Hemorrhage

Nicole isn’t the only person doing a slight freak-out over Trump’s idiotic tweets about starting WWIII. Progressives are, of course, but we’ve been screaming at the tops of our lungs since he was elected.

While Republican lawmakers are mostly either guardedly supportive or silent due to their collective problem with spinal-collapse-in-the-face-of-mid-terms, the average citizen is saying WTF?

But you see, this is not the time for hand-wringing.

In the first place, the man bloviates.  He does it a lot. Right now, he’s facing a really big problem personally, and that’s the prospect of his long-time attorney flipping on him and becoming Mueller’s bitch. Like a small child, when Trump gets upset, he lashes out, and lashing out at Russia does a couple of things.  It makes him look all decisive and strong, it relieves some of his anxiety, and it says to the country, “See? I’m not in cahoots with Putin. I never, ever or I wouldn’t threaten him now.”

Some new shiny thing will catch his attention in a few minutes and he’ll veer off that way.

But let’s talk about the idea of a “citizens’ press conference.” Seriously, stop laughing.  I know.  But stop laughing.

Here’s the idea. We make this collective statement to the press. It represents the citizens of the United States, or even the citizens of the commonwealth of Kentucky.  Who gets to write it?  Quinten?  (Oh, yeah, he can’t do that. I forgot.)  Okay, who?

I am being serious here.  Who writes it?  Who delivers it to the press?  What gives that person the authority to do that?  That person, whoever writes it, is representing me, supposedly. Don’t I get a say in what is said in it?

How do we go about letting me have my say?

Let’s assume we have a big meeting in Louisville to decide.  Who gets to speak? Everyone can’t speak or we’ll be there for three centuries.

Furthermore, we’re making this statement to “the Russians” or “the Chinese” or “the Syrians.”  Exactly who is that?  The Russian, Chinese, or Syrian governments? The people of those countries?  Who?

What if the people of Russia, or China, or Syria got together and held a “citizens press conference” to tell the United States that they want nothing to do with any of this?  Would that matter? If they directed such a statement to me, would it make any difference? If they directed a statement like that to Trump, do you think for a single second it would matter?  Do you seriously believe that Putin or Xi Jinping or al-Assad would give a single shit about what I think?

But the important thing here is the idea of making a collective statement in the first place and who gets to decide what it says.

The only way to do that is to choose a representative (or a small group of representatives, a committee) to do it for us.

I’ll pause a minute and let you think about that.

In the commonwealth of Kentucky, we do it here.

On the federal level, it’s here.

When you refuse to participate, you forfeit your right to have a say. Oh, you can still voice your opinion, but it’s meaningless. You don’t have a microphone. You can put your opinion on Facebook if you like along with the fifty bazillion other opinions out there, but that’s not a “citizens press conference.” That’s your lone voice crying amidst the masses, and it is drowned out before the words leave your phone.

Dear God, someone stop this man before he kills us all!

We already tried that.  You made fun of us for doing so. Remember?

Okay, you never took him seriously. (“Serious” is used an adverb in your sentence and therefore has to have “ly” added to it. You aren’t in any way qualified to teach anyone anything, and certainly not the English language.)

Are you taking him seriously now?  Is it all a big joke now?  You hoped he’d win, because that’s what “we” deserve. You do understand that a nuclear war doesn’t care if you declared that you were opting out, don’t you?  As it falls on your head and/or the fallout heads  your way, it won’t care.

Still giggling, Nicole?  Is it still funny?

But of course, this was the excuse.  It was the excuse for a lot of people.

And this meme, of course, was designed to elect Trump.  Nicole didn’t understand that when she posted it. She was being used as a pawn without realizing it.

It was designed to make Hillary look like the worse choice, and since Trump was so awful, if Hillary was worse, then the best thing to do was nothing at all. So that’s what a whole lot of people did.  People who refused to vote for Trump were convinced not to vote at all.

And here we are.

But you know, our government was not founded by a bunch of dumbasses. The Constitution hasn’t survived this long because it’s a stupid document. It was pure genius at the time. It remains a good form of government, and it basically anticipated the problem that might occur if a complete idiot, or a crazy person became president.

It anticipated the problem by not putting absolute power in the hands of any one branch of government. There are three branches.

Right now, the judicial branch (in the form of Robert Mueller) is doing its job, slowly, methodically, and I hope inexorably.

The legislative branch is not.  The legislative branch at the moment is lying on a gurney in the emergency room on life support.  It’s hemorrhaging members. A record number (the most in my lifetime) of Republican congressmen aren’t seeking reelection, because they pretty much know that they won’t win. The ones who remain are suffering from a common ailment known as “no-spine” that occurs when a politician is scared shitless of being voted out.

The legislative branch of government has the power to stop the executive dead in the water. Stop him cold. He can’t make law. He can’t declare war. He won’t be able to do shit except tweet vehemently and scream at his aides.

But to do that, we have to stop the hemorrhaging and get the legislative branch up on its feet again.  We have to give it a transfusion, a big one, a huge, enormous Democratic transfusion.

We need to have a citizens press conference and tell the legislative branch to do its job.

The press conference is called an “election.”

To voice your opinion, to have a say, you have to register to vote and go to the polls.  And after you show up, you have to make some choices. They aren’t always fun or pleasant choices. Very often, those choices involve deciding between the lesser of two evils, or sometimes between the more desirable of two sort of “meh” representatives.

What comes to mind immediately for me is the gubernatorial election here in Kentucky that got us Bevin.  The guy running against him was Jack Conway. I cannot abide Jack Conway.  He’s a Democrat.  He shares many of my values and views. But I don’t like him. He’s kind of smarmy and smug and entitled and I just don’t like him.  Dave and I went to hear him speak once and we were not impressed.

But faced with the choice of Bevin the Lunatic and Conway the Smarmy Guy, I had to suck it up and do what I didn’t really want to do and vote for Conway. I would have loved a different, better choice, but I didn’t have one. They call this adulting.

The truth is that to get an electoral slate that I would totally agree with, I would have to run personally for every office. It would have to be my name on the ballot on every line.  I suspect that’s pretty much true for most of us.

Right now, there is not one single person representing me that I voted for. No one.  Every person I voted for in the last election lost.  The governor, the state representative for my district, the congressman from my district, the two senators from Kentucky, the president. They all suck massive amounts of dirt. I rarely agree with any of them about anything.  I have never voted for any of them and never will.

Furthermore, when we go to the polls here in our area, the poll workers always are reasonably polite until we get our ballots and they realize we’re Democrats and then everything gets stony silent.  They aren’t openly rude, but it’s not a pleasant experience. I hate doing it. It’s discouraging. It’s actually a little bit demoralizing.

But I walk in there anyway.  I vote anyway. Come November, I will vote against every person who represents me that is up for reelection.  You might be in a better situation where your representatives are great, and if so, you’re lucky. What is necessary is to vote. So, suck it up, buttercup and just do it.

That’s because I know that if we all vote, we can start that blood transfusion and save the patient, and the patient will save the country. Deciding not to decide will allow the patient to bleed to death.

 

 

 

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15 thoughts on “Hemorrhage”

  1. I have voted in every election since 1972. As Frank Zappa says, there may not be anyone to vote for, but there’s always someone to vote against. I’ve never voted a straight party line and sometimes I got lucky.
    Right now, it’s just scary.

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  2. Furthermore, when we go to the polls here in our area, the poll workers always are reasonably polite until we get our ballots and they realize we’re Democrats and then everything gets stony silent. They aren’t openly rude, but it’s not a pleasant experience. I hate doing it. It’s discouraging. It’s actually a little bit demoralizing.

    I don’t know how it works in Kentucky, or your county in Kentucky – but in my county in Maryland, when you go up to those poll workers to get your ballot (and there are always two at the table), one is a Republican and the other is a Democrat.

    I’ve been a poll worker for two elections (primary and general). I had to go spend about 2 hours one evening, or maybe it was two, getting training. Then I had to show up at my assigned polling station very early in the morning to help set things up. They do try to have poll workers work where they are registered to vote. Then you spend all day sitting next to someone you may never have met before, whose vote may negate yours, and swap stories, try to hustle voters through as quickly as possible while still following the procedures, eat the sandwiches and things that are often donated by local businesses, stay late to put things away and go home. You get paid a couple of bucks for your day.

    It’s been a long time since I was a poll worker but it was reasonably pleasant. Some of the voters were nasty but that was mostly because they were tired of standing in line, hungry and didn’t understand that we were tired too and didn’t want to make an error. They were a tiny minority though and generally pulled themselves together when reminded that if every single voting booth is occupied, we really can’t send them on.

    Democracy in action. A little cranky, perhaps a bit creaky but worthwhile.

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  3. Or we could do this at Weehawken.

    Summon all the courage you require and aim your kindle at the sky? Fire.

    Sorry. Feeling myself cause I got Hamilton tickets.

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  4. My little town flipped from Dems to Thuglican. In fact there are still trump signs up. Myself I think they know they have a fuck in office and cant admit it

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  5. I enjoyed this blog entry very much, but when I “liked”, I got the opposite message that I didn’t like it. So I went back and clicked again, and the number went down by one and then it said I liked it. So I think the “like” button is katy-wompers today.\

    Nicole is representative of the sad state of dumbassery in many parts of this country. Thankfully, they are in the minority, but they sure make a lot of damn noise.

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  6. Big question here is why is she acting like she is the spokesperson for all of Kentucky? 0-o

    Grow up Nicole.. you dont vote anyway, why do you care? I think you just like to hear yourself talk.

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  7. On election day I was down with strep, do I get a pass

    Not much of one. LOL I will crawl over broken glass to get there (quoting Ted Cruz).

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  8. Not much of one. LOL I will crawl over broken glass to get there (quoting Ted Cruz).

    This last election I had a one month old and was recuperating from a very traumatic birth. Blood transfusions and a very annoying wound vac didn’t keep me from the polls. It was not a pleasant experience though. I believe that voting is a profound responsibility.

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  9. Similar situation here as Outsider. My county stayed Democrat through the last election but I’m in a pocket of fierce Trumpers and the state as a whole flipped to Republican.

    When I signed in for the last primary the poll worker, who was a former neighbor, announced to the whole room “you’re a Democrat?!”. So much for my private vote.

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  10. On election day I was down with strep, do I get a pass

    Oh man, I had strep about 15 years ago (it was blowing through the local schools and I got it from a young family member) and I had a 103 degree fever before I called my doctor. I felt like death sucking on a lifesaver and I looked it too. I have NO idea how the hell I managed to drive to the physician and from there to the pharmacy and home without killing myself or anyone else. Ugh. Tonsil pearls and everything tasting like shit and hurting. Strep isn’t fun.

    If you have active strep or anything else that puts you at 100 degrees or more, stay home, try to hit your polling station at one of the traditionally slow times (9-11 am; 1-4 pm), and let one of the poll workers know you are SICK so they can spray down the booth with dilute bleach. Better still, bring your own!

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