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?
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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.







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).





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:

