Go For Brokered

There's been a lot of hand wringing over a so-called brokered GOP convention in July. It seems that none of the remaining candidates will have the necessary 1,237 delegates required to secure the nomination. That's because the three "leftover" contenders are either stiffs or nuts. Funny how that whole thing worked out, isn't it? When we started the process we had so many talented people running, plus, of course, the usual delusional folks who someone, possibly God, told that they would one day occupy the Oval Office. Then, one by one, essentially all of them went crazy. Even the really good ones. Of course, who wouldn't go crazy with a fat orange-ish red mosquito buzzing in their face?

So now we're faced with the prospect of a...gasp! contested convention. I say, go for it! Go for brokered! Why not inject a little fun and excitement into a process that has been, for approximately twenty-five years, nothing more than a drunken table dance for the states' "delegates"?

You know we're going to lose the election, right? Shoot, I may not even vote, which will kill my record, but I might be, well, too tired when I get off work. It all depends on how my day goes. And the weather could turn cold. I can't plan these things.

I say, therefore, let's have some fun! Every delegate who's sober...or drunk...doesn't matter...would be allowed to scribble a name on a piece of paper and deposit it into one of those straw boaters they're so fond of donning. The legible scribbles would be tallied and ka-boom! We've got our nominee! Think of the suspense! Even I would stay up past eight o'clock to learn the outcome of that contest. Who will it be?

"Oh, sorry, Matilda. The Gipper is no longer with us. Yes, you're right; even dead, he'd still be better than..."

"Really, Gus? Your neighbor's gerbil, Fluffy? You do know, I assume, that we already have a fat gerbil runn..."

"A Kit-Kat bar? I really don't think he...she...would be able to fulfill the..."

Queue up the microwave popcorn! This would be even more fascinating than my local weather radar channel with the computer-generated woman who talks with a Norwegian accent ("Clow-OO-dy")

I'm excited!

Politics Is Music To The...Okay, I Give Up

(Well, "beauty" is kind of pushing it.)

You know me (okay, maybe you don't, but you can catch the "beauty" of me here). My niche is writing about music, because I've been around long enough to know most of it. I've been rather lax in the "writing about music" arena lately, mostly because my thoughts have been elsewhere. Although today, my husband mentioned he might like to record a cover song, and he was thinking of "California Dreamin'". I said, well, you'd have to do the background vocals, too. You know, "All the leaves are brown -- leaves are brown". I don't know why that struck me as funny. The original recording is beautiful, but I guess when thinking about recreating it, it seems kind of lame. And then I thought about Michelle Phillips and how I'm pretty sure they shut off her mic anytime the group did a live performance, because she was essentially the eye candy; much like Mrs. Trump. (See how I brought this whole meander full circle?)

But why can't I meld my two interests into one big fat ball of red-like hair? I think I can! 

So, in my first installment of Music of the Candidates, I'd like to focus on Donald Trump. There are many many huge songs that well befit the GOP front runner, and it was difficult to narrow my choices, but these I like:

 And lest we forget:

There, in a nutshell, a music video nutshell, is the essence of Mr. Trump-ett.  

Feel free to contribute your own suggestions.

 

But Seriously, Folks...

TRUMP SUPPORTER:  "At this point in 1980, Ronald Reagan was trailing Carter by thirty points."

ME: "Yes, but Ronald Reagan wasn't a pig."


I've had to stop reading the comment sections of various online political sites. I always looked forward to reading the comments, because it told me what people were thinking. I could gauge the mood of the country, shall we say.  But now, for every thoughtful opinion, some yahoo has to chime in with a personal attack on someone's wife or some imbecilic double entendre regarding the size of a candidate's hands or other body part.

Gauge the mood of the country? Well, it appears the country is in the mood to hate and it no longer cares who knows it. Trump didn't create the Trumpets; he simply gave them permission to let it all hang out. Trump is "one of their own"; "my kind of guy".

Here are some things that I imagine most people, like me, are concerned about: making a decent living for their family, not being thrown out with the trash at age 65 because they are suddenly homeless due to draining their 401K's just to make it day to day; not getting blown up on the rare occasions when they have enough pocket change to visit the mall. Stuff like that.

Here is what Donald Trump is concerned about:

"Look at my hands. They're fine...My hands are normal hands. During a debate, he was losing, and he said, "Oh, he has small hands and therefore, you know what that means...and what happened is I was on line shaking hands with supporters, and one of (sic) supporters got up and he said, 'Mr. Trump, you have strong hands. You have good-sized hands'...My hands are normal. Slightly large, actually. In fact, I buy a slightly smaller than large glove, okay."  Source

So glad we cleared that up! Mind if I use those lines, Donald, when my boss presents me with my yearly three per cent "merit" raise, and I need to ask for more money? That'll wow 'em.

Ronald Reagan campaign speech, September 1, 1980:

Through this “Golden Door,” under the gaze of that “Mother of Exiles,” have come millions of men and women, who first stepped foot on American soil right there, on Ellis Island, so close to the Statue of Liberty.

These families came here to work.  They came to build. Others came to America in different ways, from other lands, under different, often harrowing conditions, but this place symbolizes what they all managed to build, no matter where they came from or how they came or how much they suffered.

They helped to build that magnificent city across the river.  They spread across the land building other cities and towns and incredibly productive farms.

They came to make America work.  They didn’t ask what this country could do for them but what they could do to make this refuge the greatest home of freedom in history.

They brought with them courage, ambition and the values of family, neighborhood, work, peace and freedom. They came from different lands but they shared the same values, the same dream.

Today a President of the United States would have us believe that dream is over or at least in need of change.

Jimmy Carter’s Administration tells us that the descendants of those who sacrificed to start again in this land of freedom may have to abandon the dream that drew their ancestors to a new life in a new land.

The Carter record is a litany of despair, of broken promises, of sacred trusts abandoned and forgotten.

Eight million out of work.  Inflation running at 18 percent in the first quarter of 1980.  Black unemployment at about 14 percent, higher than any single year since the government began keeping separate statistics.  Four straight major deficits run up by Carter and his friends in Congress.  The highest interest rates since the Civil War--reaching at times close to 20 percent--lately down to more than 11 percent but now going up again--productivity falling for six straight quarters among the most productive people in history.

Let it show on the record that when the American people cried out for economic help, Jimmy Carter took refuge behind a dictionary.  Well if it’s a definition he wants, I’ll give him one.  A recession is when your neighbor loses his job.  A depression is when you lose yours.  Recovery is when Jimmy Carter loses his.

I have talked with unemployed workers all across this country.  I have heard their views on what Jimmy Carter has done to them and their families.

They aren’t interested in semantic quibbles.  They are out of work and they know who put them out of work. And they know the difference between a recession and a depression.

Let Mr. Carter go to their homes, look their children in the eye and argue with them that in is “only” a recession that put dad or mom out of work.

Let him go to the unemployment lines and lecture those workers who have been betrayed on what is the proper definition for their widespread economic misery.

Human tragedy, human misery, the crushing of the human spirit.  They do not need defining--they need action.

And it is action, in the form of jobs, lower taxes, and an expanded economy that -- as President -- I intend to provide.

 
Source


Donald Trump campaign speech, February 24, 2016:

Every time I see him. It's hard for me to turn down money because that's what I've done in my whole life, I grab and grab and grab. You know I get greedy I want money, money. I'll tell you what we're going to do, right? We get greedy right? Now we're going to get greedy for the United States we're going to grab and grab and grab. We're going to bring in so much money and so much everything. We're going to make America great again, folks, I'm telling you folks we're going to make America great again.

So this was very exciting tonight. But I'll tell you it looks like we won by a lot evangelicals. … It's been amazing, the relationship. So we won the evangelicals. We won with young. We won with old. We won with highly educated. We won with poorly educated. I love the poorly educated.

Source

Sorry, what was that about Reagan and Trump again? I mean, c'mon! Twins separated by birth!

It's almost like:

 And while we're rooting around in the mud -- and you know me -- I'm no Cruz fan; but as far as I can tell, the Cruz campaign had no part in the Facebook posting of Trump's wife's photo -- you know, the one she gladly posed for, naked, in GQ, when it was financially and I guess, professionally, advantageous to do so. I am perplexed as to why, now, Trump and the Trumpets are mad about it. And why Trump would threaten to "spill the beans" about Mrs. Cruz's depression. Ever been depressed? It's pretty life-shattering. Oh, I suppose not as life-shattering as having a nude photo appear years later when your husband has, on a lark, decided to run for president, but it's not as if some pervert was snapping pictures through the bedroom window. You posed for it!

And don't even get me started on the lackey apologists. The political squawkers have lost sight of not only their principles, but their skinny thread of morality. On Bret's expanded panel last night, when this topic naturally arose, I listened to George Will and I listened to A.B. Stoddard and I listened to Charles Krauthammer; and I said to my husband, just wait 'til they get to Laura Ingraham. 

She did not disappoint. 

"Immigration!" she yelped. "Trade!"

Disgusting.

There was a moment not so long ago when I almost felt sympathy for DT (not the DT's, but I guess one could be driven to that). It was when the Chicago squirrels decided they'd make a name for themselves by protesting...something...they weren't sure what...and trying to provoke on-camera mayhem. I felt bad for approximately a day. But then I got a load of DT's supporters itching to punch someone and a couple of them actually giving in to their bitter impulses. Winning! Their moms must be so proud!

Yea, hate. Hate is what I'm seeing, from my "establishment" vantage point. I wonder how these people function in their everyday lives. Sure, every day when I go to work, there are at least two or three people I'd love to punch, but decorum (and financial necessity) dictates that I act like a civilized human. And I don't exactly want to live in a world of hate. I'd actually like to feel some joy.

We had so much going for us as conservatives -- so much promise. We had a sure winner -- I won't belabor the point; it's far too late now, but we did. We had one. Sadly, much like me, I guess, he was too "establishment". Too competent. We don't want competence, dammit!  Competence is for losers! And liars. Lyin' liars! We want somebody who's as coarse as our most debased instincts. Yea! Damn straight! That'll teach 'em!

We're doomed. 

What's Going On?

I've voted in presidential elections for forty years. Yes, forty. I held my nose and voted for Gerald Ford in 1976, which really dampened my enthusiasm for finally reaching that magic age -- when I was legally able to cast a ballot. Still, I felt good about performing my civic duty and having the gumption to get out there and wait in line, even though I was eight and seven eighth's months pregnant.

There's no telling why I fell in love with the political process. Let's just blame TV. When I was barely a teenager, I watched the party conventions on my tiny black and white, and it was my sport; my Academy Awards. I remember seeing Everett Dirksen -- remember him? I was fascinated by his voice. It was low and it resonated in one's chest, like thunder clouds grumbling in the sundown sky. I didn't even know what party he belonged to; I watched both parties' conventions and didn't care, because at thirteen, I wasn't (yet) partisan. I just loved the spectacle.

As I grew older, I came to understand that conventions had a predictable flow. A bunch of party people came on stage and slathered the nominee with syrupy, patriotic praise; delegates in their straw bowlers hoisting tall signs in the air with the name of their state excitedly announced that "North Dakota casts it's thirty-one votes for the NEXT PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, Richard M. Nixon!!!"  Hoo-RAH!! And Oregon was giddy, knowing their votes were going to put the nominee over the top! Cue the fluttering noisemakers and confetti!

Of course, as time went on, we became so much more demure in our celebratory demonstrations. Because we were mature; serious. This was no time for frolicking. And frankly, some of the duds we've had in the Republican party didn't spur us to party like it was nineteen seventy-nine. Ford? Not a real rollickin' dude. Bob Dole? I loved the guy, but he was more ironic; not exactly in it to win it, but he showed up and gave it his all. Reagan? Well, that was a once in a lifetime phenomenon. That was a reason to party.

Not that the Democrats fared any better. In fact, I had to search my brain for some of their most lose-a-licious losers. Well, there was Michael Dukakis. Who, exactly, thought he'd make a winning contender? How about John Kerry? Remember how his grotesquely rich wife asserted that everyone called her "Mama", on camera, with all her paid minions kneeling at her feet? It was like one of those cringingly unfunny Saturday Night Live sketches.

By 2012 we had the spectacle of (traitor) Chris Christie extolling his own virtues, while ostensibly placing Mitt Romney's name into consideration. The best part of that whole convention was Clint Eastwood and The Chair. Surreal, but I, unlike many, loved it.

And now? Now I don't know what's going on. My forty years of surety have evaporated in a POOF! Now we're going to have some guy with a weirdly flip of flaxen hair standing up there, extolling the results of Matt Drudge's latest online poll; voicing his distaste for blonde Fox commentators who aren't named Greta; talking about "lyin' liars"; while we stand perspiring in the auditorium and glance at one another nervously, unsure where the applause line is supposed to come in. Nodding to our compadre from Terre Haute, Indiana; reassuring her that we haven't actually just elected the next president of the United States, Hillary Con Man Clinton.

So, you tell me...what exactly is going on here? Because I am flummoxed. The world as I knew it has flipped on its head, and I don't much like it.

So, It's Cruz Now?

Label me excited.

As of tonight, it looks like Ted Cruz is pulling something off, which I don't get, but hey! He's winning. I guess if he's smart (which everyone tries to tell me he is) and if he is actually able to wrestle the nomination away from Dunderhead, he would choose Marco Rubio as his running mate. Then I could get on board.

I said before that I would never support Ted Cruz. Okay, I will. But he can't win. Because he comes across as a stiff. I mean, look at him. He's the tattle tale in junior high, hiding behind the lockers, waiting for you to diss the biology teacher so he can run back to the classroom and convince Mr. Johnson to etch a red demerit next to your name. In his senior yearbook, Ted Cruz was not voted "most popular".

But at least he's a conservative. A conservative who nobody likes, but okay. If he was president, I suppose plenty of people on Capitol Hill would suddenly "like" him.

I'm giving Ted the benefit of the doubt.

Just don't hate me if I choose to watch him with the sound off.

The Establishment

Definition of establishment

1. 1 :  something established: as a :  a settled arrangement; especially :  a code of laws b :  
2. 2 :  an established order of society: as a often capitalized :  a group of social, economic, and political leaders who form a ruling class (as of a nation) b often capitalized :  a controlling group <the literary establishment>
3. 3 a :  the act of establishing b :  the state of being established
   
   
   I'm sick of being called "the establishment".
   
   
   Let me give you a primer of my life right now: I have no money. My husband was forced to take early retirement from his job four and a half years ago, and we are living on my salary plus the remnants of my retirement plan, which was supposed to cushion us in our old age. We have eight more months to go before he can start receiving his (age 62, meaning "reduced") Social Security benefits. We pray that our car won't die before then. When one of my children has a birthday, I have to mentally calculate how much I am able to spend on a gift card to tuck inside their Hallmark greeting. I am not "in love" with my job, but I know I need to cling to it for another four years, and my mental faculties are struggling to keep up with those forty-year-olds I work with; not to mention the twenty-year-olds.
   
   
   So, it stings when someone calls me "the establishment". 
   
   
   I am not a political leader. Nor am I (obviously) an economic leader or one of the "ruling class". I'm just a conservative. Yep, one of those die-hards. I stood in line at the elementary school when I was eight point seven-eighths months pregnant with my first child, so I could mark my ballot for Gerald Ford. Gerald Ford! I wasn't exactly enamored with the guy, but even then I understood that a crappy old Ford was better than a duplicitous peanut farmer. So don't look down on me when you have no bona fides -- when you never even voted in a presidential election before; before some smarmy used car salesman got your juices flowing and you have decided, for once, to hoist yourself off the couch and saunter down to your local polling place (after you looked it up online because you'd, duh, never been there before).
   
   
   Stop insulting me.
   
   
   Jonah Goldberg, on Special Report the other night, commented that there is plenty of blame to go around for the rise of Trump -- too much blame to delineate. But I'll do it:
   
   
   Media.
   
   
   My distaste for Fox has risen like bitter vile in my throat. I get that Fox News is our only option, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I would love to watch a program created solely for people who "think". That would be refreshing! Instead, I am subjected to the following folks who, despite their penthouse lifestyles, are simply dumb-asses who bathe in the glow of He Of Gilded Wealth and who will sell their conservative souls for a chance to be smited by his golden scepter:
   
   
   • Sean Hannity
   • Greta Van Susteren
   • Eric Bolling
   • Unnamed Fill-In Females With Short Skirts and Anesthetized Brains
   
   
   But they're not the only ones. Here are some people I used to respect:
   
   
   • Rush Limabaugh
   • Laura Ingraham
   • Ann Coulter 
   • Breitbart News
   
   
   What happened? You sold out your principles for what? Because you're pissed? Like I'm not? 
   
   
   The percentage of Republicans who view electability as their most important criteria is seventeen per cent. Seventeen! Look, dumb-asses: if your guy doesn't win, you can bitch and moan all you want and it doesn't amount to a steaming pile of BS. Maybe you can feel all sanctimonious in voting for some guy who has not one clue how the world works, but hey! He did host The Apprentice! And what we see on network TV has gotta be real! And you can bow before the Criminal In Chief, Hillary Clinton. 
   
   
   Wake up.
   
   
   Good lord, people. 
   
   
   Have some freakin' sense.