed citizen, I watched the damned thing,  all the way through from Obama's open to Michelle. Honey Pie, it's our anniversary and I wish our clothes and the cameras were off.

All the way from the Romney rejoinder that he sympathized with his opponent's romantic frustration.  Very gentlemanly.

All the way to the end when Mitt pinned the poor president for the fifth and final time. (WWF debates have special rules.)   He had sort of expected someone to cinch the big championship belt around his middle.That didn't happen until later when all the world -- meaning Fox News, CNN, and MSNBC --  declared Obama the loser.

The story line carried through to the morning hours when a talker on Joe Scarborough's show  praised Romney for winning and both of them for engaging in such a meaningful exchange of views, for shunning the cheap shots. For being "two highly intelligent men ... presenting entirely different world views."

Okay. Obama presented a world view of free candy. Romney offered free ice cream. Obama promised to be a more compassionate Romney. Romney promised to  be a more efficient Obama.

If there were any "world-view" differences, science has a serious challenge: develop an instrument sensitive enough to detect them.

---

This analysis may be slightly flawed. About 25 minutes in,  I walked away from my electric teevee long enough to pop a bowl of corn and pour a sugary drink. Perhaps I missed crucial information.

Maybe Mitt explained the advantage of a revenue-neutral tax scheme for the "rich." Close loopholes and end deductions, but lower rates so the feds would extort precisely the same amount of money.

Maybe His Ineptness had a good retort to Mitt's notation that he had squandered 20 years worth of "tax breaks for big oil" on greenish jobs, i.e., Solyndra and its belly-up  brethren.

Maybe one or the other even hinted that we might want to give a thought to Charmin Basic, known to some as the American Dollar.

The national casting couch

The first presidential "debate" airs in three days and a wakeup. For some reason it reminds me of a passage in one of W.E.B. Griffin's "The Corps" novels.

A sergeant is herding a batch of Marine recruits from a New York rail station to Parris Island. He explains that they are not to screw around lest he have their asses.  That's necessary, but this noncom is one of the petty tyrants who enjoys it too much. His dignity depends on humiliating others. He ends his harangue with the usual "Any Questions?" A recruit raises his hand.

"Why is your hand up, Asshole?" he demands.

"You asked if there were any questions, Sir," the recruit replies.

"I didn't mean it."  He turns and stalks off "quite pleased with himself."

----

A desire sings in the soul. Would that vast revelation descend on the American electorate. No matter what His Ineptness says, no matter how Dufus Romney retorts, they do not mean it.

There will be no debate on which aspirant is most likely to  competently administer the  affairs of the federal government.  There will be an audition for the role of father, protector, best friend, jovial uncle, seer, Santa Claus, and spiritual leader.

---

Another line from some old novel or movie sticks with me. An aging starlet walks into a producer's office, lays the audition script on his table, and says: "I want this role and I'll ball anybody I have to to get it." It's a useful concept to keep in mind Wednesday night.

The morning mail

I've never  registered as an official RNC alumnus, so I don't know how I got on the has-been mailing list there at the Eisenhower Center. Maybe they checked old expense accounts. Maybe they dug into the bar tab archives at the Capitol Hill Club (good place to have a drink with guys in nice suits and the cute interns they brought). 

Anyway, they found me and figured out that, as free help, I might pump the Romney GOTV drive by a vote or two.

Friend,

Every phone call and door knock is crucial to achieving our success...

As alumni of the Republican National Committee, you're fully aware of how important volunteer activities are to achieving our goals. And that's why we're asking for your help ... Over the next six weeks we need to reach out to as many potential voters as we can.

We appreciate your support!

Thanks,

Reince Priebus
Chairman, Republican National Committee

It's nice to be remembered, Reince, and I share your distaste for His Ineptness the President. But no, thanks.  Because Mitt, among a few other little things which don't really add up to a GOP interested in small government, free markets, foreign-adventure restraint,  or individual sovereignty. 

Best,

Jim

It isn't often I wake up with Rachael Maddow,  just the occasional Saturday morning when the electrical teevee happens to be on Channel 63 as I click the power button. That usually happens only on mornings of lazy and lethargic grumpiness.

What the Hell.The primary alternative is Fox News, similar lies, only in shorter sentences and smaller words. Not worth the effort of  another clicker punch.

So Rachael and I communed for a few minutes as Miss Folger trickle charged my  heart.  I wasn't too surprised that she was analyzing the Romney and Obama campaigns, nor that she was operating from a V-word base, although she didn't use the word. Takeaway: Republicans hate women.

Then, on a lighter note, she shifted to her closer, the cocktail of the day, mixed on-camera, right before your very eyes, accompanied by the sort of coy giggling you often see in a high school girl about to commit her first venal sin. (That's the sort of thing I always associate with girls who like boys. But I digress.)

Which brings me to my segment closer: The Rachael cocktail is made of cognac, grenadine, lemon juice, and champagne. I submit to you, my fellow Americans, that anyone who accepts political advice from a woman who hustles crap like that should be instantly and permanently disenfranchised.

---

There is nothing like waking up with the Maddow woman to make a guy relish the thought of a nearby loophole.

I'm about packed, taking just enough stuff to justify having a table. The idea is to buy, not sell, so I'll have to listen to other lies today.

"Jim, this gun comes with quite a story behind it...".

As Skeeter Skelton once remarked on the subject. "Great. But how much is it without the story? I already heard a couple-three Rachaelwhoppers today."

The Public Vagina

If we must talk about it, I suppose we have to call it something, and vagina is technically accurate. Furthermore it is more, errr,  value-neutral than the four-and-five-letter synonyms of the locker room. So vagina it is as we chart the American future.

Get used to its ubiquity.  It has already begun to take root as a base for grammatical compounding. Such as "vagina-gogue," an offering in the National Review (of all places) by Michelle Malkin. She's furious at  Code Pink for fielding members dressed up like vaginae.  While I can't work myself up to a Malkin level of shrieking neocon rage, I too find it distasteful.

On aesthetic grounds, the costumed Pinkers resemble the female part only in the sense that a Salvador Dali clock resembles a clock. Certainly Dali had a First-Amendment right to draw slack, droopy, off-colored timepieces.

The ladies -- and a man or two, I gather from the news photos -- are similarly protected. Just as Stanley Kubrick was in gluing misshapen codpieces to his young thugs in "A Clockwork Orange."  If we want freedom of speech we learn to accept occasional ugliness along with, as in this case, the stupidity of vagina-as-political-tool.

---

The Pinkers and those who, like Malkin, take them seriously represent our failure persuade the masses and their political masters to raise their eyes about three feet -- from the national pelvis to the national brain.

I don't know if abortion is murder in the civil sense. I don't know if it is right or wrong to turn females into a financially protected or privileged class on the basis of their special health-care needs. (Or males for theirs.)  I do know that braying politicians are burdened with identical ignorance although they have struck electoral gold in pretending otherwise. Take a poll on "social issues." Count the votes. Plurality equals morality. Morality requires a law.

Mr. Obama, Mr. Romney, and all of your acolytes:  The world you aspire to rule is roiled by potential tragedy which might -- just might -- be tamped down by intelligent political effort. The problems are neither vaginal nor penile. They are economic, military, and organizational.

It is undoubtedly a futile dream that between now and November 6 you would elevate your focus, up from  the Y to the center of reasoning.

The fact that you won't makes some of us crotchety.

I told you God hates Republicans

From the AP's  Ten things you should know today:"


5. TROPICAL STORM ISAAC HAS REPUBLICANS WORRIED
After hitting hurricane strength it could target Tampa, right when the GOP holds its convention there.

---

History repeats. I was with a delegation to the '08 convention in St. Paul. About the first day a hurricane threatened some place on the Gulf, and as a matter of sincere moral concern  good PR we suspended  "business" for a day or so. *

A handful of my fellow delegates and I spent the off day capitalizing on the hospitality of lobbyists, and I think this was the time I managed to scarf up about two hundred bucks worth of sushi paid for by the teachers' union.  The sacrifices a guy makes for his country.

---

*This is slightly misleading. Little if any business is done at national political conventions. It's more accurate to think of them as made-for-teevee movies. Any and all of them could be appropriately titled "Pandering with Pep."

The Ayn Rand candidate

Is Atlas about to shrug?  No, of course not, but it's still pleasant to read that a Contender (however slim his chances) has read the book and found its ideas compelling.

In a 2005 speech to a group of Rand devotees called the Atlas Society, (Paul) Ryan said that Rand was required reading for his office staff and interns. “The reason I got involved in public service, by and large, if I had to credit one thinker, one person, it would be Ayn Rand,” he told the group. “The fight we are in here, make no mistake about it, is a fight of individualism versus collectivism.” 

That's music to our ancap ears even if we agree with the dreary political prophets who advise us to  gird for another four years of His Ineptness and the Jacobin chorus. When a man who might some day lead the country can use the phrase individualism versus collectivism,  things are not quite as bad as they might be.

But even if the anti-Obamaites find a way to win -- essentially by neutralizing the far-left northeast and the  assured 78 Obama electoral votes  along the Pacific coast and in Hawaii  --   we're not necessarily making great libertarian/objectivist progress. Because Alan Greenspan.

As a young fellow, Alan stopped barely short of moving his clothes to Ms. Rand's closet. As an old man and the national money czar, Alan had to spend a lot of time sputtering that, yeah, objectivism was a pretty good idea, but  not in the "real world."  

Sic transit integrity.

---

The cite is from a New Yorker profile of Ryan. It's recommended reading for folks who still appreciate old-school magazine journalism.

Obama? Romney? No, go ahead and pop the cap

I'm not too familiar with Marc Faber's work. He bills himself as an expert on the markets and the economy, or both. Today he addresses the question of whether Tweedle-Dum (D) or Tweedle-Dee (R) would best aid the American economy.


...says Faber, the Thailand-based author of the Gloom, Boom & Doom Report, if you put a gun to his head and told him to pick a candidate to vote for, he'd say, "shoot." 

He likes gold, by the way, but the report doesn't specify whether as a personal investment or a monetary standard. Could be both. Or he could be just another copper boor. (kof kof).

A Tramp Abroad

Mitt, you doofus, when you're a guest in another man's home you do not remark that the drapes need cleaning.

The proper answer to Fleet Street representatives is: "As a guest in your  country I am inspired by the achievements of the great British people and their leaders. Any nation which turned back Napoleon is capable of whatever is necessary to ensure a successful Olympic celebration."

Notes:

1.  It is acceptable to surreptitiously cross your fingers while delivering the statement.

2.  Do not mention Dunkirk.

For the first time in my adult Iowa life...

The Iowa Circus Ringmaster bowed to winner Ron Paul and invited him to take a victory lap in center circle.

No. Wait.

The ringmasters bitched and whined that it ain't no fair. 

A sample from Polk County GOP co-chair Dave Funk:

“The nominee from Polk County is someone that not only myself but none of the members of my executive committee that I have asked can tell me who that person is,” Funk said, “and to nominate someone who has not been active in local county politics is inappropriate.”

The tortured syntax reflects the shock and awe old party stalwarts felt when a slate of delegates pledged to Dr. Paul carried the day against a "unity" assortment.*

I can't imagine why they were surprised. For a couple of election cycles now, libertarians and their fellow travellers have been rewiring the circuits in the state and county apparatus. Among other things, a Paul enthusiast has become state GOP chairman.

It's a sure bet that tomorrow's news commentary will concentrate on the Paulistas' sneaky lowdown dirty tricks. Like learning the party rules, showing up at meetings, organizing their supporters, working harder, and insisting on their right to frame the debate in their own terms.

If the grassroots Republicans who pay attention to the process disapproved of such tactics, all they had to do was keep endorsing the old GOPers, the small government conservatives who still love ag subsidies, ethanol mandates, American blood in Mideast sand, and even the suspension of whatever Constitutional language is necessary to make the Patriot Act seem a nice warm blanket.

At least Romney was smart enough not to call Paul insane too often. Now we'll see if he smart  enough to issue new marching orders to Reince Preibus: "It's going to be a long convention. Let the congressman have his say."

---

*Danged if that doesn't remind me of Tammany Hall  and the Daly Machine. About every 20 years those thieves fubared things so badly that even the voters started getting the picture. So they trotted out a "unity" ticket (sometimes, especially in New York,  called  a "fusion" slate). That means they retired one old grafter among the dozens up for re-election and inked in one man who, for the moment, appeared to be honest.

Shrewd Al Sharpton

Romney said  there's only a limited amount of money available to hire teachers, cops, and firemen.

That gave Al Sharpton the theme for his daily diatribe. Sarcastically, he just asked if we really wanted to be  nation of "fewer firefighters, teachers, and first responders."

Notice the omission of  "police officers."

Sharpton knows his audience.
.

Me and Elizabeth Warren

Liz and I don't have much in common, but we've each been caught lying about our proud American Indian ancestry.

In my case the embarrassment was minimal even though it was compounded by claiming another bogus kinship.

When I was wee, the adults in my clan would remark about our descent from Daniel Boone and the strain of Cherokee in our blood. I accepted it as gospel and bragged of it as we played cowboys and Indians on the Des Moines River bluffs.

Years later I learned the myth was understandable, but phony. We had a very weak relationship to Dan'l's wife, Rebecca Bryan, but barring some seriously immoral hankie-pankie in them thar Appalachian  hills, his DNA flowed down a different crick.

And an18th Century liaison contributed a drop of Indian blood -- maybe Cherokee  -- only to a branch that an uncle or cousin or something married into.

I learned to live with shame of mere Irishness (polluted with a contribution here and there of some northern European strains). Anyway, I never planned  to capitalize on my Indianity to help me  capture the U.S. Senate seat belonging  by divine right to the Kennedys of Massachusetts or their acolytes.

Not so for poor Ms. Warren, one of President Obama's favorite Regulators and a member of the Harvard faculty and governing class. It seems that when she applied to be a Harvard teacher the university was anxious to hawk a diverse faculty. Liz went along with the gag. "Me diverse. Heap Injun."

That turned out to be heap fib, and she got caught.  Worse for her, she ducked and dodged like Bill (I never touched that woman) Clinton, and turned a small problem into a big one. It may or may not be enough to help keep the less-objectionable Scott Brown in the Kennedy seat.

We can only hope.

How Many Poles Does it Take...

Okay, it was the dumbass move of the month, this "Polish death camp" line our dim president threw out. It wasn't a mere "gaffe." He read it from his teleprompter, meaning it was written by experts in demagoguery, edited by even greater authorities on the art of bullshitting voters, and, finally, approved by the handful of high courtiers allowed to walk into the Obama Oval Office without knocking.

None of them, not even His Ineptness himself, had a neuron jiggled by the inherent dangers of an adjective, in this case "Polish."

Politics being the street brawl that it is, Romneyites are within their rights to kick the Obama campaign wedding tackle. True, the mouthpieces of the left are going blue in the face screaming that the GOP should retire to a neutral corner while the Obama seconds sponge him off and apply styptic powder.  Wouldn't they just.

It will all die down, leaving His Ineptness with fewer Ski votes this fall. And leaving some of us slack-jawed in amazement at the things the American electorate and its  media find crucial.

---

Here's what happened, Bunkie: About 73 years ago a country called Germany, led by a guy called Hitler, had a friend called Russia. Together, they raped a country called Poland. A domestic dispute occurred and Germany wound up running things in Poland. Among the innovations there were "death camps," conceived and operated of the Germans, by the Germans, and for the Germans. The camps wrecked unbelievable horror on millions of innocents who happened to have the wrong religion or the wrong genes or the wrong profession.

Hence "Polish death camps" -- a central event in the defining years of the 20th Century. It was universally understood that the term referred to German evil which, as a matter of Nazi convenience, was perpetrated across its border with Poland. It was simply more efficient to put ovens and torture chambers close to the target demographic.

By 1944 or '45 German guilt was in all the papers. No one  qualified to appear in public without a minder thought otherwise. Even many dues-paying members of the teachers' unions knew it and taught it.

Times change. History gets muddled, as do educationists, journalists, and grasping parasites of the political class. And so a great international debate flares over what, not much more than generation ago, would have been a phrase objectionable only to the most anal grammarian at Miss Porter's Country Day School.

Meanwhile, Rome-on-Potomac burns because math is a lot harder than squalling about ethnic insensitivity.  (cf: fiat money, debt)

This is not to let His Ineptness off the hook. He has one and only one profession, the politics of power. He and his elite panderers to public opinion of the moment are rewarded beyond Midas dreams to appear Christly at all times to even the looniest understandings held by blocs of the voting public. It's Propaganda 101, Mr. President. You flunked.

Now, as a practical matter, guys nicknamed Ski don't constitute the most important part of your electoral base. But, out of pure human kindness, may I suggest that you don't repeat the error.

For instance, if one of your crack speech writers gives you a draft containing "Negro lynchings," you might want to rephrase.

Things Ron Paul wouldn't say or do, even in Minnesota

He wouldn't walk down the street eating lutefisk on a stick. He wouldn't say he loved lefska. He wouldn't promise to name an aircraft carrier the USS Uffdah.

Still, our libertarian Minnesota political whizzes love him, and they're about to prove it by sending a disporportionate number of Paul supporters to the national convention and by ensuring that his ideas carry weight at the state-party level.


On day two of the convention, Ron Paul supporters really get a chance to flex their muscle as the 2,000-plus delegates elect a slate to represent Minnesota at the national Republican convention in Tampa. Paul delegates have already claimed 20 of the 24 delegates elected from the state’s congressional districts. Three delegate slots automatically go to party officers. Another 13 national delegates are chosen on Saturday. With the force behind them, it’s possible -- maybe probable -- that 33 of the state’s 40 delegates will be pledged to nominate Ron Paul.



It parallels the libertarian/Paul movement in Iowa and several other states, and the immediate upshot is that his ideas will not be totally ignored in Tampa. The time beyond the convention is fuzzier, but  it can't hurt the liberty cause to have a young cadre of smart operatives pulling the strings in the middle levels of the GOP bureaucracy.

---

I've attended political conventions for decades as a reporter, paid operative, and delegate. An outstanding feature is the blatent cluelessness of of many party officials and most delegates. They think the purpose is to bloviate on issues. The nearest comparison would be a mechanic who thinks his job is to expound this theories of automotive design while you're paying him to grind your valves.

The Minnesota Paulites illustrate the usefulness of highly skilled tinkering after learning the party rules and mores inside and out. When you've mastered the technical aspects,  then the time comes for using the machine to get to where you want to go, in this case from a higher level of statism to a a lower one. It's incremental and tedious, but it stands a better chance of reinstating our Constitution than loading up our M4geries.

Losing Lugar

We may need to supply mouth guards to every liberal and neocon (as though they really are two separate snake balls) in America. Indiana fomented a national tragedy by tarring and feathering  Senator Richard Lugar in yesterday's GOP primary. Already the establishment politicians have ground their teeth down to nubs.

Without Lugar the Senate is doomed to deadlock. Worse,  the era of "collegiality" and  "bipartisanship" is in danger of doing a do-do.

----

Bipartisanship:

Senator Lugar: I'm getting bored with this, Ted. You let me push my wars in Afghanistan and Iran and I'll support your $2 billion to hire more cops and teachers. Okay?

Senator Kennedy: We're getting close,  but you get one war or the other, not both. C'mon, I got Harvard AND Williams to worry about.

Lugar: Okay, Afghanistan, then. But  I also want that $250 million for Wabash River beautification. Hell, we're borrowing it all from the Chinese, anyway.


Kennedy: Done! Let's go to the Monicle in a bipartisan manner and find a lobbyist to pay and drink martinis and be collegial together.