Senator Al Franken

Live Al Franken was trumped in the news by dead Michael Jackson today. During my break at work at the airport, I checked the TVs carrying FOX News and CNN, and both were engrossed with the lamenting and gnashing of teeth over Jackson's 24 carat coffin. Who says you can't take it with you?

I hear C-SPAN2 aired Franken's swearing in as Minnesota's second Senator. Which means all of 50 people watched it.

I'm exaggerating, of course. I'm sure the C-SPAN2 viewership was closer to 12.

One would come away believing that Michael Jackson was a Man of the People, and Al Franken was an elisitist out of touch with every day folks, when just the opposite is true. More's the pity for the health and welfare of the American people that we have such a backward --- I beg your pardon: backassed--- view of reality.

Michael Jackson gave money to support children. But not for the right reasons.

Michael Jackson, dead or alive, ain't much help for you an' me an' the economy. Al Franken can be.

Victory Rally, July 1

I wasn't planning on being in the thick of things last Wednesday, July 1, when I got off the bus at the Capitol in St. Paul for Al Franken's victory rally. My plan was to observe from the sidelines, because then it's easier to escape the Fringe Lunatics who show up at every political rally. Unfortunately, everyone thinks you're with the Loonies if you're on the sidelines.

I arrived early enough to stand at the top of the steps before the Capitol lawn, where a podium was set up. A sound technician was skeptically eyeing his snaking electrical chords, and people in blue Al Franken for Senator T-shirts were here and there in small clusters, grinning and congratulating each other.

A young man in a white Franken tee politely shooed non-players from the area near the podium, including me. I was about to comply, when I decided to shove my hair, which was blowing in my face, under my black cap with the word Writer embroidered on it. Another man in a Franken T-shirt looked at me, paused, and said, cryptically, "Your hat gives you away." He invited me to stand with the Press. I had no press pass, and Franken's staff had every right to give me the heave-ho as a non-entity of the Media. But, for reasons unknown but very much appreciated, I was placed right in the thick of things.

I was standing among House Speaker Margaret Kelliher, Senator Larry Pogemiller, Representatives Keith Ellison and Leon Lillie, and Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Ryback, who all regarded me with momentary puzzlement, but smiled, nodded, and went about shaking hands, slapping backs, and glowing. A crowd of several hundred gathered before the steps, waving signs and saying, "Finally! Finally!"

A speaker, whose name I didn't write down, primed the gathering. "Welcome to the fight (Al)! Welcome to the battle!" Rep. Keith Ellison's speech was greeted with whoops and woofing, as he declared that Franken would fight for "real workers' rights...health care for all...fifty million hoping they don't fall off a ladder..." Rep. Leon Lillie stood behind Ellison, accompanied by his teenage daughter.

When a black SUV arrived, the politicians, by some instinct, went silent as one and turned as one, watching. Al and Franni Franken emerged on the sidewalk, Al buttoning his jacket and scanning the scene. He walked right by me on his way to the podium. Where the hell's security? I thought. Having grown up with the assassinations, and attempted assassinations, of many politicians, I'm a bit paranoid. The police were standing beside their patrol cars, parked at the bottom of the Capitol's steps. I didn't see any dark suits and sunglasses that would have grabbed me, if I decided to club Franken to death with my Moleskin. Perhaps invisibility is considered an advantage.

I was just to the left of Rep. Lillie and Senator-Elect Franken, all four-foot-nine of me, not able to see over the Representative's shoulder (he's a tall guy). I've scoured the Internet, but I can't discover a single photo where I, or at least the top of my cap, can be seen. This one comes the closest.

Several articles have already reported what Franken said that day, including his best lines. ("'Franni and I are running for Senator, and if we win I get to be Senator.' Well honey, I get to be the Senator. I get to be the Senator because of you. (Without you) I would have lost. By kind of a lot." "I wish I could take you all with me, but we cost it out. It's just too much. So I need you to (work) in Minnesota.")

What held me, and pleased me, was Franken's renewed vow to "rebuild our economy...put people back to work...improve the lives of Minnesotans...That is what Paul Wellstone said politics is about. Paul said politics is about improving (folks') lives." His voice caught as he said, "Franni and I were just lucky," and that they "wouldn't have had health care if I hadn't been a member of a union." Franken didn't back away from his embrace of labor and the working poor, which, I confess, I was afraid he might do, once he had won the Senate seat. I'm fully aware he can't control whether what he attempts succeeds, but his intention to make the attempt is what matters to me.

The second Franken ended his speech, the crowd swept around him, and me. I tread water in the ocean of people demanding Franken's attention. Rep. Lillie's daughter was stranded next to me, so I made chit-chat until the current freed us (she's a intelligent, charming, and talented young woman). The official Media moved with Franken, but Franni passed close by me. She had been extremely kind to me when I met her at the rally where Franken had announced he was running for Senator, having gone out of her way to help me find the Capitol's press room. I stuck my hand out to her and said, "Franni, Moira Manion. I'm so happy to---" She took my hand.

Franni Franken gives the appearance of a slight, possibly frail, children's librarian. Then you learn she has a handshake that could crack walnuts. Most politicians and their family members have nice, strong, self-assured grips. Franni's long, delicate hand could be used to force confessions or votes that cross party lines. ("I'll let go, Senator, the moment you see things Al's way.") If her enthusiasm could be harnessed, Minnesota would have all the renewable energy it needs.

"Oh, thank you!" Franni said, and mercifully released my hand.

Having not learned my lesson, I offered my hand to Speaker Kelliher and introduced myself. Both her hands encased mine. "I've heard you on Marketplace!" she cried, squeezing. "I love your work!" I blurted something inane about being happy to meet a woman speaker, and other idiocies that proved beyond a doubt that I'm absolute crap at making small talk.

The politicians and their staffs separated into small clutches as the crowd faded away. I sat on the Capitol steps and caught a few whiffs of conversation. "...he needs to clear his head..." "...Governor's race...?"

My second reason for coming to the Capitol that day was to go to the Senate Information Office to gather research for a children's middle-grade book I'm beginning to write. Inside, the Capitol was still. I was able, for once, to admire its breath-taking interior without herds of school kids and tourists in my way. It was in this quiet that I met, and had a great conversation with, Burt, the building's Plant Manager. He spoke of working in such a beautiful building, of enjoying fishing and camping, about belonging to a union and having health care.

Americans are misguided in watching Michael Jackson's over-wrought funeral instead of Al Franken's swearing in as a United States' Senator because Jackson didn't really give a damn about people like Burt and me. But Al Franken does.

Franken vs Jackson

Jackson "redefined" music, sold more music than anybody, inspired young performers. That's all he did. Don't get me wrong; I place a high value on entertainers. When you're unemployed, depressed, rejected, lonely, sick and tired, entertainers can make all the difference between whether you succumb to the slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune, or laugh, wipe your eyes, and decide to give life another chance. I know: I've been there.

But Michael Jackson couldn't influence how much you're paid. Or whether you're protected from dangerous chemicals. Or if the nation's banks collapse and take you with them. Or if you go to war. Entertainers like to flatter themselves that, due to their popularity and occasional wealth, they can influence policy. They give speeches at rallies, they appear before Congressional committees. But when it comes to votes from the Floor, to whose name is going on record for or against a thing, I don't believe politicians take into consideration what the stars of Twilight would do.

Most people don't know who their Representative is, and don't care. They couldn't say how their Senator voted on any topic that might change their lives. My coworkers couldn't care less who's in office, but they can tell me who was voted off American Idol.

This is why Tim Pawlenty can hack away at benefits for every day, hard-working people. More than half of the people who'll be affected by his unallotment cuts aren't even aware of what he's doing.

Al Franken's been an entertainer. Newspaper and Internet articles, radio and TV broadcasts, have all debated whether he can be taken seriously as a politician. Apparently a sense of humor has to be removed before working within the Beltway. Only Mark Russell and The Capitol Steps get Special Dispensations. Fellow Senators feel they have to assure the public, and the Hill, that Franken won't whip out a rubber chicken and Whoopee Cushion on the Senate Floor. Senator/Representative/Mayor [fill in the blank] confessed to cheating on his wife/taxes, but my god, Franken's been a satirist!

The difference between an entertainer like Jackson and an entertainer like Franken is, as John Adams sings in 1776, "Commitment!"

Franken proudly proclaimed himself a Liberal when it could have cost him an audience. If he was only trying to "build a brand," he was choosing the wrong ideology at the wrong time. Sure, his books sold. They were the only books we Liberals could find to read on the shelves choked with Limbaugh, Coulter, and O'Reilly. Franken weilded humor because it's the most effective weapon against demagogues.

All politicians are performers. Al Franken may be slinging the bull like so many others. Or he may be sincere now, but become corrupted in the rarefied atmosphere of D.C. But for now, he's at least singing the song I want to hear. If he doesn't deliver, he's easily removed.

Time will tell, of course, whether the public can take Franken seriously. But even if the public has reason to, will they? Or will the public be too obsessed with the latest useless celebrity who earns enough to feed Appalachia, and doesn't?

,

Al Franken Victory Rally at the Capitol!

I'll be there, the woman with the black cap that says "Writer," who'll be grinning to beat the band. Hope you can be there, too.What a great way to celebrate the 4th of July early!

http://www.dfl.org/

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/la-na-franken1-2009jul01,0,1645485.story

Quick (somewhat snarky) Comment: Let's Go for Celebrity Death Number 3!

Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett dying on the same day. It seems so.....appropriate.

The Myth has it that celebrities die in threes. David Carradine died too long ago to be included in this grouping, and wouldn't fit the Pop/Kitsch Theme. Liza Minelli or Elizabeth Taylor would complete the triad nicely.

It's not that I'm wholly insensitive. But Michael Jackson was a man of means beyond the dreams of Avarice, who faced the same demons hundreds of thousands of people without the same opportunities and financial resources battle and conquer every day, and yet some expect the public should feel pity for him. Sorry you had a messed up childhood, Michael, but you were hardly alone. And by some accounts, which may or may not have been closed with very, very large checks, you messed up the childhood of a few innocents yourself. Yet all the money, isolation, hyperbartic chambers and tabloid-reported diets didn't keep your heart pumping...if that is indeed what did you in. I'll reserve my empathy for the thousands of good people who've never been accused of hurting children who can't get chemo or by-passes because they can't afford health insurance.

For the next several weeks, it'll be bloody hard to escape your falsetto voice, even if I don't turn on my radio or TV. Every airport, gas station, and elevator will be shrill with your muzak. This is your legacy. Sorry, but I'd rather hear James Brown. Soon Broadway will do a musical of your self-created tragedy (I hear keyboards clicking already). A movie or movies are almost certainly in the works. Meanwhile, people of relative unknown who have wonderful talent are out there, doing good work and not self-destructing. Did you ever hear Norbert Leo Butz sing, Michael? Man, what a voice. He can act, too. Won a Tony for Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, did a great job on a recent Law & Order.

Farrah had hair, a red bathing suit, and timing. It was 1977, America was trying to forget the violence of the 60s, the shame of Nixon, and was weary from idealism. America wanted mindlessness. Enter disco and Charlie's Angels. Forget Feminism and "Sisterhood is Powerful." Give us some T&A in high school boys' lockers. I was in 10th grade when Farrah invaded, her vapidity grinning at me from T-shirts and shampoo commercials. I thought, If that's what boys want, they're as stupid as I think they are. Farrah couldn't act her way out of a paper bag, but she was Rich and Famous. Meanwhile, Meg Foster, a very fine actress, was replaced after doing the pilot for Cagney & Lacey, because her character was "too strong." (She's fanatastic in PBS' The Scarlet Letter http://www.amazon.com/Scarlet-Letter-Josef-Sommer/dp/B00008DDS0 )

And even though Farrah never developed a speck of talent, she remained a "Star." It seems disproportionate. With the current historically inaccurate 70s nostalgia, no doubt Farrah's gormless grin will return for posters, t-shirts, and courier bags. And I'll respond by watching Meg Foster as Hester Pryne, having true, authentic, remarkable talent.

It's no wonder that children don't dream of being excellent, but of being famous.

ADDENDUM: Rachel Dykoski and Rebecca Marjesdatter have informed me that Ed McMahon completes the Celebrity Croaking Triad. I no longer have TV, being one of those people who obviously didn't panic sufficiently about getting a convertor box. With the exception of local news and a few PBS shows, I don't miss television. If I did receive digital TV, I'd turn it off, in order to escape the Jackson Tribute barrage. Even public radio has succumbed to reports of how people from Dubai to Dublin are mourning Jackson.

By the by, Rachel Dykoski reports that she "...Just had a bone marrow biopsy and aspiration." Yet she can still laugh. And here I've been complaining about the heat. My encouraging thoughts are with you, Rachel, for what they're worth! To read Rachel's work, click on the link to the left, under Cool Blogs.

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Of Wolverines and Men: A Musing on Males

"Oh m'gawd, he's so hot!" sputtered a woman who works in the same airport I do, in reaction to various males who pass by. "Oh m'gawd, I mean, WOW, jeez!" She fanned her face, stuck out her tongue, and panted. "Doncha think he's hot, Moira?! Doncha?!"

I remained silent and focused on controlling my hands, which were gripped behind my back in order to keep them from throttling the woman. I'd told her several times that I didn't want to hear about her fantasies, but she gives me almost daily reports. This woman has a brain the size of a raisin. That is, she would if she had a brain.

Old School that I am, I don't consider my tastes in men any of her business.

I learned a long time ago that being attracted to a man who isn't attracted to me is a waste of my time. Of course it's a universal human experience to desire someone who wouldn't scrape you off the asphalt if you were flattened by a truck. Well, call me a fool, but life is too short to long after someone who doesn't long after me. If a man doesn't demonstrate that he's attracted to me, by asking me out for coffee, by a note or email, or by simply telling me, "Hey, I think you're attractive," I don't care how "sexy" or "hot" he may be. As George Wither (1588-1667) wrote (changing gender):

Be he fairer than the day
Or the flow'ry meads in May
If he think not well of me,
What care I how fair he be?

I've known men who were literally film-star handsome. With the exception of two, they had the personality and depth of wallpaper. Being able to get any woman they wanted, their attitude towards women who weren't beautiful was to treat them with condescension and contempt, or to ignore them completely. Thus my attitude towards handsome men is to assume they're assholes until proven otherwise. (One exception is a friend who resented having been judged by his good looks since he was a baby, and loathed the unwanted sexual attention he'd received, by woman and men, all his life. But he used his looks to make a career for himself and to support his family, and I admire that.)

I confess that I think it's Fair Play that America's obsession with youth and physical perfection is now putting pressure on men the way it has always done on women.

Look at this guy (actor Jason Isaacs, right). Great facial expression. He has lines and wrinkles, but they make his face interesting. He looks like someone with whom you could have a fascinating conversation and a great laugh. (Keeping in mind, naturally, that looks can be deceiving. He might be the biggest jerk on the planet, for all I know.)

A woman with the same lines and wrinkles would be sent packing to the nearest plastic surgeon.


Then there's this guy (actor Clive Owen, left). I love his face. It's rugged, it looks like he's lived a life and may have tales to tell about it. His face has personality.

Now look at what happened to his face when Lancome Cosmetics made him a spokesman (below, left).







They Photo-Shopped out all his personality, spackled and grouted his wrinkles, then covered him with a veneer of plaster, paint, and shellac. I've known drag queens who wore less makeup.

Apparently Lancome determined that women, or gay men, are attracted to robots.

Who decides this stuff? "Hey Marketing team, our polls show that heterosexual women want men with faces as smooth as babies' butts."

(I'm still furious with whoever started the "Hairless Men" fad, and brainwashed women into desiring men who look like models for Twink. There are those of us who love a thick carpet of male hair.)

Of course, women --some women, that is-- are happy to go for men who are, shall we say, slightly better than grotesque. That is, if their finances are virile.

I got to thinking about the media's definition of male attractiveness, and how too many women buy into it, when a friend invited me to the opening of Wolverine: Origins. She wasn't a fan of the comic books. Her entire motivation was to see actor Hugh Jackman with no clothes. "Isn't that reason enough?" she said.



I didn't tell her that yes, I think Hugh Jackman has a kick-ass voice (he's the only reason I've ever seen the musical Oklahoma!), and yes, he can actually act, unlike the majority of male movie eye-candy (if Daniel Craig ever developes a second facial expression, please, let me know), and yes, I'm a sucker for an Australian accent.

I also didn't tell her that, though People declared him to be "The Sexiest Man Alive," he's not my cuppa. (I'm waiting for People's "Sexiest Man Dead!" issue. I think George Washington and Ulysses S. Grant could be contenders.)

I did tell her that I was going to skip the movie for something that might actually be entertaining. Like Monsters v. Aliens. My friend was indignant. HOW could I NOT have the hots for Hugh Jackman?!

Oh, don't get me wrong. In the previous X-Men movies, I was very happy ignoring what passed, or didn't, for plot, and spent the two hours astounded and appreciative at how Jackman filled the screen.

But when the ads and stills came out for Wolverine: Origins, I saw ... the veins.

The veins in the arms.

You see the veins in professional wrestlers and professional body builders. They look like giant tapeworms crawling just under a man's skin.

They look like pneumatic piping.















I used to work out at a Gold's Gym, where I saw veins like that on the men who grunted like rhinoceroses while bench-pressing SUVs. I have no idea why some men develop engorged veins and some don't. But to me, they scream "Steroids!" And steroids means shrunken genitals, enormous zits, and mood swings that make menopausal women seem Zen.

That's another reason I didn't give to my friend about why I didn't want to see Wolverine. For as much as Hugh Jackman tries to give the character humanity and tenderness, and for as much as the script attempts to explain why Wolverine is the way he is, it all comes down to Wolverine being a psycho loner with rage issues.

It smacks of, "Oh, he's really a nice guy! He just occasionally eviscerates and beheads a few hundred people."

I don't find psycho loners with rage issues attractive.

It'd be nice if, like Hugh Jackman, Wolverine had a sense of humor, and was secure enough in his masculinity to mock his masculinity.

(Hugh Jackman in gold lame pants from The Boy From Oz, in which he played a gay man and kissed another man. How many straight men are that secure in themselves?)

And that's the problem with the majority of male images in the media. There's a homophobic need to pound the audience over the head with the male characters' HETEROSEXUAL MASCULINTY. This is achieved by having the male character blow up cars and buildings, thrash other men into bloody pulps, screw every female between ages 15 and 30, and blast entire populations into Hamburger Helper with gargantuan phallic guns that would give Godzilla Penis Envy.

There seems to be a belief that gay men would never do any such things. This belief is held by people who've never been to a leather bar. I mean a leather bar.

While I love a rugged, hairy man, rugged, hairy men with intellects seem few and far between. Men seem to feel they can only be one or the other: Rugged or smart. Smart boys get the crap beaten out of them by other boys --how boys treat boys growing up makes me wonder how the hell any of them survive to adulthood--- and rugged guys often get the girls. So the American media champions the rugged psycho loner who doesn't have time, or need, for books or philosophical discussion beyond, "Ya wanna die slow, or ya wanna die fast?"


The other side of the coin are the Men of Reason. While they may not look as good in the shower, intellectual men with humor and kindness beat out rock-abbed lunatics in my book. Very often, they've taken the time to learn what women enjoy and how to give it to them. They listen. A woman will come back time and time again to a man who makes her feel good, inside and out, no matter what he looks like. (If a man is gorgeous but a lousy lover, what's the point?)

Give me a choice between hanging out with Wolverine and the X-Men, and hanging out with the guys in the photo below, I'll pick Possum Lodge every time. (http://www.redgreen.com/ )

They're polite (OK, they're Canadian). They blow things up, but never in a way that damages property that wasn't already condemned (and I do enjoy a bit of explosives). They're creative (turning a refrigerator into a hot tub, economical and clever). They don't understand women --shoot, I don't understand women-- but they try to be sensitive (burying your wife's favorite area rug in the back yard because you accidently set it ablaze while trying to turn a lawn mower into a Go-Cart and you know its destruction will hurt your wife's feelings is an act of love, albeit a misguided one).

They don't do drugs, just beer (Canadian beer, which means they have taste). They're faithful, and have a keen interest in sex (though, with Harold and Ranger Gord, some instruction may be necessary, but you get the impression they'd be eager students, and with Bill it might be taking your life into your hands, but one hell of a hoot). Most important they make me laugh.

And they're cute. Damn, but they're cute. Hugh Jackman may have muscles, but Red is cuddly. His pillow talk would be more interesting. (I had the great good fortune of meeting Steve Smith when I created some Red Green art for WKAR's Red Green Show marathon's live TV auction in 1995. Steve Smith was ten times more talented, intelligent and sexy than the film-star men I knew at the time.)

I like guys who look "normal," if they have a brain in their heads, a bit of talent and some ambition.

But explaining any of this to the woman at the airport the next time she all but literally drools for a pilot or baggage handler would be like explaining Aristotle to a pig. I'll continue to ignore her, and keep my idea of who's "hot" to myself.

Now, if only I could convince the President to grow out his hair...














**~~*~~**
The Red Green Show
http://www.redgreen.com/

"The Lover's Resolution" George Wither
http://www.daypoems.net/poems/237.html

Tim Pawlenty, Dog in the Manger (or) Madness in Minnesota

On Monday, May 18, I'm told, a man, who had appeared calm and rational at first, suddenly trashed a lower level convenience shop at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. He ran upstairs and through checkpoint security, and into the Northstar Crossing area of shops in the Lindberg Terminal. Outside the shop where I work (I hadn't come in yet that day), the man was surrounded by approximately six police officers. He, I'm told, dropped to his knees and put his hands behind his back. The officers demanded that he lie on his stomach. When he didn't, he was tasered. Repeatedly. This didn't stop him. He ran back through Checkpoint 3, and was eventually stopped by eleven officers. Eleven.

After being told all this by those who had witnessed it, I remarked, "Probably some state Rep. who finally cracked under all this budget business."

Most of you are probably unfamiliar with the nasty showdown between Governor Tim Pawlenty (R) and Minnesota's House and Senate. As background, the following is Rep. Leon Lillie's (DFL, District 55A) Legislative Update of Sunday, May 17, which I believe is an exellent summation of what was going on. (I post this without having asked the Representative's permission, and I'll remove it if he requests it. I support Rep. Lillie's work as a State Representative, but he may or may not agree with or like any of the contents of this blog) :

Dear Friends,

I’m sending this update from the House floor, as we close in on the final hours of the 2009 Legislative Session.

Thursday, Governor Pawlenty announced that he intends to unilaterally cut $ 3 billion from the state budget. Rather than continuing to engage in constructive negotiations with the Legislature to responsibly deal with the state’s unprecedented $6.4 billion budget shortfall, the Governor will use broad executive authority to line-item veto and unallot funding from the state budget.

A few hours later, the Governor started making deep cuts to health care, cutting $381 million with a line item veto of the General Assistance Medical Care (GAMC) program. This is money used to treat veterans, senior citizens, the mentally ill and the poorest people in the state. It will devastate over 30,000 Minnesotans and the hospitals that care for them.

Earlier today, the House attempted to override this line-item veto to protect the poorest of the poor, the sickest of the sick and the hospitals that are first responders in times of crisis; however that attempt was unsuccessful when not a single Republican member cast a green vote.

Currently, we are debating an override of Governor Pawlenty’s veto of House File 885, a bill that would protect Minnesota schools, hospitals, nursing homes and jobs with responsible and modest on-going revenue. Without sustained new revenue, more than 20,000 jobs may be lost; schools will face certain budget reductions at the local level; several hospital and community clinics may close and more than 1/3 of all of the nursing homes statewide are at risk of closure.

These budget cuts are much more than words on a page – they will significantly impact the lives of Minnesotans in nearly every walk of life. The Legislature has already made significant compromise with the Governor, cutting the budget more than he does and introducing reasonable revenue that would impact fewer than 2 percent of Minnesotans. The Legislature’s proposal would impact the state’s highest income earners – couples with $300,000 adjusted gross income - at a rate of only $109 per year, or less than $9 per month, or less than 30 cents per day - for just the next four years. That seems a small price to pay to keep our schools, hospitals and nursing homes intact.

This is the most serious budget crisis in Minnesota’s history, and the next hours will shape our future for a generation. I’ll continue working to find a responsible compromise that protects schools, hospitals, nursing homes and jobs in the way that Minnesotans deserve.

(for more details:
http://www.startribune.com/politics/state/45224857.html?elr=KArks8c7PaP3E77K_3c::D3aDhUoaEaD_ec7PaP3iUiacyKUnciaec8O7EyUr
http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2009/05/15/scheck_capitol_pawlenty/)

I watched some of the House and Senate proceedings on Twin Cities Public Television. Yes, not only do I watch PBS, but I watch live government coverage on PBS. I am, indeed, a freak. And not only do I watch live goverment coverage, but I take notes. Among the things I observed:

*Finance Commissioner Tom Hanson and House Speaker Margaret Anderson Kelliher (DFL) --who looked like she hadn't slept in one or two years -- exchanging very tired, edgy pleasantries about the Governor wanting other budget ideas from the House, and the House having already sent him several. This included the Speaker mentioning something about the Governor's having sent a "snarky" letter saying something about having to get to some party or event or other.

*Rep. Mark Buesgens (R, District 35B) scolding his fellow members on the House floor, with a voice that made me imagine a nasal Sunday School teacher on a bad day.

*Rep. David Bly (DFL, District 25B) regaling with a anecdote about his Norwegian ancestors, which was entertaining, if not necessarily pertinent.

*Rep. Kent Eken (DFL District 02A) matching with an anecdote --or maybe it was a joke-- about an airplane whose engines have all gone dead.

*Rep. Mark Buesgens needing to hear the sound of his own voice again, even if no one else did.

*Rep. Tom Emmer (R, District 19B) being more bombastic and sweaty than Rep. Buesgens, but no less sanctimonious.

*Rep. Tim Faust (DFL, District 08B) pointing out that the Clinton administration had raised taxes on the wealthy, and had a good economy for 8 years, and the Bush administration had 5 tax cuts and 8 years of the worst economic decline.

*Rep. Tina Liebling (DFL, District 30A) quoting Isaac Asimov about something.

*Rep. Buesgens making sure those who didn't yet know his voice was irritating had the opportunity to experience it.

*Rep. Emmer working himself into a red-faced lather declaring that those who wanted to raise taxes were "sticking it to the working class of the state of Minnesota," and sprinkling an impressive amount of saliva over whoever was seated next to him.


This was early days. As the deadline closed in, there was (I'm told) banging, swearing, bellowing, and crying.

In the end, the result was what I, as a working poor person, expected all along. There would be no increased taxes on alcohol, credit card companies, and couples earning over $250,000 a year. Instead, Tim Pawlenty plans to cut millions of dollars from local government aide, health and human services, and higher education, as well as cutting renters' credit, rebates renters receive every August, and upon which many of the working poor depend to get through the rest of the year. These are programs which help those who earn at or below the minimum wage, and those which could educate us so we can get jobs which pay a living wage, with benefits.

Using his line-item veto authority, Tim Pawlenty eliminated full funding for "General Assistance Medical Care," a health care program that serves childless adults at or near the poverty level.

That serves me. That serves several friends of mine.

I work full time. I pay taxes. I can afford more taxes. What I can't afford is illness or injury, or the luxury of having anything but a charmed life.

I did a commentary for Marketplace about having insufficent dental insurance.
http://marketplace.publicradio.org/display/web/2006/10/10/pain_in_the_mouth/

On Nov. 5, 2006, I appeared live on Good Morning America in Washington D.C. to ask political representatives why America doesn't have affordable health care.

I am personally effected by this issue.

Of course I'm not shocked that V.P.-wanna-be Pawlenty was more than willing to behead a program that helps people who barely scrape by from paycheck to paycheck. We don't write big paychecks for him. Yet I have no skepticism that the Governor has more than a passing acquaintance with credit card companies and alcohol lobbies.

Except during election years. Then the Govenor is happy to shake the hand of a working poor person like myself, and to ask me to help him to help me.

He's willing to help me, that is, until I catch pneumonia. Or develop diabetes. Or if I'm hit by a car.


It's always astonished me, though it shouldn't, that so many of those in Tim Pawlenty's political party proudly declare that they have a personal relationship with Jesus, while apparently having no relationship whatsoever with Jesus' teachings.

I'm not an expert on the Bible by any means, but I can't find the verses that say, "Touch ye not the fruit of those whose tree bears heavily, to their richness and thine own, yea even though there be a wealth of harvest to share, but be thee certain that they who have not trees work their asses off reaping for thee and thy friends, but profit not themselves, because they are likely uneducated, unsophisticated, dressed in untasteful raiment, and do work thou wouldst not do unless a loaded shotgun were aimmed at thy head, yea even the making of coffee at Starbucks."



"The sky is not going to fall," Pawlenty is quoted as saying. "We can get through this."

We? We?

When was the last time Pawlenty was in a room like the one in this photograph?

When was the last time he worried that he had insufficient health coverage, or had to choose between going to work with a temperature of 101, nausea and dizziness --while still being expected to perform 100%--- or seeing a doctor and staying home in bed till he was well?

Pawlenty, like the fable of the dog in the manger, has no use for services that help the poor survive, so he denies those services to them. And worse, he claims to do it for their sake.

There's nothing I, one of the "working class of Minnesota" who Rep. Tom Emmer so fervently and moistly claims to defend, can do to fight Pawlenty on his turf, politics, which is apparently the only turf he's interested in. I didn't vote for him the last tim he ran, and I won't vote for him should he run again (which many believe he won't do, believing his eyes are fixed on a more ambitious prize).

What I can do is refuse Gov. Tim Pawlenty my services, if ever our paths crossed and he needed them. If he were in the airport, I would refuse to serve him. And I would refuse to service any of the Representatives and Senators who voted against overriding his veto.

I challenge all of you who earn near or below the minimum wage, or even more, to refuse to serve Gov. Tim Pawlenty. If he doesn't care about our health and welfare, let him make his own damn coffee, cook his own meals, clean his own hotel room. If you risk being fired because you won't serve Pawlenty, go to the press saying as much. The media doesn't care much for the working poor, but they might give some attention to a worker who is threatened with loss of income because she or he denied services to the Governor who has denied services to workers.

And, of course, for Minnesotans, call, email, and write your state representative and senator (oh yes; Pawlenty won't sign the certificate making Al Franken --DFL-- a Senator). Three members of our Congress voted against overriding Pawlenty's veto. I don't yet know who they are, but I'm trying to find out. When I do, I'll post their names. We all need to let them know we are here, and we will vote.

For now, I need to tread carefully. I'm not insured, and, come 2011, the cost of an accident or illness might be the death of me.

Norm Coleman, Deer Tick on the Body Politic

So, Norm --may I call you Norm?-- how do you want to be remembered?

Do you want to be remembered as the man who, on Election night, urged Al Franken to let go and move on, but who, when asked to take a dose of his own medicine, staunchly refused?

There's tenacity, Norm, and then there's pigheadedness. We Minnesotans are tired. We watched the recount. It didn't go in your favor, did it? We endured the wait for the judges' decision. That didn't give you what you wanted, either. We've gone from Thanksgiving to almost May Day, and you know how long that is in Minnesota. It's one long, hard, very very cold six months. And now, the flowers are tenatively venturing forth. Heart of the Beast Puppet Theatre will soon cross from the island in Powderhorn Park; protestors sprout on the Capitol lawn in St. Paul. It's Spring, Norm. Minnesotans yearn for rebirth and renewel.

I know how hard it is to be laid off. They hand you a box stuffed with your things, and you stand there and babble, "But...but..." What will you do? Where will you go? Why does everyone avoid you in the corridors? Why do the receptionists and interns have pinched looks and duck into the nearest door as if you've got something contagious?

Think about your ex-coworkers. They've got business to get on with. Bills to bury in Committees, stories to snicker about in the back rooms, Blackberries to click, backs to pat, hands to shake, lunches and dinners and junkets to attend. You're no good for them, Norm. You've spent your career shifting whichever way the political wind blew, and you won't accept that the 2008 election capsized you. You've been dog-paddling for six months, Norm, and nobody's throwing you a Lifesaver. Can't you take a hint? It's embarrassing.

I was upset when Al Gore conceded to Dubyah in 2000. "Don't do it, Al! Keep fighting!" But the way Gore did it, when he finally did it, was done with such class, such elegance. He even laughed at himself. Look at this, Norm:

Good evening.

Just moments ago, I spoke with George W. Bush and congratulated him on becoming the 43rd President of the United States, and I promised him that I wouldn't call him back this time.

I offered to meet with him as soon as possible so that we can start to heal the divisions of the campaign and the contest through which we just passed.

Almost a century and a half ago, Senator Stephen Douglas told Abraham Lincoln, who had just defeated him for the presidency, "Partisan feeling must yield to patriotism. I'm with you, Mr. President, and God bless you."

Well, in that same spirit, I say to President-elect Bush that what remains of partisan rancor must now be put aside, and may God bless his stewardship of this country.

Neither he nor I anticipated this long and difficult road. Certainly neither of us wanted it to happen. Yet it came, and now it has ended, resolved, as it must be resolved, through the honored institutions of our democracy.

Over the library of one of our great law schools is inscribed the motto, "Not under man but under God and law." That's the ruling principle of American freedom, the source of our democratic liberties. I've tried to make it my guide throughout this contest as it has guided America's deliberations of all the complex issues of the past five weeks.

Now the U.S. Supreme Court has spoken. Let there be no doubt, while I strongly disagree with the court's decision, I accept it. I accept the finality of this outcome which will be ratified next Monday in the Electoral College. And tonight, for the sake of our unity of the people and the strength of our democracy, I offer my concession.

I also accept my responsibility, which I will discharge unconditionally, to honor the new president elect and do everything possible to help him bring Americans together in fulfillment of the great vision that our Declaration of Independence defines and that our Constitution affirms and defends.

Let me say how grateful I am to all those who supported me and supported the cause for which we have fought. Tipper and I feel a deep gratitude to Joe and Hadassah Lieberman who brought passion and high purpose to our partnership and opened new doors, not just for our campaign but for our country.

This has been an extraordinary election. But in one of God's unforeseen paths, this belatedly broken impasse can point us all to a new common ground, for its very closeness can serve to remind us that we are one people with a shared history and a shared destiny.

Indeed, that history gives us many examples of contests as hotly debated, as fiercely fought, with their own challenges to the popular will.

Other disputes have dragged on for weeks before reaching resolution. And each time, both the victor and the vanquished have accepted the result peacefully and in the spirit of reconciliation.

So let it be with us.

I know that many of my supporters are disappointed. I am too. But our disappointment must be overcome by our love of country. And I say to our fellow members of the world community, let no one see this contest as a sign of American weakness. The strength of American democracy is shown most clearly through the difficulties it can overcome.

Some have expressed concern that the unusual nature of this election might hamper the next president in the conduct of his office. I do not believe it need be so.

President-elect Bush inherits a nation whose citizens will be ready to assist him in the conduct of his large responsibilities. I personally will be at his disposal, and I call on all Americans -- I particularly urge all who stood with us to unite behind our next president. This is America. Just as we fight hard when the stakes are high, we close ranks and come together when the contest is done.

And while there will be time enough to debate our continuing differences, now is the time to recognize that that which unites us is greater than that which divides us.

While we yet hold and do not yield our opposing beliefs, there is a higher duty than the one we owe to political party. This is America and we put country before party. We will stand together behind our new president.

As for what I'll do next, I don't know the answer to that one yet. Like many of you, I'm looking forward to spending the holidays with family and old friends. I know I'll spend time in Tennessee and mend some fences, literally and figuratively.

Some have asked whether I have any regrets and I do have one regret: that I didn't get the chance to stay and fight for the American people over the next four years, especially for those who need burdens lifted and barriers removed, especially for those who feel their voices have not been heard. I heard you and I will not forget.

I've seen America in this campaign and I like what I see. It's worth fighting for and that's a fight I'll never stop.

As for the battle that ends tonight, I do believe as my father once said, that no matter how hard the loss, defeat might serve as well as victory to shape the soul and let the glory out.

So for me this campaign ends as it began: with the love of Tipper and our family; with faith in God and in the country I have been so proud to serve, from Vietnam to the vice presidency; and with gratitude to our truly tireless campaign staff and volunteers, including all those who worked so hard in Florida for the last 36 days.

Now the political struggle is over and we turn again to the unending struggle for the common good of all Americans and for those multitudes around the world who look to us for leadership in the cause of freedom.

In the words of our great hymn, "America, America": "Let us crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea."

And now, my friends, in a phrase I once addressed to others, it's time for me to go.

Thank you and good night, and God bless America.

Al Gore - December 13, 2000
http://www.historyplace.com/speeches/gore-concedes.htm

"...defeat might serve as well as victory to shape the soul and let the glory out." Norm, this is poetry. This is class and honor. And Al didn't do so bad after being downsized. Bush will be remembered for "Gitmo," and Gore will be remembered for the Nobel Prize. Who served the American people, and the world, better?

Look: If Al Franken will be as bad a Senator as you and and your supporters say he'll be, then give him enough rope to hang himself with. Craft as classy a concession as you and/or your handlers are able, then step aside and watch. If Franken implodes as you predict he will, then come the next election you can ride in on your white horse to save us. That is, if you haven't already alienated everyone in and out of politics who felt even the slightest twinge of support towards you.

Oh, I'm certain you have donors, bag-holders and allies who'll be extremely annoyed if you bow out now. But they don't control the voters, Norm. 60% of those voters say you're irritating them. Even if Hades freezes over and you end up back in the Senate in, say, September, that irritation won't heal any time soon. And that irritation is grist for your opponents' mills.

You might find the sidelines have more power than the spotlight. Give it a try.

And if Franken does a fine job, as I'm sure he will, maybe you'll be too busy doing something else to notice.

Give Up, Norm

(sung to the tune of "Sit Down, John"

from the musical 1776)

MINNESOTA:
Give up, Norm! Move on, Norm!
For God’s sake, Norm, concede!
You lost, Norm! The cost, Norm!
For God’s sake, Norm, shove off!

Someone oughta throw him out the window!

The election is through, and we’re so sick of you
You did your best, give it a rest, Norm, please!

Someone willya throw him out a window?

NORM:
I won! I won! Count them all, you’ll see I won!
I’m not done--

MINNESOTA:
No!

NORM:
--till I’ve won.

MINNESOTA:
Blow!

NORM:
Put me in the Senate now!

MINNESOTA:
Will someone please hurl him out the window?
Yes, yes, yes! Show him the door! Please, god, no more!
Pack up it all and leave St. Paul in peace!
(Then we’ll barricade the windows!)

Franken’s got the lead here!

NORM:
I won!

MINNESOTA:
Why won’t you concede here?

NORM:
I won!

MINNESOTA:
Oh for God’s sake, Norm, get lost!

NORM:
While I understand the frustration that Minnesotans have, it's important to get this right, so that we can all have faith in the accuracy of the final outcome, not the previous final outcome, or the final outcome previous to that---

MINNESOTA:
Norm, you’re a bore. We’ve heard this before.
Now for God’s sake, Norm, piss off!

http://www.allmusicals.com/lyrics/1776/sitdownjohn.htm

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9HD1x_kZRQQ

(I'm not comparing Coleman with John Adams, at all)

A Writer's Self-Indulgence

Be so good they can't ignore you. Steve Martin

Writing well is the best revenge. Kate Epstein, The Epstein Literary Agency

Kate, my agent, wrote the above to me in response to my saying that my current Place of Employment is excellent material for the book I'm writing, which she's representing. This is both good and bad. It's good that I'm getting a wealth of material. It's bad because what I'm experiencing which provides the material is not pleasant.

Today I tripped over the power chord of a laptop an airport traveler had strung across the concourse, from an outlet near the store that provides me with material, to the table where he'd set up a sizeable one-man conference. He glared at me for inconveinencing him by snagging my ankle.

As those who were disturbed by the smell and roar of the first automobiles tearing across the landscape had yelled at the drivers, "Get a horse!," I wanted to snap at the man, "Get a Moleskin!"

Moleskin notebooks are the most perfect things ever created for the written word. They're sturdy, practical, and portable. You don't need power chords, batteries, outlets, or Wi-Fi. You only need something with which to write. I've written in the rain in my Moleskin (with my coat as an umbrella). I've written in the dark in my Moleskin (using my fingertips as spacers, so I wouldn't scrawl over what I'd previously scrawled). I can use it anywhere there's a space big enough for me to open it.

While it's fun and amazingly easy to compose at a computer, I find the screen glaring after a while. And it's very...serviceable. It doesn't feel like writing to me. For me, there's nothing better than black ink forming thoughts on paper. It's drawing, illustrating, with strokes of a pen.

I miss my Underwood. There was an instrument of writing. Those thundering blocks of metal weren't designed for quick, flighty thoughts chirped speedily out with pattering clicks and clacks. When you sat down at an Underwood, you sat down to write. You couldn't tote an Underwood around; they stayed put. You placed them in a spot for writing, and writing alone, because of the effort necessary to move the things. If you just bought an Underwood, and thunked it down on the dining room table as soon as you got home, before your back snapped, well, the dining room table became your Writing Spot. Unless you had a really strong friend, relative or neighbor you could bribe or trick into hauling it to the place you'd originally intended it to be.

The Underwood made you work. It took pile-drive force to slam a key down hard enough for a black letter to be hammered onto the paper. You developed forearms of steel and tendons of titanium beating out a page full of words. If you weren't a writer, if you were only toying with the idea of writing as something to bring you fame, fortune and sex with admiring readers and ambitious editors, the Underwood chewed up your fantasy and spit it in your face. You'd get up, rubbing your arms and declaring it wasn't worth it. You had to burn to write, for writing's sake alone, to carve a story with an Underwood.

But my Underwood is long gone. Someday I hope to replace it. Till then, my Moleskin notebooks are a smooth, sensuous black on the outside, with inviting, creamy fields on the inside. I can almost fool myself into believing everything I scribble in them has significance.

If nothing else, the scribbles will add up to a book in the near future.

.