I’ll fully admit my goal has been to finish my Masters in political science by Christmas and then head east to a dream job inside a state I truly believe to be the prettiest I’ve ever laid eyes upon. However, that’s not being completely honest. My ultimate dream is to not only have the degree but to also write about politics. I daily read the website “The Huffington Post” and daydream about a time where people surf the ‘net to see what I have to say about the latest happenings in Washington. I won’t change, though. I’ll still write about my ability to say racist things and get away with it because I voted for President Obama, with the classic, “What’s the difference between a pizza and a black man? A pizza can feed a family of four.” And just as horrified readers begin to write me hate mail, I’ll post a picture of my Toyota Echo (Echo) with an Obama bumper sticker on the back.
Unfortunately, I may just have to cross “The Huffington Post” off my dream jobs. Several months ago I could have sworn I saw the name of an author I know all too well, one I had a slight falling out with. Earlier this morning while browsing its pages, it was confirmed: Yahoo! News reporter Christine Hassler contributes to the website. As long as she’s there – and I have to believe she remembers my name – I more than likely don’t stand even a slight chance.
For those that may not remember or didn’t read it, over a year ago I read an article written by Christine Hassler instructing women how to avoid “players.” Resenting her attitude toward men, I wrote a mock article of my own and sent it to her. This lead to several emails back-and-forth and a subsequent apology on my part when she let it be known her feelings were hurt. So, for those who missed it, I dug it up and I’ll repost it. Below was my article entitled “My Date with Christine Hassler”:
I don’t mean to brag but I believe I’ve met the woman of my dreams. Does it seem sudden? Yes, I feel that way too. Her name is Christine Hassler and she’s a writer for Yahoo! Personals. I stumbled upon an article she wrote entitled “Do Women Like Dating Jerks?” that headlined Yahoo news and, intrigued, read her article while my heart beat to her name. Maybe that’s been the cause of my irregular heartbeat as of late, but I’m not one to point fingers. She introduced her article by writing:
”Here’s how the jerk spell works: we meet the jerk and in some twisted way are seduced by his confidence, charm, and passion. We don’t see these as the disguises they are: confidence is really arrogance, charm comes from him being a player, and his passion is being the center of his own universe.”
I’ll admit, the article itself, while not long, took me two hours to read. Upon reading her entrancing words about charm, it came to mind the night when a shy 16 year-old version of me thought it best to practice dating the only way he knew how: standing in front of a mirror and pretending he was on a date with himself. Yes, the evening went well. Perhaps too well. He/I seemed caring, intelligent, and He/I came across as having a superb sense of humor (He/I do). But He/I used those qualities to offer empty promises and, before I knew it, I woke up the following morning on the bathroom floor, my boxers still-clinging to my knees, red tears streaming down my face as I lamented the violation (it was still good, though) I had received. I looked up towards the mirror to see a cold-faced He/I with a cocky smile on his face. He dropped twenty dollars on my stomach and told me to “take care” of the genes he knew would surely be growing in my uterus in the impending weeks.
Wait, got sidetracked from the article. After the thoughts of my own charms had subsided, I finished the article and was enthralled. Being confident, I emailed her and mentioned a possible date, knowing that having a ‘lil Janssen in her would cure the hauntings she’s endured by jerks. To let her know I wasn’t a typical jerk, I told her in the email I’d be enclosing my phone number and that I didn’t do such things often. In fact, I only give my number to exceptionally gorgeous people, so she can thank me for slumming it with her when we are on our date.
“A jerk loves being a jerk — way more than he loves us. I guess if they’ve always gotten away with treating people poorly and nobody ever set them straight, why would they change? Besides, a jerk seems to always have an attractive woman on his arm laughing at his mediocre jokes and ignoring his wandering gaze.”
She happily accepted my generous invitation to go on a date, and that we did. I took her to a fine Italian restaurant I’ve been assured is the choice of Italians: Olive Garden. We ordered our food and Ms. Hassler and I swallowed up our wait for the meal (Endless pasta bowls for the both of us, as I ordered for her, naturally) by Christine constantly lavishing praise upon me for even acknowledging her presence in the room. This hot conversation boiled over to hand holding as I whispered in her ear, something I could sense she had waited her entire life for the perfect man to do, in a sexy tone that made her loins burn (don’t worry, I told her most women feel that way after spending an evening with me).
”Christine,” I began, my words entering her ears as light as a soft breeze, “the only joke I’ve ever told happened just moments before when I told you I could really see myself being with you down the road. And it wasn’t mediocre – it was tremendous.”
Her eyes rolled slightly to the back of her head in an instant rush of pleasure before I rubbed her hand and told her to wait, that desert wouldn’t be served until we got back to the basement of my parents’ house (I’m crashing there until grad school starts. She understood). With the physical attraction more than being established, our talks shifted to politics, where what really attracts me to women surfaces: intelligence.
“So if there is a jerk out there making your heart go pitter-pat and estrogen is messing with your reasoning…”
“I see you believe Hillary Clinton isn’t qualified to run for office because of her vagina as well,” I stated, raising one eyebrow while swirling a glass of wine we had just poured out of a box in my hand. “You just ‘get me’, don’t you?” I quipped while laughing. “Are you as turned on as I am at this moment?”
“How? I think it’s because deep down every woman wants a challenge or a little danger. It’s not really the jerk we like; it’s the thrill of the chase, the rush of adrenaline when the jerk’s phone number pops up on our cell (which is usually right after last call).”
The evening had succumbed to passion, as had we. Rolling off her and dismounting, I let her know how honored Ms. Hassler should be that I filled her with Janssen DNA. Noting she said earlier in the evening she loves a challenge, I offered her one for the ages: making me a peanut butter jelly sandwich while not waking my parents up. No easy task considering should she not get the right ratio of peanut butter to jelly I’d be sent off into a fit of rage that would give me retard-like strength culminating with me boxer-less in Mexico. And should she finish the challenge successfully, I’d give her the rush of a lifetime (minus the sex she had just had with the J-man): doing all the dishes she used up while making me my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with just the right ratio of peanut butter to jelly while I engage myself in a post-coitus nap.
“Go ahead and let him woo you, but when he asks for your number tell him that you only date guys who prove their value by respecting a woman. If he’s a jerk he’ll roll his eyes, say you have an attitude and snicker as he leaves.”
As the date comes to an end and she utters the words above, I open my robe to let her see what she’ll be missing while she’s gone, saying, “Only one woman in the world has had the guts to tell me I have to prove myself to her. Maybe later, if you play your cards right, our second date can be a late night, star-filled picnic on her grave.”
And as Christine Hassler left my sight on a walk of shame I’m sure she endured many times in college, I shouted after her, “And in the future don’t park in the driveway. It really pisses my parents off.”
I had my wisdom teeth removed on Monday and consequently have been hopped up on painkillers ever since. I desperately want to start doing research on my thesis (I haven’t come up with a specific topic but it’s going to be along the lines of religious voting) but I’m in too much pain to focus without the pills and too loopy to focus when on them, so that option is out. Instead I thought I’d use a real world example as refresher on what I’ve learned so far by explaining what really is happening with Senator Arlen Specter from Pennsylvania. It’s education taught the way it ought to be – with drugs flowing constantly – and I decided to write this in honor of Amanda who, upon studying political science in one of her classes this semester, recently deemed the subject “boring.” I know Steve’s with me on this one. Political science is lots of fun when you can cut out the dialogue and replace it with what’s actually being said, much like the television show “Mystery Science Theater 3000.”
But before I start, a lovely picture detailing just how beautiful my home state is:
If Michigan looks unusually beautiful it’s because Detroit was excluded from the photo.
For those of you that don’t know, Arlen Specter was a Republican Senator from Pennsylvania.
You can tell he’s no longer a Republican by noting the fact he doesn’t have to constantly wear an American flag lapel pin to remind him of what country he loves.
Arlen Specter has been a United States Senator for twenty-nine years, all of which until just recently he served as a Republican. Essentially, there are two camps within the Republican Party: moderates (fiscal conservatives who concern themselves primarily with tax policy) and conservatives (those who place preeminent importance upon social values). Specter has long been a moderate. Though disagreeing with and frustrating Democrats has been in Specter’s history, he also has disagreed with his own party on hot-button issues. Toward the end of President Bill Clinton’s tenure Specter went against his own party by strongly disagreeing with the vote to impeach the president. This moderate view, along with occasionally disagreeing with his own party, began to cause Specter trouble when conservative President George W. Bush rose to power.
In David R. Mayhew’s Congress: The Electoral Connection we learned the history of how Congress works. I’ll spare you the details and make it brief. In essence, Mayhew detailed the “Pre-Reform” era of Congress where Republican and Democrat politicians were mostly independent. Because they relied on themselves for funding and reelection bids and not the central party – a stark contrast to the United Kingdom’s party system – politicians felt their loyalty resided, ultimately, on their own shoulders. Central parties were weak and committee seats, a coveted prize establishing prestige and power, were doled out based on seniority. However, in 1993 the new Republican majority in Congress led by conservatives established the Reform era and everything changed.
Republicans centralized their political party’s power and soon Republican politicians, while still more independent than in the United Kingdom, began to rely on their party for funding and reelection bids. The number one rule became loyalty to the party, though there are exceptions to this rule I won’t get into. If a politician spurned his party they could cut off his committee memberships, reduce his funding, or even recruit a popular opponent to run against him in a primary election and give the newcomer the party’s full support. With the Reform era firmly established by the Republican majority, the Democratic Party had no choice but to copy the model or risk falling to the wayside. There’s one fundamental rule that trumps everything in American politics: self-preservation.
In 2004, with conservatives at the height of their power, many conservative Republicans wished to boot the moderate Arlen Specter out of power in order to add another conservative to their ranks. Sensing a potential power grab, a youthful and extremely popular conservative Republican politician named Pat Toomey decided to run against Specter. The primary election was incredibly close and Specter limped to victory, not a positive sign. Usually incumbent Senators crush their primary opponents. What was the margin of error that may have saved Arlen Specter? None other than the endorsement of President George W. Bush. While it can’t be known for sure, odds are Bush’s endorsement of Specter sent him a message: I saved you, you owe me, follow the party-line completely.
Specter continued to follow his moderate footsteps despite Bush’s intervention, enraging conservative Republicans. He criticized any attempt to overturn Roe v. Wade. He challenged President Bush’s wiretapping without warrants, a provision of the Patriot Act, calling it “clearly and categorically wrong.” He lashed out against Bush when the president was accused of leaking classified documents, saying President Bush “owes a specific explanation to the American people.” In essence, Specter has walked all over the party line and Republicans have waited to punish him for it.
Specter’s Senate election of 2010 drawing close, Toomey once again announced his intention to run against Arlen Specter. This time there would be no endorsement by a Republican official to protect him, and Specter could see the writing on the wall. The Republican Party was putting all of its money and support behind Toomey. However, Specter had one bullet in his own chamber: Democrats, assuming Al Franken is seated, are only one seat away from a supermajority in the Senate. This supermajority status would be enough to overcome a filibuster attempt to block legislation in the Senate. A filibuster is the right of a party and politician to stand before the Senate and, once he has the floor, to talk as long as he wants about anything – as long as he doesn’t stop talking. Hell, you could stand up and simply read out of the phone book if you wished. But with a supermajority Democrats could toss gavels, rocks, and dildos at any Republican who attempted to block legislation by reading out of the Bible. “We all ready know how this story ends! Sit your ass down, shut up, and let’s vote on giving ourselves raises!”
And Specter did just that – he switched to the Democratic Party to give them the critical 60th seat (meaning they have a 60-40 majority in the Senate) for a supermajority. Republicans have blasted this move as nothing but political, and they would be right. The golden rule for all is self-preservation. Specter knew he no longer had the backing of his party and would lose his primary, and thus his job. Specter also knew the Democrats would love to have a sixty seat supermajority, and more than likely Democrats would allow him to switch parties in exchange for not running anyone powerful against him in a Democratic primary contest. Republicans could have their conservative candidate, Specter could keep his job for the moment with the assurance the Democrats wouldn’t run anyone strong against him, and the Democratic Party had a sixty seat supermajority. All was well…for less than a week.
In one of his first moves as a Democrat, Arlen Specter voted against President Obama’s proposed budget. Less than two days later Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid announced Specter would no longer be a senior figure on any committees but rather a junior member. Republicans criticized the Democrats, saying they promised not to do such a thing. Reid denies ever making such a promise. Reid is lying. He most definitely did promise not to strip Specter of his seniority should he switch parties but that was before Specter failed to vote the party line on his first vote as a Democrat. It was retribution, pure and simple.
Shortly after that Specter announced he believed Norm Coleman, a Republican from Minnesota, should win a contested seat against Democrat Al Franken. This comment enraged Democrats and forced Arlen Specter to state he “momentarily forgot which side” he is on. And, as I write this, Democrats just began to announce this:
Popular Pennsylvania Democrat Considering Running against Specter in Democratic Primary
Political science is better than reality television, Cops, and World’s Most Frightening Car Crashes XIVIX combined when two key ingredients are in place: you can speak the language of political double-speak and you’re messed up on OxyContin from oral surgery.
Call it schadenfreude. Call it me being an asshole. But I’ve waited a long time for this. Mel Gibson’s wife has filed for divorce. No, I haven’t been wishing for bad things to happen to Mel Gibson, and I wasn’t hoping his marriage would end. I’ve been patiently waiting for his religious hypocrisy to arise. And it wasn’t his anti-Semitic comments of the past that raised my ire. Personally I’ve gotten along with everyone I’ve ever met that’s Jewish. I know this because the first thing I say to people I’m getting to know is, “Are you a Jew?” That’s how I can be certain my track record is picture-perfect.
No, my problem with Gibson stemmed from his 2004 interview with the Australian Herald Sun in which he was asked if he believed Protestants are denied eternal salvation. “There is no salvation for those outside the (Catholic) Church,” he responded. “Put it this way. My wife is a saint. She’s a much better person than I am. Honestly. She’s, like, Episcopalian, Church of England. She prays, she believes in God, she knows Jesus, she believes in that stuff. And it’s just not fair if she doesn’t make it, she’s better than I am. But that is a pronouncement from the chair. I go with it.”
Hard to believe it took her five years to leave him after he spelled out her future in Hell. Maybe he beat her and she was too scared to leave? But don’t fret if he did beat her – I’m sure Gibson went to confession afterward, so his slate is clean.
When news broke of his divorce, I kept a close eye on the situation. And sure enough, it came to fruition. Mel Gibson, like his role model Jesus Christ, has come again.
Mel Gibson has been supposedly spotted with a Russian singer named Oksana Grigorieva, a musical talent signed onto Gibson’s record label (he has a record label?). The 39 year old – Gibson’s 53 – has been tied to living in a home Gibson owns in California, a family vacation he took in Costa Rica, and also on the set of a movie Gibson was making in Boston.
Gibson, a conservative Catholic, should know that it is not a sin to get a divorce. It is a sin, however, to engage in anything physical with another woman ever again unless granted a Catholic annulment, something he isn’t eligible for due to his 357.5 children. Once married a union is created no human being can ever dissolve, and any physicality with an individual not your original spouse is tantamount to adultery, a commandment. And Gibson, a practicing Catholic, is well aware of its “mortal sin” status.
I’m not trying to give him a hard time. After all, they’re not my rules. They’re just “a pronouncement from the chair. I go with it.”
The closer this semester comes to a close the more work I seem to have, and to be honest I’m burnt out. I’m sick of the constant paper-writing and reading, and I’m sick of getting hammered at U.P.S. where they expect you to do the work of at least two people. But I get it – the economy is hurting everybody. Though I’ve never been a lotto player, the lotto for this upcoming Tuesday is for quite a lot of money and I plan on buying a ticket. The fun part of the lottery is thinking about what you’d do with all that money.
Truthfully, there isn’t a whole lot I’d want. I’d want a nice home in dual locations (Arizona during Michigan’s dreadful winters and a beautiful Lake Michigan summer home in northern Michigan) and that’s about it. The best part of such a sum of money would be being able to do what I want to do for a living. Now that’s my ultimate dream. The rest of the money, besides tons of it going to charities and randomly helping out struggling families anonymously, would go to fun things.
I’d pay a friend of mine $10,000 to speak/sing as if he were in a musical for an entire day without explaining why.
I’d have a huge parade in downtown Kalamazoo to promote local businesses. Midway through the parade it would be interrupted by a giant, inflatable Godzilla on the horizon the size of some of our larger buildings. I would pay friends of mine with Asian descent to scream bloody murder and run in the opposite direction.
I’d offer my help to the economically depressed State of Michigan by giving money in a form of a bailout on one condition – Ted Nugent would be forced to flee the state by United Autoworkers chasing him with torches and pitchforks while calling him a draft-dodging coward.
I’d have a theme song.
I’d dress up as the Kool-Aid man and kick down bathroom stalls at random locations and offer the surprised occupants kool-aid.
I’d hire former President George W. Bush to read “The Pet Goat” to Kalamazoo schoolchildren at our local library.
I’d make Michigan’s slogan “I’d rather be jobless in Michigan than employed in Ohio.”
I’d pay the United Kingdom to keep Madonna despite the divorce. She’d have to keep the English accent as well.
I’d do everything in my power to make my entourage include William Shatner and Christopher Walken.
I’d clone John Candy.
I’d pay for the Kalamazoo Police Department to be fully equipped with segways. That would be my passive-aggressive revenge.
Being deathly afraid of flying, I’d pay Oprah to sit next to me on a flight to Australia. The way I see it, not even God would dare bring Oprah down. Something tells me this would be the only way I could get to Australia.
I’d pay my boss to slap himself all day while repeating the phrase “I’ll do anything for money.”
And finally, I’d road trip down historic Route 66 and see America’s countryside, occasionally stopping at downtrodden diners and tipping local waiters and waitresses an exorbitant amount of money with a note that read “From the American spirit.”
What would everyone else do if money were never a worry?
Tomorrow the newspaper in Kalamazoo, the Kalamazoo Gazette, will publish an editorial I contributed recently. I received an email yesterday from the Gazette informing me they had decided to print the editorial on Sunday due to its larger readership. Normally I’d be flattered but I know it has nothing to do with me – it has everything to do with the response it’s more than likely going to elicit.
My editorial is in response to one written several weeks ago by another Kalamazoo resident named Hussain Turk. Mr. Turk has been quite the topic of debate over the past two months, having at the very least three articles written regarding his actions. The articles covered a protest Mr. Turk engaged in as he showed up at a pro-Israeli meeting on Western Michigan University’s campus with signs challenging Israel and decrying American policy, branding the United States “AmeriKKKa.” This became problematic due to Hussain Turk – an American - being the son of a Pakistani patriot. Though the details of the articles are sketchy, it appears there was a slight skirmish between students before the Western Michigan University police were called. Mr. Turk was escorted off campus for not having a permit to protest and, though this part I can’t verify completely, I hear he has been banned from Western’s campus. I have also heard through police rumblings, though I again cannot verify them completely, the reason he was banned was due to Turk having branded himself a terrorist.
Hussain Turk is a student at the prestigious Kalamazoo College, essentially across the street from Western. The Kalamazoo College student newspaper wrote a relatively positive article on his right to protest while the Kalamazoo Gazette wrote an editorial condemning his actions as doomed to failure, that he was basically seeking publicity rather than drawing attention to a cause he cared about. Hussain Turk responded to the Gazette editorial by writing one of his own, which is the editorial I have responded to.
Below I will publish Turk’s article and also my own should anyone feel like reading them. I mention this on here for a couple of reasons. I believe Mr. Turk to be bright and politically energetic, both great qualities. I also believe that once his youthful angst begins to subside his intelligence and passion could be put to much better use. But ultimately I mention all of this because I believe it’s very possible he will find this blog after reading my editorial. He’s smart and it shouldn’t take too much effort. And in case he does find this, there’s some background information he should know.
I have a long and mostly negative history with the Kalamazoo Gazette. The Gazette writer who criticized Mr. Turk, Julie Mack, is a writer I am not fond of particularly. In fact, after writing a letter criticizing one of her articles I personally received a phone call from Mrs. Mack so irritate (apparently my letter was offensive) that she barked at me for nearly an hour and demanded I call her back the following morning after doing “homework” to defend my claims. I called her back the next morning and got her voicemail. The only response I received back from the Kalamazoo Gazette was from a legal representative of the paper. That doesn’t even include a spat I had with a sports writer where he wrote me an email stating, “Do you have any idea how it feels to make such a mistake in front of 80,000 people?” I wrote him back and told him I didn’t but if he wanted to see quality writing he should check out my blog (with the funny part being it isn’t even that good). I never heard back from him. I’m not in positive standing with the Western Michigan University police force either, and there are court records to prove that. My point is this: you made me defend Julie Mack and the WMU police, and that’s why I know your argument was unreasonable.
Also, bring it on.
Here’s Mr. Turk’s editorial he wrote in response to Julie Mack’s criticism of his actions:
“Mack may be a self-proclaimed ‘free-speech kind of gal,’ but she is clearly not an anti-racist kind of gal. She is a white kind of gal – the white kind of gal that is intimidated by her own white shame and white guilt. While this white kind of gal fails to acknowledge the race of the white male WMU DPS officers who physically assaulted me, and the race of the white male WMU students who defaced my property, she most definitely did not fail to mention my Muslim name. And she surely did not fail to mention ‘black crime’ in her February 13th column. She seems to be working under the assumption that my Muslim name, of which I take great pride in, does not evoke a racist response in this political context. She seems to be working under the larger naive assumption that a group of bona fide, white, male, third-tier public university security guards did not internalize the beautiful milk-chocolate color of my skin, did not internalize my prominent and handsome ethnic features, did not internalize my intellectually-reasoned political dissent, did not internalize my Islamic faith, and lastly did not internalize me as just another brown, unshaven, big-nosed, American-hating, anti-Semitic Muslim terrorist.
Whether or not I was ‘looking to create a fuss’ I have absolutely every bit of legitimacy in complaining about ‘the fuss that ensued.’ Does breaking WMU’s ‘legal’ ban on freedom of speech nullify racial victimization by a group of white male authorities? I was a fool to think the First Amendment was my permit to protest. And was the rabble-rousing Rosa Parks justly beaten for sitting at the front of that bus in Montgomery, Alabama? Rosa Parks was not a tired, old, black lady. She was trained by the NAACP to break the law and sit where she sat. She was trained to be arrested. Did that legitimize racist, white, male police brutality? After all, they were simply enforcing the law – making sure that justice was served. The Civil Rights Movement was professionally organized by black intellectuals and provocateurs – not by a group of underclass, jobless, uneducated free slaves. Does that legitimize the lynchings of black men by white America? Does that legitimize the legal rape of black women by white America? When did we forget Dr. King’s revolutionary theory on civil disobedience against unjust law? Probably when we were so preoccupied with painting him as just another hyper-sexual, black misogynist.
In an informal, e-mail interview with Mack prior to the publication of her column, she refers to my tactics as ‘doomed to failure’ and ‘more intent on scoring points than having a substantial discussion on the merits’. I may have been ‘scoring points’ in the paled opinion of this white kind of gal (and other white kind of guys and gals out there), but for us disruptive, tactless colored folk, scoring points is the daily lived struggle for freedom – freedom from the bondage and enslavement of white kind of guys and gals, like Julie Mack.
As an American-born Pakistani living in America, the mental and physical abuse I experience is justified in the name of patriotism and American nationalism. On the Web at mlive.com, what I assume to be another white kind of gal by the online handle ‘MarionGrace’ responds to my January 17th viewpoint with ‘pity for Mr. Turk who is a citizen of a country, but who at the same time apparently has no respect or love for it.’ Dear MarionGrace: save your pity for when another American building is destroyed by the innately hateful, war-mongering, Jew-despising, Quran-indoctrinated, Muhammad-worshiping, taxi-driving, Arabic-speaking Muslim terrorists. And when it happens, DO NOT ask why – that’s your duty as a good, silent (white) AmeriKKKan.”
And this is my editorial in response to Hussain Turk’s to be printed tomorrow:
“I am writing in response to Hussain Turk’s letter to the editor dated March 20, 2009. In his writing Mr. Turk details his attempt at protest which he claims was stymied by the Western Michigan University Department of Public Safety. As a white male who grew up with relatively few burdens or worries inside of Kalamazoo, I will not pretend to know the difficulties Mr. Turk has faced in the past or what he is facing presently. I am a proponent of free speech, I was against the War in Iraq, and I sympathize with the quest for equality as much as my very limited experience with discrimination allows. Due to these elements in my background, I was pleased to see Mr. Turk, a self-described, ‘intellectually-reasoned’ political dissenter, discussing ‘Dr. King’s revolutionary theory on civil disobedience against unjust law.’ However, reading several of Mr. Turk’s quotes, such as his reference to ‘AmeriKKKa’ and his dedication to achieve ‘freedom from the bondage and enslavement of white kind of guys and gals,’ made me question the notes I had taken on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. as a political science grad student at Western Michigan University.
In Dr. King’s ‘Letter from Birmingham Jail,’ Dr. King wrote a letter from his jail cell to eight white Alabama clergymen who had stated social injustice was occurring against African-Americans but insisted Civil Rights should be battled out in America’s court system rather than in nonviolent protests. Dr. King, his calm demeanor in place despite the jail that caged him, penned a response to the white Alabama clergymen, calling them ‘men of genuine good will’ and stating he believed their criticism of his actions to be ‘sincerely set forth.’ He informed the clergymen his intent was to ‘answer (their) statement in what I hope will be patient and reasonable terms.’ After rereading my notes on Dr. King, perhaps I misinterpreted his message. I believed Dr. King’s message to those facing discrimination was to act reasonably, confidently, nonviolently, and persistently, knowing intolerance, no matter how mighty, shall eventually fall. I believed Dr. King’s cumulative work outlined a plan of action to future generations facing discrimination that obtaining the sympathy of the public at large is the road to success, not engaging in racial diatribes against those who oppress you, regardless of their actions.
But it is not my place to question the strategy and intent of the ‘intellectually-reasoned’ Mr. Turk. Having not faced the discrimination he has, it would be presumptuous of me. I appreciate Mr. Turk pointing out my inaccurate note-taking on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
All the best to you and your future endeavors, Mr. Turk.
Sincerely,
Scott Janssen
Political Science Graduate Student at the ‘Third-Tier Public University’ Known as Western Michigan University
I’ll admit that I watch Fox News. I never did prior to President Obama taking office, though now I often find myself tuning in while eating breakfast to hear what Fox News has to say about current events and the like. This morning Fox News mentioned a new study that suggested American textbooks were biased in favor of Islam. Having no evidence to counter this claim, I still paused. I found it very hard to believe a bias toward Islam existed in such an overtly Christian nation such as the United States, which immediately made me want to see their data. How do you judge “bias”? How do you measure it? How did they collect their information and from where?
The idea that textbooks are “biased” shouldn’t surprise many. We’ve all heard clichés such as “the history books are written by the victors.” It wasn’t until I started graduate school that I truly realized just how much politics goes into writing something as basic as a history textbook. Do you mention how humanity came to be in its current form, and if so, do you have to include evolution and creationism, or exclude one, or exclude both? Do you write the American Civil War was about freeing slaves, or do you include evidence that suggests President Lincoln freed the slaves in only the South to devastate the Southern agrarian-based, slave-dependent economy? Did the United States enter World War I due to the sinking of the Lusitania or because Germany was harassing American trading lanes to England?
My point is this: every line in a history textbook is political either for what it contains or what was excluded in favor of the line written. This does not necessarily translate into bias. Anyway, after doing some research I found this video on Fox News from one month ago that explained some of the “bias”:
http://www.foxnews.com/video-search/m/21843908/biased_textbooks.htm
The author of a book highlighting textbook propaganda and errors points out this passage first:
“Excepting the Old Testaments poetry, the Jews produced very little of note in any of the art forms…There is no record of any important (early) Jewish contributions to the sciences.”
After pointing out the above quote, the author says the writers of the history book “really go out of their way to disparage Jewish contributions.” That’s a strong statement. First of all, any time ellipses are present in a quote the quote should be slightly questioned. The very presence of ellipses suggests the individual offering the quote has changed the original text in some way, shape or form. Is it possible the author being interviewed on Fox News was engaging in bias or propaganda of his own? Why didn’t he simply put the quote as is? Now, I’m no history expert for ancient Judaism but is it possible the entry is accurate? There’s quite a difference between saying “Jews offered little in terms of art and science early” and “Jews have given us nothing of value.” Regardless of the intent of the passage – which we may not be able to infer accurately because of the author’s tampering with the original text – making the claim the authors of the historical textbook “go out of their way to disparage Jewish contributions” is too strong.
”Ten Commandments: Moral laws Moses claimed to have received from the Hebrew God Yahweh on Mount Sinai. ‘But in the glossary entry:’ “Qur’an: Holy Book of Islam containing revelations received by Muhammad from God.”
Perhaps the author has a point here, as the writers of the history textbook point out Moses “claimed” to have received commandments from God, whereas Muhammad definitively received them. It is very possible the authors knowingly chose to write the Jewish version to be a claim and the Islamic version to be true. However, it is just as likely we’re looking at poor writing and an oversight by the writers of the history textbook and also by the editing team. Anyone who has read a history textbook – which hopefully is all of us – has seen how truly vast they can be. Is it not just as plausible the wording was poorly crafted? Whichever way a person chooses to look at it, to me it appears highly suspect that this is the best evidence the author on Fox News could offer to support his theory of historical propaganda in children’s history textbooks.
”True or False: Christianity was started by a young Palestinian named Jesus. Expected Answer: True.”
Again, it is quite possible the writers of the history textbook knowingly described Jesus as a Palestinian – he wasn’t – as a sort of snub to Jews or as some form of acknowledgment of Palestine. Another possibility is author error which would be rather embarrassing for the writers and publishing company. However, I found it interesting the author on Fox News included the phrase “Expected Answer: True.” Expected by whom? The students taking the test? Is it possible the above quote was actually written incorrectly on purpose to trap students into writing “true” when in reality it’s false? Just because a history book “expects” students to select the answer “true” doesn’t mean the question itself is true. We could just be looking at a false multiple choice question.
Overall, yes, it’s possible there are history books out there that are filled with propaganda and bias. As mentioned before, every history textbook is political. However, history textbook writers have not only a fiscal incentive to write accurate books – inaccurate ones wouldn’t be purchased, as would controversial textbooks – but they have their reputations on the line as well, whereas authors writing on bias within textbooks have a fiscal motive to find controversy.
Which one is more trustworthy? I know which one I’d choose, but I don’t want to bias anyone’s opinion.
For those of you that don’t know – though I mention it a lot – I work at UPS as a preloader, meaning I work from 5-9 in the morning and load boxes off a conveyor belt into three different trucks. I have been doing this for nearly nine months, and the work is tough and physical. The worst part of the year was definitely Christmas, though lately UPS has been cutting routes (meaning those cut packages are sent to other trucks as added packages, including mine) and refusing to let us start earlier as they did at Christmas in order to avoid paying us. Thus, our volume may be lower than Christmas but it’s worse than Christmas for preloaders simply due to the high volume of packages they kick out in less time. Today our managers announced something new: they’re going to turn the conveyor belt on at nearly twice the normal speed. And as my boss followed me around and judged how I was working – even though he’s never preloaded himself – I made a work-related faux pas: I asked why they had decided to increase the belt’s speed. He reported to me the managers were alarmed at the number of damaged packages as of late, and they felt if the speed of the belt was increased, preloaders would “focus more” and there would be less damaged packages.
The rest of my shift, sweating while loading boxes in the five degree building, I wondered what exactly one of these managerial meetings entailed. This is what I concluded must be the case.
—————-
Mr. Cardozo sat at the head of a long, oak board table surrounded by men in sharply dressed suits, a contradiction given just outside the doors of the meeting room lurked a dark, poorly-heated warehouse. Mr. Cardozo hated nearly every man in the room, which is why he knew he could trust them.
“Let’s get this started and over with before the workers get here, hm?” Cardozo barked with irritability. “Lombard, as usual, read us the highlights of our meetings for the past week.”
Lombard, positioned several seats down the table, stood to address those in the board room and began to read notes off a sheet of paper.
“On Monday we agreed to a new work policy. Should any UPS driver hit a dog with their truck they are to put the truck in reverse and hit it again until the dog is dead. It’s cheaper for the company to purchase the owner a new dog than pay for time-consuming and costly medical rehabilitation bills*. Tuesday we agreed to fire all of our new employees and immediately hire them back so they won’t be eligible for health benefits for another year*. Wednesday we discussed a complaint from one of our drivers that he was left in his truck in weather twelve degrees below zero for three hours. The result was frostbite that almost cost him a toe, and he’s claiming he wasn’t picked up sooner because it wasn’t cost-effective to send someone along the corridor he was stranded until hours later*. And yesterday we decided to turn up the speed of the conveyor belts to focus the preloaders as to avoid damaged packages*.”
“Thank you, Lombard,” Cardozo grumbled with a solemn look as Lombard took his seat. “Which leads us to today’s meeting. It has come to my attention, according to some within the building, our workers are having a bit of a morale problem. I really don’t know how that could be, and personally I believe it’s the winter weather, but nonetheless let’s address it. Before we begin brainstorming for morale-raising ideas, let’s go over, once again, the primary managerial tool of UPS: demoralization.
“If you want to be an effective manager you have to master the Art of Asshole not just at work but in your personal life as well. It isn’t enough to be an Asshole at work and be something else at home. Being an Asshole isn’t like a faucet – you can’t just turn it on and off as you please. If you want to be successful you have to be an Asshole in every facet of your life. The ultimate goal of Asshole is to demoralize and break the spirits of those around you so they constantly fight for your approval. And the best way to demoralize is to defeat dreams. What do we say dreams are here at UPS?”
“Dreams are aspirations yet to be crushed,” the board chanted in monotone unison.
“Exactly. I’ll give you all an example. Last night my wife approached me nearly in tears and told me she felt I wasn’t attracted to her anymore. I gave her $100 and told her to have an itty-bitty-titty party with her girlfriends. Which leads me to another point: if you’re going to demoralize, aim at an area you know your target is self-conscious about to ensure your punch lands accurately. My wife has small breasts, so the above scenario worked. Hell, the only reason I agreed to have kids with her is so her breasts would swell, hopefully permanently. My plan, like my wife’s breasts post-birth, deflated. But that’s my battle.
“Back to the example. My wife was so crushed by the idea of an itty-bitty-titty party that later, when I did express interest in sex, she was so grateful for the attention I was able to have ‘desperate sex.’ Have you ever had ‘desperate sex’? My wife let me do things to her I couldn’t pay hookers in Mexico to do with Euros. And the Euro is really strong right now, people. After we finished my wife cuddled up to me, and when I began to feel the post-coital connection brewing within her, I told her the moans she makes when she climaxes sound identical to her sister’s.”
The board room broke out in applause. “That’s just a brilliant idea, sir,” one man exclaimed.
“Of course it is!” Cardozo snapped. “Those are the only ideas I have. Now, does anyone have a Art of Asshole story of their own?” Cardozo noticed a hand slowly rise to the left side of the board table. “Go ahead, Jennings. The floor is yours.”
“Well,” Jennings began after clearing his throat, “my ten year old son is constantly trying to get me to attend his little league baseball games. I’ve been trying to come up with excuses not to go for years because I really just hate going, and he’s just a turd out there. He’s a really terrible player. Two days ago he asked me again and I had had enough – I told him he was adopted.”
“Well done,” Cardozo responded matter-of-factly. “Do you see what Jennings did? By telling his son he’s adopted he’s accomplished two things: one, he can now claim his son’s terrible athleticism isn’t his fault because they’re not related, and two, the kid will more than likely spend lots of time in the future trying to track down biological parents he’ll never find. Jennings will have the peace and quiet away from his son that he wanted.”
“There was an issue,” Jennings said, bringing the eyes of the board upon him yet again. “I was really frustrated with my son’s poor athleticism and it got the best of me. See, I’m a winner, so it’s really hard to watch my son fall short. I told him the only way he’d ever have success in life was if I rubbed off on him. So I tried to do that – the cops came shortly after I did.”
“I heard about that incident,” Cardozo replied, leaning back confidently in his seat, his expensive black suit providing perfect contrast to his brilliantly white teeth. “I assure you the full weight of UPS’s legal team is behind you. The government has no right to intervene with your business methods – hell, who needed a bailout package, them or us? We’ll get you off so you can get back to rubbing off on your son in no time.”
The board room shifted notes around temporarily before Cardozo brought the issue of worker morale back to the forefront.
“What exactly is morale?” Dunn, another black suit, asked.
“Brilliant!” Cardozo shouted, slamming his fist down on the oak desk causing it to shake. “Well stated, Dunn. Morale doesn’t matter and we shouldn’t treat it as if it can be defined. Morale is nothing short of a barometer we use to see whether our Art of Asshole is working. Take a long look at Dunn, people. He’s a rising star and is what you should all aspire to be.”
Cardozo noticed a hand slowly rise from the other end of the table.
“You know, Lou, it’s amazing to me you’re still willing to raise your hand. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a joke, which is why you wear that dunce cap on your head every meeting. Are you sure you still want to speak? Odds are you’re going to make a fool of yourself again.”
Lou chose to speak, though all in the board room couldn’t avert their gaze to anywhere but the white dunce cap resting on his head. “I’ve tried to say this for a long time now, and I’m not trying to beat a dead horse here, but Dunn is – he’s mentally challenged. I wish you’d at least acknowledge that. I mean, he’s eating his own earwax as I’m speaking.”
All eyes darted to Dunn as he deliberated eating a piece of earwax resting on the edge of his fingertip before he ultimately placed it on his tongue.
“Damnit, it’s a metaphor, Lou! He’s trying to show us good things can come from dark places. Maybe if you tried to challenge yourself mentally like Dunn you wouldn’t have that cap on your head. Lou, go stand in the corner and don’t make eye contact with any of us the rest of this meeting.”
“Sir, it’s ‘mentally challenged,’ not ‘challenge mentally.’ You can’t just rearrange the words to give them a different meaning.” Lou’s pleas were ignored as Cardozo didn’t respond, instead merely pointing to the corner of the room. Lou, dejected, lowered his head and walked into a corner, his back turned to the rest of the board, dunce cap resting atop his hair.
“Somebody get Dunn an office. He’s earned it,” Cardozo decided.
“Sir, there’s only one office in the building and it’s yours,” a suit piped up.
“Then build him one out of used boxes! And make it right next to my office, but make his smaller. His office will be known as the ‘Inner Ear’, and from now on Dunn’s nickname is ‘Vestibulum’ because he provides balance to this place, unlike the rest of you idiots. Send out a memo.”
After Cardozo finished his orders, three suits rushed out of the room to carry them out.
“Anyway, back to the morale thing. What can we do to help out the workers? Any ideas?” Cardozo queried, irritated and ready for the meeting to end.
“What if we made the preloaders have uniforms, and the uniforms were pink. And whenever a manager walks by the preloaders have to sing ‘I Feel Pretty.’”
“Dunn, you rat bastard, you’ve done it again!” Cardozo bellowed in approval. “There’s no better way to raise morale than to feel good about how you look. Order the uniforms at once! Meeting dismissed!”
All the suits rushed out of the board room to fulfill the rest of Cardozo’s orders except Dunn. He remained seated, drooling and staring at the wall.
“The sky’s the limit for you, Dunn,” Cardozo said rhetorically while slapping Dunn on the back. “You’re like the son I never wanted to neglect. Together, the two of us are going to revolutionize how the world does business.”
Footnote:
The * indicates what was said actually happened and is 100% true.
I could use your help. I’m currently taking a comparative political economy course and soon I’ll be doing a research design project. I’ve chosen my topic on economic voting, and I plan on doing a comparison between the United States and Australia. While I have access to academic research done by Australian political scientists on the economic voting trends of Australians, I need help in one department: my lack of genuine knowledge of how your executive and legislative branches function. A judicial comparison won’t be necessary.
I’ll admit, I knew Australia had a parliamentary form of government and erroneously assumed that would mean a proportional form of representation. I sadly learned from Wikipedia Australia has a two-party system like the United States. I’m willing to admit it because it’s sad I didn’t know it in the first place.
Basically, I need to know how your legislature and executive powers function in comparison to our congress and president. While I can do research and read up on them (and I will), I figured I could learn a lot more from individuals who truly live there.
Any help would be truly appreciated (and I’ll give you a nod of special thanks in my paper).
Thanks in advance!
Maybe it’s the terrible, bitterly cold weather we’re having in Michigan (we’re on pace to obliterate the snow record we set last year) or just the fact we’ve only seen sunlight three or four times since October, but I got to thinking about Las Vegas today and made the picture above the background to my laptop. I visited Las Vegas at the age of twenty-one and fresh off a break-up of a long term relationship. I needed to get out of Kalamazoo in the worst way, and longtime friend, Mike Frey, was there to help.
“You know what you need? One word, buddy: Vegas. You and me.” And while flying has always scared the bejesus out of me, I realized that after a relationship ends you don’t seem to be scared of anything. So off we went, America’s greatest city and playground for adults our destination.
After landing I couldn’t believe my eyes. Frey and I walked down the strip while I blared the music below, which for one reason or another I had always associated with Las Vegas.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-lbIfaqm0U
Leave it to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, with a lead singer from Michigan, to take crap music from Ohio (The Ohio Players) and morph it into something bad ass.
The flashing lights. The desert heat. Buildings as tall as the sky itself. A large pyramid not far from an Eiffel Tower on the horizon. Endless blue sky and sunshine. The sound of slot machines echoing across the city. Beautiful women from around the globe everywhere. Comedy club galore. Within ten seconds of being inside Las Vegas’s city limits, I had fallen in love. It’s the only place I’ve ever been where a homeless man on the corner can be seen in an Armani suit and tie twelve hours later, taunting his former homeless friends before driving off in a limo, girls in both arms. It’s a nexus of the universe where capitalist excess at its peak directly intersects broken dreams of those who risked it all and lost. It’s effing fantastic.
And while I’ve yet to return to that magical place since that trip, I look back at my time there fondly, and recall some of the best moments of my college years. Having never encountered porn peddlers before, we stood and watched Hispanic individuals with broken English on corners passing out leaflets to strip clubs and, more than likely, prostitution rings. Frey and I studied their methods for awhile before taking the initiative handing out leaflets with them for free. Because we could. And I enjoyed watching Frey debate one Hispanic porn peddler try to hand Frey a picture of a blonde hair, blue eyed girl. “Spend time with daughter of mine,” he kept repeating. “That can’t be your daughter,” Frey protested, and spent several minutes debating genetics with a man who had no clue what Frey was saying. And ultimately we decided to leave the porn peddlers alone when, after I had asked for a picture with one and he refused (I was under the impression he feared Immigration and Naturalization Services), Frey took it upon himself by taking a picture of the two of us arguing about having a picture. And Frey and I proceeded to laugh while running our way down the crowded, sunny strip as we were chased by the ringleader of the peddlers on a bicycle, angry we had taken a picture, and shouting obscenities in Spanish.
Having never been to a place where open alcohol containers was legal, Frey and I took full advantage. We awoke at 8 AM and stopped by a local liquor store, Frey buying a case of beer I can’t recall, while I had a case of Guinness. And we walked the strip, drinking as fast as we could, getting wildly intoxicated by 8:45 AM. I had never been drunk in the morning, and I had never been drunk in the middle of a blistering hot desert. It was everything I dreamed it could be. In fact, Las Vegas is so tolerant Frey and I stopped to get our picture taken with a local police officer on patrol, beers in hand and slurring our words, telling him he was “so much effing cooler” than the cops in Kalamazoo. “Wait, I want – I want to say something,” I stammered to him before he continued his beat. “Wait, hold on. I want to say something. You’re like, you probably don’t know this, or maybe you do,” I repeated, slurring. “You’re probably the coolest cop on the planet earth right now, do you know that, Officer Cool?” He politely smiled, told us to be careful, and walked away. “To the boys in blue!” I shouted after him, dropping the can of Guinness I had planned on chugging in his honor. My Irish grandma would have been ashamed – I let Guinness hit the ground.
We got kicked out of a casino at 4 AM. I didn’t even know it was possible to get escorted out of a building in Las Vegas.
One morning after stopping to buy yard long margaritas, Frey and I ducked into the Wayne Newton-headlined Stardust Casino to escape the heat. Frey was badly burned and kept complaining about being unable to cool down while I bought a couple of tickets to play the game Keno. After ten minutes or so of looking at monitors and matching numbers, my heart sank when I came one number shy of winning $10,000. I began to explain to Frey the massive parties we would have had that night with all that money (pimp hats, fur coats, baby powder and bitch-be-cool sticks for everyone) when I noticed Frey jumping out of his seat abruptly, announcing he was going to be sick. He had finished a yard long margarita in a dangerously short amount of time, and as he ran to the bathroom I shouted after him, “Be sure to puke on Wayne Newton’s face!”
Turning my attention back to the monitors, I mumbled to myself, “I hate that guy.” After several moments I felt a gaze upon me and turned to note an older man, more than likely in his sixties, looking at me disapprovingly in a Hawaiian shirt.
“What are you, Wayne Newton’s brother? Mind your business,” I shot at him, dismissively. “Maybe you should use that same judging when picking out your shirts next time. This is Vegas, not Boca Raton, Newton-loving sonofabitch,” I continued, mumbling slightly loud enough to be heard. Yes, I was an asshole back then but I had just gotten out of a relationship (I’ve learned that excuse can carry you far).
I love the fact we went on a tour of the Hoover Dam that included a picture next to the Dam, but rather than take our picture in front of it the photographer pulled down a screen with a picture of the Dam as a background even though the real thing was directly behind us. I have a lovely picture of Frey and me, sun-soaked, laughing beside the Hoover Dam.
And as Frey and I were at the airport waiting to leave, heavily intoxicated, I snapped at Frey to keep it together and act sober so as to not get banned from the flight. With that message I went to the bathroom, and, being intoxicated myself, didn’t quite slide my jeans down far enough at the urinal. My drunk, hypercritical self returned to the waiting Frey with a stain near the top of my pants he laughed about for hours.
As we waited for the plane to board I noticed two kids around the ages of ten and eight staring at us occasionally while playing handheld video games. “I think – I think they’re judging me because of the stain, Frey. I wanna – I wanna kick his ass.”
Frey turned his attention to the boys. “I don’t know man, the one guy, the older one, he looks pretty intense. He might know martial arts,” Frey slurred. “I think we should leave them be.”
I took his advice, and as we boarded the plane I looked directly at the boy, made a karate-chop gesture, and pointed at him. He laughed hysterically and poked his brother to get his attention. They were intimidated. I could tell.
God Bless Las Vegas.
For most people inside of America – and my guess is outside observers as well – the pinnacle of politics is nothing short of the United States presidential election, and poll numbers bear this out as well, with a stark decline in voting during Congressional elections in off presidential years. But with President Obama’s recent taking of office, and with a controversial stimulus package that, should it be passed, totals 1.4 trillion dollars, interest in politics may still be high. And I figured I could potentially lend some help by offering some information I have learned in grad school so far (which also helps me review, so thanks to all of you for that), and also to stick it to some classmates of mine who have made it known that the constant studying, the spending of thousands upon thousands of dollars, the lack of a social life, etc., is done to make grad students academic elites, and if “lay” people wish to know this material they can run the gauntlet as well. *Cough* Assholes *Cough*. And here I thought the goal was knowledge and to offer it to anyone interested in listening. Guess I was wrong.
With all of this in mind, I’ll explain to any of those willing to listen my take on things based on what I’ve learned so far, and I’ll start by admitting completely that I’m a staunch Democrat. But I will be as neutral as humanly possible when writing this because, if Democrats are to better themselves (and there’s always room for improvement), they must accept and admit what threats lay on the horizon – and in the mirror – and what they can do to meet them. So here goes, explaining the pros and cons of each party as things stand currently.
Democrats
Fresh off a historic win, the Democrats are sitting in a powerful position with control over two branches of government, and with potential to strongly influence the third pending Supreme Court justices retiring. But the most potent tool at the Democratic Party’s disposal lies in the hands of the president. An overlooked, but something I feel he will be prominently remembered by, strength of President Obama came in the form of his revolutionizing campaigning. He was able to raise funds on an unprecedented level, but his true power came from his ability to pick up email addresses and cell phone numbers along the way, especially from the youth, which turned out to be a dominating force in the presidential elections. How President Obama plans to utilize those tools in the future, and whether or not the youth will continue to listen, is still a mystery, but he should tread carefully. Contacting a person by text or email repeatedly for support on a given issue or to donate money eventually will jade into apathy, so he must be careful when and how often he uses this power. And no, Mr. President, I will not pay $25 for an inauguration lapel pin, so stop emailing me about it (and such requests for money for trivial items in this economy may be a bad idea).
There are plenty of dangers on the radar for the Democratic Party despite how well things currently are, yet the most significant ones can be found in history and public relations. With new Congressional elections less than two years away, they should already be worried about losing seats. It’s a historical rarity for one party to control the executive and legislative branches simultaneously, and it has happened twice in the past decade alone (President Bush had control of all three branches from January 2001 to November 2006, and President Obama will have control over two from now until, at the very least, November 2010). Americans typically distrust the idea of one party having complete control, and while a sweep of Democratic power to counteract what the Republicans had has occurred, it seems only natural, and historically accurate, that the next Congressional election will restore the norm by reverting to a Republican Congress.
On top of a heavy-handed history that may give Democrats no choice but to accept an impending Republican Congress, Democrats are surely doing nothing to help their own cause with Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid in charge of the House and Senate respectively. Both have had terrible approval ratings since they took charge in 2006, and truthfully, even I dislike both. There’s a smugness and arrogance amongst both that I find off-putting (though Reid comes off more as incompetent than cocky), and if I find both leaders to be in bad taste, the Democrats are in trouble – I’m about as left as they come. But my condemnation comes from their leadership.
In Cox and McCubbins’ Setting The Agenda we learned that leaders of the House keep their members in line by only bringing up issues all members can support (and ignoring powder keg issues). For instance, Democrats have a wide-ranging coalition of constituents: African-Americans, Hispanics, women, union workers, etc., and all have differing values and may not agree on all issues. This has historically been a reason why Democrats have struggled to win elections – their base was far too diverse, though this is rapidly morphing into a strength rather than a liability. And currently, though I won’t go into too much detail, the Democratic Party does have a majority, but many of their members are Conservative Democrats from the likes of Montana, Idaho, and Virginia, and are likely to support Republican ideals in matters of the family and gun rights. This means, of course, Democrats aren’t in as strong of a position as they appear with their majority.
With this knowledge in hand – and if I’m aware of it surely an experienced leader like Nancy Pelosi is as well – we have to wonder what Nancy Pelosi is up to. She attempted to attach funding to contraception and birth control in the economic stimulus package, arguing women who don’t have children they are unable to support will lower costs of the states. How people feel on this issue is irrelevant – what is relevant is why she would attempt to attach such a controversial topic that would not only alienate some within Democratic ranks but mobilize Republican unity as well. Is the attachment so important as to risk political consequences? I find this doubtful, so we have to question her motives. Is it arrogance and a sign she’s willing to abuse her majority power by jamming polarizing issues down the minority Republican throat, or is she simply incompetent? Either way, with Pelosi and Reid’s negative image coupled with the weight of history, a Republican Congress in 2010 is nearly assured if drastic action in Congressional leadership is not taken by Democrats.
Republicans
Depending on your political persuasion, the current state of Republican affairs leaves a person ecstatic or depressed. The Republican Party, at a national level, is nearly dead, and I don’t say this lightly.
This map represents voting increase by county for either Democrats or Republicans in comparison to the 2004 elections. As you can see, Democratic voting increased everywhere in the United States except a belt along the Appalachian Mountains that saw an increase in Republican voting. Republicans, until they fix their race and gender problem, are going to continue to see losses like the one above – though not necessarily as bad as the one they just sustained – nationally.
The political makeup of the United States is as follows: 45-45-10, meaning 45% of Americans are either Democrat or Republican with 10% being “independent,” though I feel compelled to say the idea of “independents” is widely unsubstantiated. Studies have shown independents are, in some cases, even more partisan than their Republican and Democrat colleagues, and many within this 10% are merely apathetic and don’t vote. Thus, if either party can capture something along the lines of a 60% share, a loss of that margin is considered devastating due to capturing not just the apathetic and independent voters, but poaching a bit of the other side as well. With that being said, let’s look at the numbers from this past election:
Remember to keep in mind that 60% is a crushing blow. Democrats captured 95% of the African-American vote, 67% of the Hispanic vote, 62% of the Asian vote, and 56% of the female vote. The Democrats only managed to secure 43% of the White vote, a near blowout in favor of Republicans. Historically, the voting numbers seen above have played out in nearly every election. So what’s the difference this time around?
The difference is the power of Whites – specifically white men – which has been historically the cornerstone of the Republican Party is nearing an end. Hispanics, Asians, African-Americans, and women are emerging as the new force, not just politically, but in population. With that in mind, the numbers seen above are mind-blowing. It will take generations to begin to earn the trust and votes of these groups, but potentially much longer, as the current youth – which turned out to be the strongest force in the election – voted for the Democrats with a whopping 66%. My generation, even if the Democrats lost 10% throughout the upcoming years, is a loss to the Republican Party. Republicans will have to wait for current children to recruit.
The Republican Party, on the positive side, can be seen as taking a step in the right direction by recently electing Michael Steele to the head of the Republican National Committee. It marks the first time an African-American has led the Republican Party. However, it’s going to be a long process, as one of the other frontrunners for the position had issued songs on a CD to other Republicans with title tracks such as “Barack the Magic Negro,” a play on “Puff the Magic Dragon,” and also a song entitled “The Star Spanglish Banner,” with a starting line of, “Jose, can you see?” The other Republican National Committee frontrunner took offense to media criticism and defended himself by stating the songs were merely a joke. Even if we assume that’s true, such punch lines go far from warming up to voting bases the Republican Party will need to get votes from if they ever intend on winning at a national level again.
All hope is not lost, however. Despite the gloomy national forecast, local elections shouldn’t be impacted by national conditions. After all, not every voting district has high proportions of minorities, and those with heavy white populations can expect to continuously churn out Republicans on a consistent basis. Essentially, Congressional power shouldn’t be influenced too much by the changing voting makeup, at least initially. It could take a long time before these national events (to borrow a Republican phrase) “trickle down” to the local level. And with what appears to be impending Democratic dominance in the future of the Oval Office, there’s no reason to not expect the old historical splitting of political branches to appear yet again, with Republicans becoming a force in Congress.
Conclusions
One more circumstance should be worthy of note: the voting on the stimulus package. Nearly every Democrat in the House voted for the package and every single Republican voted against it, which is tantamount to the Republican Party drawing a line in the sand. Republicans, by uniting unanimously against the stimulus plan, are making it plainly clear to the public that whether the package fails or succeeds will solely be on the hands of the Democrats.
Such a move is a daring gamble, one I think is nothing short of a political game of Russian roulette. The Republican Party has still yet to shake the shadows and images of being for big business and doing very little to curb the Great Depression, and if the economic stimulus package succeeds they will have reinforced that image yet again, taking an image hit that may take well over one hundred years to shake. But one political strategist far brighter than me put it this way: “The Republican Party is placing all their chips in the pot on the economic stimulus package, but the problem is this: they’re betting the package will fail, which would result in economic catastrophe for America. And as a political party, any time you’re putting your money on America failing, even if you’re correct, you still lose.”
If the economic stimulus package succeeds, will the Democrats maintain their current power in Congress or even gain seats despite the Pelosi-Reid leadership and history? Will President Obama be able to send texts and emails to today’s youth, currently the most powerful voting bloc in America, in order to mobilize a successful Congressional vote for Democrats in 2010? While the answers to these questions are unknowable, the facts that will lead to their outcome are presented above.
There is one thing, however, I believe we can all unite behind. The era of white, male dominance is now a thing of the past. The era of Female, Hispanic, African-American, and other minority candidates is upon us. A rush to find the next “it” politician from these camps will be extraordinarily high, and why I believe current governor of Louisiana, Bobby Jindal, whose parents emigrated from India, will be the next presidential nominee of the Republicans in 2012. Regardless of motive, the United States should be proud its formerly marginalized members of society are about to become the most powerful individuals in America.
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