Name Calling

As my summer draws to a close, I have found myself running on political fumes. No, I’m not tired, it’s just that there really isn’t that much information out there for someone who spends most of his day repeating the same 30-second trope to Nevadan answering machines to absorb. I’ve started looking beyond my once sufficient daily dose of Andrew Sullivan, Ben Smith, Al Giordano and Nate Silver. I read more Daily Kos now, even venturing down into the non- recommended diaries (which usually aren’t recommended for good reason). I even browse redstate.com when I want some humor in my day.

My favorite redstate joke? That Sarah Palin has more of a bipartisan record than Barack Obama because she’s married to a non-Republican. Yes, she’s married to a non-Republican; he just happens to also be a non-Democrat. He’s a member of the secessionist Alaskan Independence Party (or at least was until 2002).

Funny, huh?

But anyway, my foray into less scrupulous blogs, or the comment sections of blogs I like, has led me to a realization: I really hate it when people call other people names. Every day, I log on and read a string of insults directed at candidates through not-so-clever variations of their names. Whether people are using Obambi, McInsane, or Sarah Failin’ (yes, Marino, I don’t like it when you do it either) it cheapens the debate. It’s juvenile, but more importantly it dilutes your arguments. I, as a matter of principle, don’t read anything that refers to Barack Obama as Barack Osama. Nor do I enjoy reading anything that refers to McCain as McBush.

What these terms do is reduce the debate into narratives – the broad, sweeping narratives that define elections and, in the case of many elections, decide them. Rick Davis, a McCain campaign advisor, put this into words best in the little repeated corollary to his much-criticized statement that issues would not decide the election. His insight, that this election was about a “composite view” of what people would take away from the candidates, is true, albeit sad. And name-calling serves not only to reinforce these composites but to simplify them even further. While it may or may not win elections (see: Kerry, windsurfing), it takes our debate one step further away from where it should be.

Finally though, I do have a confession. I really like calling McCain McSame. Even if I hate myself for it.

peace

A Grassroots Weekend

This past week,  I've found it very hard to muster up the willpower to write.  It's either the general listlessness caused by being one of only a half dozen or so people who haven't left town for college yet, the soul-crushing-ness  of the RNC (which was unpleasant to watch as well as being generally puzzling-- if you'd have asked me, I was pretty sure it was the Republicans who were in power these past eight years).  But either way, I finally mustered up the courage to log into blogger after a most exciting weekend of grassroots action.

I'd done some phonebanking at home the week I got back from Denver.  However, since my computer wouldn't click the button for "call swing state voters" on the Obama site, even when I tried multiple times, I called voters in California.  I called Obama supporters and asked them to volunteer.  I made about fifty calls, talked to about five people, got three of them to volunteer, and then got bored.  I wanted to call real swing voters in real swing states and make them vote for Obama.  But my computer still wouldn't let me do that, so I wasted some time at DailyKos.

It was there, in that wonderful world of orange writing and liberal rants, that I saw a diary about the opening of the new Obama HQ in LA.  It had been the night before, and over 2,000 people had shown up.  After my initial disappointment that I had missed probably the best party of the time before I leave for school, I googled the office and found out they were near my friend Sam's house.  So I picked him up on my way, despite the fact that he was rater dubious about the entire volunteering-for-a-political-campaign dynamic.  He just really doesn't like John McCain.  

We arrived at the office and were reprimanded for trying to enter without signing up to volunteer.  We were under the impression it was the kind of place you just sort of wandered in and out of, but quickly were informed that the work area (and the refreshment table) was off limits to everyone not making phone calls.  So we made phone calls.  

The office was packed.  People of all ages and races and genders (yes, both!) were there making phone calls to Nevada on their cell phones.  Sam and I made about 75 calls, and he was much more successful than I was.  I talked mainly to answering machines, he talked to voters.

About 45 minutes into our session, a hush fell over the office.  In swept the director with and old woman and familiar looking man.  

"I," the man announced to the silent room, "am Max Kennedy, the son of Bobby Kennedy, and this is my mother Ethel."  Clapping.  He then proceeded to give us a rousing speech about how in this election, we were "fighting against the greatest entrenched interests in the history of the world- the healthcare industry, the oil companies," the military industrial complex and more.  Huge applause.

After we'd settled back down to our calling sheets, Sam turned to me and remarked that "it's odd-- this is the first Democratic event I've ever been to, and some Kennedys show up."

The next morning, after several debacles that included (and actually were mainly comprised of) me losing my car keys, I biked over to an office building in the warehouse section of Santa Monica (yes, we have one of those) to phonebank.  I'd checked on the Obama site, and there were two people who had RSVP'd.  Small phonebank.

However, when I arrived, there were about a dozen people milling around, picking up pieces of paper and learning how to make calls.  We were calling Nevada.  It was great.  As someone who had done this before, I was soon put in charge of helping train the new volunteers.  One of my colleagues from the primary campaign was running the training, and when she left and her assistant got promoted, I took his spot helping.  

We trained upwards of twenty new volunteers in the few hours I was there.  We called probably upwards of a thousand voters over the course of the day.  Best of all though was seeing the new volunteers, fired up right after the Republican convention, pouring in to take over the campaign.  The people we trained were young --a 16 year old High School student-- and old -- a woman who could barely walk.  They were diverse, energetic, and thrilled to have the chance to make a difference.  It was beautiful.

peace

A Great Crusade?

Over the past several days, I've had various political conversation that have ranged from the absurd-- see below-- to the thoughtful.  Since the ones, both absurd and rational, that I've had with my fellow liberals have all been about the Hanukkah in September that is Sarah Palin, I won't bore you with those.  They can basically be summarized by the key words Alaskan  Independence Party, Jews for Jesus, Mooseburger, and Troopergate.

The conversations that have been the most intriguing are the ones I have had with various conservatives.  Now, I want to differentiate here between conservatives and Republicans.  One of my closest friends has, as his facebook political identity, "Republican- the real kind."  He's voting for Obama, and I think of him as a conservative, not a Republican.  Party line Republicans, as I found out on Labor Day, aren't the kind of people who I like to talk to; rather than make an intelligent point, they tell you you've been brainwashed by the terrorists.  

However, in two conversations with two friends (well, a friend and an ex-teacher who I consider a friend), we came to the conclusion that the Republican Party of today is not a conservative party, or even a political party per se.  It's not even that true conservatives don't believe in huge budget deficits or torture.  What I, and many others, have come to realize in the wake of the Palin fiasco is that the modern Republican party has ceased to be a party focused on governance and instead has morphed into a front for an evangelical, moralistic, Christianist (to borrow a word) crusade.  And that is a dangerous thing to have.

When you have the head of John McCain's campaign bragging about how this election "is not about  issues," and have a mother's choices for her family touted as credentials to deal with Iran and Russia, we have entered a political world in which all of us-- liberal, conservative, Jewish, Christian, black, white, gay, straight (and all the other categories politicians usually list)-- must realize that this election is the most important of our time.

When we have candidates for high office calling the war in Iraq "God's plan," we must realize that the McCain camp has a point-- the election isn't about the economy, or Iraq, or even healthcare.  It's about whether or not our country stays true to its founders' values, values of freedom and secularism that have allowed us to prosper for over 230 years.

peace

Of Bigots and Palin

Last night, I went to a Labor [corrected] Day BBQ at a friend of a friend's house.  I was invited mainly, I found out, to be a liberal voice in the discussion.  The discussion, I found, was rather unbalanced-- myself, my friend, and his father (who is Israeli) against three staunch Republicans, their families, and one of the most conservative Israeli's I've ever met (and his family).  When I got there that made it ten against three instead of ten against two.  Yay.

The first thing I was asked, after my name, where I was going to college, and why I didn't want more food than I was taking was why Barack Obama spent 20 years in "a racist madman liar's" church.  Boy, was this going to be an interesting evening.  I tried to defend Obama, saying that what Jeremiah Wright said when he got carried away (like the US government created AIDS) is comparable to what Falwell, Robertson et al say on a rather regular basis-- things like, oh, AIDS and 9/11 are punishments from God.  Neither Obama nor McCain should be tarred by what their men of the cloth rant about.  But I was assured that they were completely different.

Why?  I wasn't given an answer, but I have a hunch it has more than a little to do with skin color.

I also started to talk to the Israeli, but I ended that quick.  Some of my favorite things he said run along the lines of "Obama wants to give all blacks a free house."  Evidence: "All black people want to do that."  More fun insights from this guy included the tidbits of information that "all blacks hate Jews," "all Mexicans are stupid," and "liberal Jews are worse than the Palestinians and the Goyim."  The sad thing was that I legitimately tried to argue with him-- he just told me I'd been brainwashed and stalked off in a rage.  

After that was over, I turned back to arguing with the (slightly more) rational non-Israeli conservatives.  I'm going to be honest, they were winning the argument.  Every point I made, they had a counter point.  I said McCain voted for the war, they said the war was a good idea.  They said the surge was working, I said the surge was working to stop violence because of the Anbar awakening, but that it wasn't accomplishing political goals, and they said I didn't support the troops.  And it went on and on and on-- I couldn't win against them, because the facts that I was marshaling were completely ignored.

Here was the amazing thing though: when I brought up Sarah Palin as an answer to the Obama-inexperience question, they admitted that it was a horrible pick and that they were disgusted with McCain.  And here's the kicker:  they said that they thought it was such a bad pick, if Obama hadn't been in Wright's church [translation: if Obama wasn't black] they'd vote for him.

peace

PS-  here are a couple more pictures from Denver.  From the last night at Invesco.  

The Future

Well, the DNC is over.  Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read me and accompany me on this journey.  Now, as we move onto the next phase of the election, and as I get ready to begin a new phase of life (yay college!), it strikes me as a time to reevaluate this blog.  I mean, it's not like I can write much more about the DNC.  All I have left to do is buy a new camera cord to replace the one I left in Denver and then get the pictures from Invesco up.  Which shouldn't take more than...a day?

So I have to decide what to do when that's done.  

I want to keep this blog alive, and write about the things in my life, and in our country, that I think are worth discussing.  I hope anyone who has enjoyed reading this past week will come back and keep up with the blog as it moves on from the DNC into a broader focus.  If anyone has any suggestions or tips, I'd love to hear them.

Thanks again for reading, and I hope to hear from you.

peace

Anecdotes From Invesco (plus Palin!)

It's taken me a day to decide what I should wrote about last night at the Invesco Field.  I have neither the eloquence nor the experience to critique a speech that even Pat Buchanan called the greatest convention speech of all time.  But what I can do, and what I think really is most important, is describe what it was like to be in that stadium.

I arrived at about 2 pm-- the line was already over three miles long.  I had taken the shuttle over to Invesco from downtown Denver, after getting lunch with some new friends I had made.  A nice latino guy named Gerald sat down next to me.  He was the head of standardized testing in San Antonio, a Clinton delegate, and bitterly disappointed by the lack of extra tickets for the Texas delegation.  When we got off the bus, he had us take pictures with the long line.  After about ten minutes in line, we started talking with some Montana delegates in front of us.

"I loved your Governor," he said.

"We do too," they laughed.

"I saw him after the speech.  I told him I wanted to buy some ranch land in Montana, and he said 'you better hurry, because after my speech it just went up in price.'"

We all laughed.

A campaign worker came up and told us that a new line was opening on the other side.  We ran up a flight of stairs and, winded, were told by a friendly Police officer that we had to join another, longer, line.  Gerald got angry and told me to follow him.  I wasn't quite sure how, but somehow he used his delegate powers to have us skip the line, get through security in five minutes, and get great seats.  He, as a delegate, was on the field, but I was in section 108, row, 9, seat 10.  Which was pretty much straight back from the stage, nine rows up.  I was pumped.  

Sitting around me was a picture of the Democratic Party: to my right, a white couple from Reno, NV.  In front of me, a large black family from Mississippi.  To my left, an older black couple who remembered Dr. King's '63 speech.  And behind me, two young, stylishly dressed professionals, who I later found out were an interracial gay couple.  It was like an ad on steroids.

Throughout the day, the excitement built.  John Oliver walked by-- the young professionals went nuts.  Franco Harris walked by-- the guy from Reno started screaming.  Al Sharpton slowly walked past our seats, and the entire section exploded.  

will.i.am performed "Yes We Can."  Stevie Wonder played.  I saw Sheryl Crow for the second time this week and the second time in my life.  John Lewis gave a moving speech, Bill Richardson ripped McCain apart.  Al Gore told us that even though we didn't believe him in 2000, he could assure us that there were differences between the two parties.  

He also reminded us that he knows a little about close elections, and everyone laughed.

The whole evening build toward Barack's acceptance speech, and as the stadium slowly filled the energy grew more intense.  A few people tried to start waves.  One or two succeeded.  But the crowd was well behaved and speakers, whether they were Vice Presidents, ordinary citizens, or the young Colorado campaign chair who implored us to text message "DNC" to 62262 (which you can still do to sign up for the campaign) were listened to.  The speeches were separated by video segments and music.  It was like a giant party.

Finally, Barack came on.  The entire stadium was a madhouse, people waving American flags and holding up signs, screaming and clapping, chanting "YES WE CAN" and "O-BA-MA" (which conveniently have the same number of syllables).  It took several minutes to quiet everyone down, but even when we were quiet no one sat.  Everyone stood for the first lines of the speech, silent and barely breathing.  Flashes flashed like millions of lightning bolts.  Every time an applause line was delivered-- and there were many of them-- the roar of the crowd rose to deafening levels and flags rose like a sea of red, white and blue.  It was everything my High School Government class told me America should be.  

In the middle of his speech, Obama said that "history teaches us that at defining moments like this one, the change we need doesn't come from Washington.  Change comes to Washington.  Change happens because the American people demand it, because they rise up and insist on new ideas and new leadership. a new politics for a new time."

I was in tears.  Usually, I say that I am in tears when I mean that I teared up, but this time tears were streaming down my face and I buried my head in my American flag and thought that this vision of America was a vision of the America in which I wanted to live.  I was so overcome with love for my country, or for this image of my country, that I couldn't stop myself from weeping.

After the speech, the fireworks, and the confetti, I turned to the old African-American man to my left.  "Good speech," I said, simply.

"Yes," he said, and paused.  "I was crying"

"I was too."

He took my hand in his, enveloped it really, and looked at me.  We both smiled.  And then a woman a few rows back started chanting "Yes We Can," and soon isolated pockets of chanters from all around the 84,000 Convention goers linked up until everyone was waving their flags, lifting their signs, and raising their voices as one.  Yes We Can.

peace

PS- Sarah Palin?  I guess if John McCain wants to nominate a creationist, anti-abortion even in cases of rape and incest, Pat Buchanan supporting, wind power vetoing Governor who is under ethics investigation, owes her political career to the indicted Ted Stevens and the under investigation Don Young, has been governor for less time than this campaign has gone on, who has never (ever!) said a substantive thing about Iraq (other than, and I quote, "let's make sure we have a plan"), and who in all honesty was picked merely because the McCain camp thinks it can peel off disaffected Hillary supporters who somehow are dumb enough to not realize that this woman is to Hillary Clinton what, say, T.J. Bohn is to Babe Ruth, more power to him.  But I think it really calls into question whether he has the judgement to be president.

Oh, Bill. You Make It Hard To Hate You.

So, first off, why didn't John Kerry give speeches like that four years ago?  He'd be running for reelection right now if he had...

Second, I had the most amazing hamburger of my life today.  At the Capital Grille, they took sirloin steak, bacon, and sweet grilled onions and ground them all up into the most delicious patty I've ever eaten.  Mmmm.

Third, Bill Clinton is an animal.  I'm watching a replay of his speech right now on MSNBC, and you can't really tell how much energy there was in that room.  I mean, sure, it takes him a good five minutes to get everyone seated, and yeah, they're all chanting "Bill" so loud you can't hear him say "thank you."  But the energy in the room when he came out was unreal.  It was unlike anything I have ever seen before in my life.  And when he said that he came to support Barack, the place exploded.

But he was great.  I can't describe how great he was, you just have to watch it.  He hit every point he needed to make, and even though people were screaming so loud I couldn't hear most of the speech I'm confident he didn't say anything bad.  He was really good.

Now back into my narrative.  We went downtown for lunch, I ate my dank burger, and we went to pick up our credentials.  On the way to the Convention, we went to a reception at the Cru Wine Bar hosted by J-Street, the pro-Israel pro-peace PAC I wrote about the other day.  It was interesting, and I met some cool people, including Dennis Schulman, a blind progressive rabbi running for the House in New Jersey.  He was fascinating, and I learned that I'll be attending school with his daughter next year.

However, we were 18, couldn't partake in the wine, and lacked the business cards that people were handing out like corndogs at a Funk Music Appreciation club fundraiser.  That, by the way, is more of a SAMOHI joke than anything else, so don't worry if it's not funny.  It's mainly for a few low-key Funkers.  We didn't have any of the social currency that you need to fit in at a lobbyist party, so after a few nice interactions we left to go to the Convention.  On the way, we ran into a protest, tried to talk some sense into the "pro-life" demonstrators, and eventually just gave up and went inside.  

Inside, we managed to get some pretty bad seats, which in itself was a miracle because if we showed up 30 minutes later we should have had horrible seats.  How horrible?  Behind the stage.  Which is different from backstage, by a lot.  So we settled in to our seats and waited for Bill.  He was so good, by the way, that I neglected to check the Phillies' score until after they had blown a 3-1 lead and lost to the hated Mets.

Then came Joe.  He was good, and I felt he got better as the night went on, but at the beginning of his speech he was clearly nervous and the audience noticed.  The woman next to me kept tsk tsk-ing until I wanted to ask her to stop.  But before I mustered up that courage, Biden started to catch fire and build up steam.  From then on she was quiet and the rest of the crowd was really loud.  I, for one, was waving my little American flag so hard I almost (accidentally) smacked her.  But by then I was so filled with Democratic pride that I would have felt really guilty.

Then there was the big surprise:  Obama came out and gave a little pep talk, which I have on video from a horrible angle.  But it really shows you how the crowd loved it, something that I've been told wasn't apparent on TV.  I'll post it later, right now I want to go to bed.

Which reminds me, tomorrow I might now be able to post-- my computer is leaving with its owner on the morning plane to Smith College.  So if I can post, it will be without little links and without pictures.  Which is unfortunate.  Luckily, since I'm too tired to add any of those now, this post can serve as practice for the stripped down version of the blog.

peace

PS- There's more I want to say about tonight but I'm too tired to.  

PPS- I ate dinner at Applebee's tonight.  I'd never eaten there before, and it was pretty good.  We got there too late for the real menu though, so I just had to chill on some buffalo wings and spinach dip.  The leftovers are actually in the hotel fridge right now, so I'll let you know next time I blog how leftover Applebee's chicken tastes cold.