By Fled the Asylum

Last week, I stopped by the Harris County Democratic Party outreach office in Midtown Houston to pick up an Obama yard sign. It cost me five bucks. The volunteer who sold it to me said, “Keep an eye on it. They’re disappearing all over town.”

I picked my kids up from daycare that day, and we put it up in the front yard together. “What’s that sign for?” Fleduardo, the three-year-old (four in January) asked.

“It’s our Barack Obama sign, buddy.”

“He’s gonna be our next president?”

“Rocko Bama? Our next president?” Flederick, my two-year-old (three in February…really) asked.

“I hope so, guys.”

I wasn’t going to do the yard sign. I don’t think any amount of design work can address their inherent unattractiveness. However, when I saw the pink McCain-Palin signs springing up around the neighborhood, I couldn’t leave them unanswered. Even Mrs. Asylum — the firewall of my bad taste — was on-board.

I had the sign up for about a day, when our next door neighbor came over. “I saw your sign. I just told my husband, I knew I liked the Asylums for a reason.”

THIS is why we bought the sign. Come on out Democrats. You’re safe. Even in West Houston.

As I drove to work, each morning, I actually considered putting the sign in the house. I figured that after the election, it could join the other tasteful design elements on the walls of my garage — a poster of Churchill holding a tommy gun, looking like a gangster, an inexplicable cardboard box that says “protective underwear.” I looked around at my neighborhood and my quiet street, thought about the folks who have McCain signs up — the guy who owns his own business, the retired couple. We’re neighbors. I know them; they know me. Here, my sign is safe.

We spent this last weekend visiting friends and family in Central Texas and came home Sunday to find our sign missing. I should have known. It might have been my neighbors. It might have been someone driving through. The McCain signs are all still there, though, so I’ve ruled out terrorists who are angered by our freedom as the perpetrators of this particular crime.

I guess I saw it coming, because I wasn’t really surprised. I am disappointed, though, and for the first time I actually understand the argument that how citizens choose to use their money in support of a candidate is speech. I don’t think this should be the foundation of our campaign finance laws, but I absolutely felt, and feel, a sense of political intimidation.

Looking at those McCain-Palin signs unmolested makes my stomach turn. I want to make a sweep of the neighborhood, and get rid of them all. Or put them all up in my yard as an ironic fu*ck you to the jerk who stole from me. I don’t think he’d appreciate it, though, and I know Mrs. Asylum wouldn’t. I asked her.

I also asked her about painting a new sign, “Some McCain Thug Stole My Obama Sign.”

“I’m angry too,” she said, “but I don’t want the house vandalized, or to provoke anything that would scare the boys. You know they would. And it would be super tacky.”

She’s right. On all counts. They would, and it would. That’s the world we live in, and we paid the smallest of prices for a political campaign that has gotten out of hand.

It’s not just about a belief that some of us harbor thoughts that are anti-American. To hear Focus on the Family tell it, it’s about a threat to our domestic peace and our whole way of life.

A recent “Letter from the Future” by that group points to a four year period, even worse than the last eight. Russia has occupied Eastern Europe, Iran waged a nuclear attack on Israel, religious radio has been banned, four American cities have been hit by terrorist attacks, genocide in Iraq, and the Boy Scouts closed up shop, rather than be forced to bed homosexual leaders in the same tents as young boys.

If any of this were believable, it would be terrifying. For that matter, anyone who really loves this country (or Israel) would be obligated to make sure that it wouldn’t happen… if this were believable.

What might be legitimately scary though is that there are people who believe this, and there are people who will do anything they can to keep it from happening.

On Monday, the US District Court in Jackson Tennessee unsealed documents, revealing a plot, by two would-be assassins to kill Senator Obama, along with dozens of others. A homegrown terrorist operation, on a scale unseen since the Oklahoma City bombing. Fortunately, the conspirators were, among other things, idiots and captured, but this will not be the last we hear of something like this.

When actual presidential campaigns, and gigantic organizations like Focus on the Family play zero-sum games with political fear and intimidation, there are real world consequences, beyond the outcomes of elections.

I still believe that a President McCain would not be as bad as a candidate McCain. I think that we would see a president who understands the separation of powers, and who can actually work with the House and Senate — even if he has said very nasty things about them. I think that he actually could deploy a foreign policy that is moderated by the errors of the last eight years. I don’t think President McCain would be the red-faced ideologue we’ve been seeing on the stump since this Summer. There is still good in him. I can sense it.

However, it can’t be allowed to happen, because if this campaign is successful, what does that mean for 2012? If guilt by association tactics, and lies about someone’s faith and family are an effective way to the White House, why not email lies discrediting incumbent President McCain’s Vietnam service, and conduct in the Hanoi Hilton? If scare tactics work, why not do absolutely everything you can to smear your opponent? If intimidation is allowed to work, why not put it into practice, in ways large and small?

I actually believe that we can back away from the brink here. I think the country can denounce Swift Boat tactics, rather than make them the default, but at this point there’s only one way to do it, and that’s to elect Obama.

For my part, I’m gonna go buy another sign.

In the 12th installment of his 4-part series, Fled the Asylum tells us why he might be about to flip-flop…as if anyone is still reading his crap.

After deciding to attend the Hillary rally last weekend, I also committed that if the opportunity should arise, I’d try to see Obama before the primary circus left Texas, sweeping away all of the attention that we in the political hinterlands of Houston so desperately crave.

So when I saw that Senator Obama was making a Monday night appearance at the Convention Center, I immediately submitted my RSVP and then rushed an email off to the most influential person in Texas politics that I know, who will still take my calls.

“Hey Eileen, I know I told you not to call me anymore, but I was wondering if there’s a special ‘guest blogger’ or ‘I know someone who knows Paul Burka’ handshake you could tell me about that might keep me from having to stand in the cold for two hours to see Obama on Monday night. Call me! Thanks, Fled.”

No response.

So I queued up at 6:00PM for the 8:00PM event, and between rounds of head-to-head cell phone Tetris with strangers from all over the globe, I had a number of small conversations with various Obama supporters — a woman who went to the already-legendary Toyota Center rally with only a standby ticket and was thrilled to get a seat in the nosebleed section; a grandfather and Obama precinct captain, who moved to Houston from Brooklyn to be with his grandkids a year ago.

Very much middle-class voters, who are energized about the process. African Americans for whom the “black enough” question could not be further from their minds.

The demographics of the crowd, for that matter, differed significantly from the Hillary rally. I’ve been “the white guy” in a room full of not-white people, and this wasn’t exactly that, but it was small refresher course on being in the minority. We crackers need that every now and then.

Although I steeled myself to stand outside the Convention Center for two hours, after 30 to 45 minutes, the doors opened and we were let in. Ah! Sweet, stale conditioned air. From about 7:00 until around 8:00 we stood inside in tidy rows, waiting for the opening of the doors to the hall where Obama would speak.

Even though this was a Monday night, people were generally feeling good, and I noticed the absence of the sense of panic and suspicion which hung over the wait for the Hillary rally. We were all ticketed; we were all in line. No one was going to steal anyone’s spot, or cut in line and no one really appeared to care if you did.

After the doors opened at 8:00, we passed through security — staffed by uniformed TSA officers — and into the hall where Obama was to be speaking. There were concessions, and seats and, while maybe not a “rock concert” vibe, a relaxed and friendly environment. Good thing too, because we had another 90 minutes to wait.

The vaguely inspirational pop songs (Petty’s “Won’t back down”, Van Halen’s “Right Now” etc.) playing in the background helped. The purpose of Crowded House’s “Beds Are Burning” on the playlist, I found less obvious.

I overheard relative strangers bumping into each other, and getting organized for primary and caucus ride shares. Lots of apparent friends, neighbors, fellow churchgoers getting caught up. No shoving. No hostility. It was different. The folks weren’t fearful, and the feeling wasn’t negative — not about Hillary, or McCain, and barring one “Buck Fush” t-shirt (Get it? F*uck Bush!? Cuz the B and the F are mixed up! Get it!? OMG LOL), not even about the current president.

It really felt good. I wasn’t surprised, though. You know the old hackneyed stand-up routine “White people vote like this. Black people vote like this.” It was different, but overall nothing really shook me from my assumptions.

Senator Obama’s speech was, I think, standard fare.

“Yes we can.”
Can what?
Whatever! We CAN!
Uhm kay.

“Fired up.”
“Ready to go.”
Go where?
Dunno, wherever!
Uhm kay.

I have to admit, there was as much meat, though, as I heard in Senator Clinton’s speech. Even if his plan doesn’t pledge it, Obama talks about achieving universal healthcare. Hillary admitted early on that progress toward universal coverage would be incremental.

If I’m holding real world expectations against Obama, I have to do the same to Clinton. Nationwide coverage on day one is not really what she’s talking about.

One thing that really stuck with me was the challenge that Obama presented to the crowd. All too often, political speech is either “I’ll get government’s hands off of your uterus/ wallet” or “My plan will provide your family with healthcare/ your tax money back.” Whatever the candidate’s political persuasion, few have had the courage to say, “Ask what you can do for your country.”

In fairness, Obama’s way of doing this essentially called for an expansion of Bill Clinton’s AmeriCorps program, but whereas Obama said that the movement which has propelled his candidacy is in part an expression of the people that they are hungry to be engaged, Hillary has, in what I have heard, trended more toward the “give me the chance, and I’ll fix your problems” approach.

All in all, I enjoyed the speech, but alas, no goosebumps. I’m old beyond my years, I guess, and I’m probably over “chills.” Besides, ever since Albert Pujols hit that homer off of Brad Lidge in Game 5 of the 2005 National League Championship Series, I don’t think I’ve even been close, as a spectator.

Game 6 did little to bring me back, and certainly the Astros have not helped since then, but I digress and Eileen is about to ban me from ITPT altogether, for talking baseball and potentially leaving her alone with Hillary, all in one post.

In any case, I walked outside as a planned caucus-goer still in play. Obama didn’t finish, as far as I was concerned, but he did sew doubt, and maybe that’s all he had to do. Besides, the caucus is only a third the vote. I’ve made my primary bed, and the caucus is just the duvet. Right?

But wait… As I walked outside I realized that’s completely wrong. I know all sorts of people who voted in the primary who have no plan at all of caucusing. There’s no way that more than half of the people who voted early, and who are going to stand in line between 7:00 and 7:00 on Tuesday, are going to come back at night to caucus.

Holy Crap! I have more say in the caucus than I do in the primary! If, say 5 million people vote in the primary, which counts for 2/3 of Texas’ delegates, and 1 million people come back to caucus, selecting 1/3 of the delegates, that means that being one of the one million is like, I’m not a math guy, but MORE influential than being one of the five million. This is not comforting.

As I continued down the sidewalk, I was hit in the face with the realization that being a former Democratic governor in Texas may not be all it’s cracked up to be as I see Obama supporter Mark White also walking toward the free-after 6:00 curbside meter parking.

I walk just past him, as he stops to shake a hand. A second later, I hear him behind me talking to, I guess, his wife as I slow my pace, and he slightly quickens his. “What really surprised me was how well-executed this whole thing was. If he’s going to run the country as well as he runs his campaign, he’s already off to a great start.”

He’s right — and they usually do run their administrations like they run their campaigns. Obama’s organized. This event went off without a hitch. His campaign anticipated how many people would be attending. They got an appropriate room. They controlled demand by use of stand-by tickets. They used technology to help them anticipate logistics.

He has the money to do something like this, because he has broad buy-in from donors. They thought of the practical needs of the attendees — expensive bad pizza and bottled water — and they let people take care of themselves.

Hillary’s campaign did none of this. At her rally, there were no tickets, no clear lines, no water for folks who needed it, but hadn’t yet passed out. It was a mess, only kept in control at one point by the threat of blunt force by HPD.

Hillary wasn’t ready. Obama was.

So, while I would still like some assurance that Obama is going to be able to compete with the VRWC; while I think his political life has been largely charmed; while I think McCain may well chew him up and spit him out in the October debates, in true Democratic style, my flip is officially flopped, and I’ll be caucusing for Senator Obama.

However, if any single Obamaniac today makes one condescending remark, about how I’ve “seen the light,” so help me, my vote is back in play.

By Fled the Asylum

For the last few weeks, the Pink Lady and I have had something of an ongoing conversation, via text message, email, fax, phone and carrier pigeon. A typical exchange has gone something like this:

PL: Did you hear the slanderous attack MSNBC made against Hillary today?
Fled: I don’t care, Eileen. I had a tough time picking who to vote for, but I could go either way. I’m not one of you. Please stop calling me. It’s 4 AM, and I’m pretty sure MSNBC just shows newsumentaries about prison after midnight.
PL: DON’T YOU LEAVE ME! EVERYONE HAS LEFT ME. DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE M….
(click)

At the risk of having my Frequent Guest Blogger Card revoked, three stamps shy of 10 percent off the price of a “These Are Not Talking Points” tee, I thought I made clear in my last post that I never really decided against Obama. I do want to know more about him than is in evidence, specifically, how he would or will hold up under the intense fire of the general, and the job.

Furthermore, the army of Obamaniacs’ alternating bouts of orgasmic naivety and condescension, and my unwillingness to associate with them (present company excluded — cough, cough — I’m sure) has been a contributing factor to my ultimate decision to vote for Hillary in the primary.

For the most part, though, I have been a Hillary voter. Not a donor; certainly not a volunteer — just a voter, and a Frequent Guest Blogger. This is the primaries. I’m a Democrat. This is actually an election that we can’t lose. Wait. The Democrats can’t lose this one, can we?

In any case, I already voted for Hillary, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to caucus for her, but it occurs to me that since before my wife, kids, mortgage, job, first car, puberty etc., politics has been a passion of mine, and I almost let a real life primary season pass me by in Texas without even sipping the process.

Then my mom called:

Mom The Asylum: Are you going to see Hillary?
Fled: Eileen, I thought I told you to stop calling me.
Mom: Eileen!? What on Earth is wrong with you? Have you lost your damned mind?
Fled: Oh. Hi mom. Now I recognize you.
Mom: Hillary’s going to be at the IBEW Hall tonight (Saturday) at 8:00. If you’re not there, you’re dead to me.
Fled: Wait — Eileen!?
(click)

I decide to go see Hillary, and if the chance should arise, I’ll try to catch Obama too. Michele doesn’t count. Candidates only… unless it’s Bill…oh, or Uncle Teddy… or Katherine Heigl. Has she associated with a campaign yet?

Mom got in line at the Union Hall at 6:30 — the doors didn’t open until almost 9:00. I showed up around 8:30, and walked casually past hundreds of manic Hillariods — mostly boomers, a large number of them Hispanic, and one dude saying that McCain and Bloomberg were plotting to create a fascist American state, and that only Hillary — the 21st century’s FDR — could stop them. I am now acutely aware that my imagination and capacity for fear is sorely underutilized.

Just as our part of the queue was getting toward the door, many in the crowd of 2,000 began to realize that they were not going to make it in, unless they took decisive action, and for the first time in the history of the Democratic party, things became disorganized and scary, as the mob made a push for the door.

As it turned out, we were among the last of 500 to 600 who made it in, and I almost certainly “stole” someone’s place in the room, because my mom held me a spot…so…sorry. Some people steal precious space with “credentials,” I did it cuz my mommy said I could.

Once inside the IBEW hall, we stood around for another half hour or so while, I assume, the riot outside was quelled. The scene was vibrant, and oddly devoid of a bar — and I realized that all of my life, I’ve been lied to about the labor movement…unless it’s behind that curtain, guarded by a half dozen secret service agents. That must be what it is.

There was chanting (call: “Madam”, answer:”President”; “Vote for the Mama, Not Obama” did not last long) and signs (“The White House is No Place for Training Wheels”, “Hillary is my Homegirl.”)

The event was emceed by the always lovable Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee, who brought up to the stage a bevy of Hillary supporters — some dude from New York, the Lt. Gov. of Maryland, once and future Rep. Al Edwards and former Houston mayor Lee P. Brown. So… Hillary has them…

In a lull, shortly before Sheila brought out the guest of honor, the whole room could clearly hear a woman say, through the curtain “Hillary, I see you.” To which, I’m pretty sure, although I heard no response at all, Clinton responded, “Thank you for making sure that I can’t have a single fuck*ing minute of pseudo-privacy.”

Upon mystically materializing so as to be seen by the whole room, and not just the one nut yelling through a curtain, Hillary started off with the requisite thanks and shout-outs, and one seemingly random, but absolutely mandatory point-and-smile. She also accepted the endorsement of 21 Houston-area African-American pastors, or 0.00043% of the total number of Houston-area African-American pastors.

She said that Sheila had suggested, at the State of the Black Union conference in New Orleans, some time in the previous 24 to 36 hours, that Hillary make another stop in Houston on her way to DC, or Ohio or some other non-Texas place, and she was unable to say no. I think because Sheila is very, very scary.

In the small-ish room, Senator Clinton was very impressive. She did nothing to shake my confidence that she is the best candidate for the job, although her pledge for gender equality in pay did, for the first time, make me ask, “This doesn’t mean I have to make less. Does it?” Mom was not amused.

While it was clear that some in the crowd were emotionally moved, what I saw was a capable professional that I would be proud to call America’s representative out in the world. An “eat your vegetables” would-be president who could, in eight years, at least undo some of the damage of the last eight — and maybe even make some headway toward universal healthcare and sanity in our environmental policies.

I saw a realist who knows she is busting her ass to get the crappiest job in the world, is capable of doing the job, and who apparently is small enough to hide behind my enormous gourd.

By Fled the Asylum

After spending recent days, apparently engaging in the Clintonian practice of the politics of personal destruction, I now have to admit that I never decided against voting for Obama, per se. I’m not just saying that for fear of being associated with a loser. I have held since very early in the primary process that the Democratic voters have had an embarrassment of riches, and that any of the top five or six candidates of the original pool of 60-something, could have run in November, won and served well.

The fact that two very strong and capable candidates have slugged it out this long for the Democratic nomination is evidence not that this party is being torn apart by bitter factionalism, or looking deep into its collective soul to determine what future relevance a progressive ideology has. I’ll proudly admit that this is a conversation far more about style than policy.

On the other side, factions of Republicans have spent the better part of the last year running from great hope to great hope, looking for the least objectionable fantasy candidate that they could convince themselves would be good enough, only to settle on the guy who was going to be the pick to begin with.

Let’s honestly confess that the squabbles between the Democratic candidates and even among activists have really been pretty insignificant. When “going dirty” amounts to accusing someone of biting rhymes, things are really pretty civil, by comparison.

So while many Republicans are still going out of their way to vote for Huckabee simply to voice their distaste for McCain, and while the talk radio set continues to feign disgust, Democrats seem to be generally capable of embracing whoever emerges and propelling them to the inauguration. So, whether it’s Hillary or Obama that gets to face McCain in November, I’m confident, though maybe not certain, that the Democrat will win.

Although the public can accept that the situation in Iraq has improved from its absolute low point, the number of people who are comfortable with an open-ended commitment, and vaguely-defined benchmarks, are few. McCain, who did say that American troops may well still be in Iraq for 100 years or more is going to find that what strengthens him in the Republican party will make him far weaker in Normal America.

While Hillary still faces Kosian dissent for her approach to the war, while Obama gets a pass for the same, the threat of large-scale splintering is nothing like in the Republican party where McCain’s radical contention that kicking ten million people out of the country may have unpleasant consequences, has made him, not just a less-than-good soldier, but an outright enemy on an issue that, for a huge portion of his would-be base, is the top priority.

Many Republicans’ distaste for Hillary is persistent, but ultimately much more superficial than their distaste for McCain, whom many feel has recently stabbed them in the back. For these people, the election of McCain would be a derailing of the conservative movement. Better to have four years out of power to regroup and rally against a Democratic president, than to elect a moderate who will do more damage to the long-term aspiration of establishing a continent-wide Christian Caliphate led, in part by Pat Robertson.

On top of this comes the latest round of, possibly ill-founded, allegations that McCain may be ethics-flexible, and at the very least, unwilling to draw a clear line between his personal relationships and the lobby, even when he knows the cameras are on.

Looking at McCain’s list of ethics missteps over the years — going back to the classic Keating Five scandal — the picture begins to form that the McCain-Feingold Act might have been as much about protecting John from himself as anything. While voters may be able to move beyond a good campaign scandal to support a candidate, they’ll rarely turn out in great numbers to boost a hypocrite, especially a hypocrite whose base already has their doubts.

The McCain campaign has limped to the nomination, and it shows. While Hillary and Obama both bring out thousands of supporters for a weeknight rally, McCain gathers a dozen old white guys to stand on a riser in a hotel ballroom, even in celebrating his primary successes.

Scorpio Meghan McCain’s highly readable campaign blog inadvertently painted a picture of an effort mostly drained of enthusiasm, even when her dad was locked in a tough fight for the nomination. No packed arenas and screaming fans — just crowds of dozens in VFW halls and hotel lobbies.

Here in Houston, I have yet to see a single McCain bumper sticker, yard sign, campaign button, hat, t-shirt, flyer, or even supporter — not a single sign of life for the conservative campaign in, sadly, one of the most conservative metro areas in the nation.

Surely some of this is a function of the fact that the campaign is largely headed towards a hibernation/fundraising mode until the convention, and even Huckabee has commented that if it wasn’t for his campaign, McCain would be out of the news altogether. Even in light of this, though, I’ve had more than one Republican tell me that they plan to stay home in November — even if the options are McCain and Hillary.

Believing that McCain is highly vulnerable, I then have to concede that the only way the Democratic nominee loses is if (s)he refuses to see the writing on the wall, and unnecessarily drags the process all the way to the convention, ensuring that the nominee is battered and bloodied heading into the Fall.

If Hillary, my candidate — the person I feel is most qualified to be the president — is unable to win in both Texas and Ohio, on March 4, preferably by margins much larger than are now showing in the polls, she absolutely must drop out.

Though I did ace my TEAMS test, back when I had Jesse Jackson on my desk, I’m not a “math guy,” but it’s pretty apparent to me that if Senator Clinton is still behind after Texas, the only way she could possibly win the nomination, would be through a series of whines and miracles and unknowable superdelegate voodoo.

Should this point come, the only way to preserve the goodwill she has regained, retain her dignified Senate reputation, establish herself as a senior stateswoman and even, to some degree, protect her husband’s presidential legacy is to come out and offer a strong endorsement of Senator Obama.

Although I still believe in Hillary, for my part, a victory by Obama would be a vindication of sorts. It was over a year ago, that I declared 2009 Obamatime, and although he still ends his campaign slogan in a preposition (“Change We Can Believe In” indeed!) I am willing to put that aside, and let Obama be a guy I give my vote to.

However, at this point, 330-some days until the Inauguration, having survived the biggest chunk of the longest political season in American history, it’s reassuring to know that of the three realistic options — even under the worst case scenario — January 21, 2009 is likely the day the United States is welcomed back into the reality-based community.

Gratuitous photo added by Eileen. Did I mention that Hillary shook my hand this morning?

By Fled the Asylum

In my conversations, both with Obama loyalists and with myself, it has come up on more than one occasion that my opinion is largely based on a cynical view of the candidates and the process. Obama is a different type of guy, I’m told, and my inability to recognize that is keeping me from enjoying the defining American moment of my life.

Oh, the irony that here I have the chance to help deal a body blow to Boomer hegemony, and my Gen X skepticism of everything glossy that isn’t produced by Apple, won’t let me buy what the nice man who talks pretty and makes me feel warm inside is selling.

However, the point which has ultimately lead me to my decision, is that even Obama’s most audacious visions of an American tomorrow — more civil, hopeful and promising than any American yesterday — might actually just be some vintage sentiment that only looks new because it’s been in a closet a decade or more.

When I think about it, I’m pretty sure that every non-incumbent, non-HW president since Watergate has essentially been elected selling a variant of the exact same thing. In fact, Carter’s slogan, “A leader, for a change,” would fit perfectly in Obama’s literature. Bush’s “Reformer with Results” has a nice ring to it, but for the fact that Obama seems opposed to the general principle of results.

This isn’t, by any stretch, to say that Obama is Carter or Bush, but it’s important to note that in 1976 and in 2000, Carter and Bush weren’t the presidents we know them to be today. Both were optimistic outsiders, promising to change the tone in Washington, and for very different reasons, they both failed to do so. In their own ways, Reagan and Clinton did the same thing — sold hope and change, and delivered something, but not that legacy.

On the other hand, this Groundhog Day decisionmaking by the American populace tells me that if someone is selling change, the people are always willing to buy. Maybe for November, Obama is the better bet. No matter how many times we drink the “Change Washington” kool-aid, and watch a Washington where little changes for the better, we still line up for another drink every four to eight years.

This isn’t to say that Obama doesn’t believe what he says, or even that he’s incapable of storming Washington, and quickly building an Up With People American political climate and a national culture of selfless service that will inspire the world, engender goodwill among all humanity and motivate every enemy of freedom and democracy to beat their suicide vests into ploughshares.

Stranger things have happened, I’m sure. While past performance is not necessarily indicative of future results, and I sincerely hope it’s not, it sure looks a lot like good people don’t change Washington as much as Washington changes good people.

If I accept then that the policy promises of either candidate are both generally aligned with my own, and I’m honestly voting in the primary for who I think can deal with the problems America is facing, and not triangulating and calculating who my Republican neighbors might be less offended by when November rolls around, I have to go with the person who I believe better knows how to run the machine.

For me, without a doubt, that’s Hillary.

In Our Fourth and Final Chapter: Every bit of what I have said previously is subject to change on March 5th.

By Fled the Asylum

Early voting starts today, and as I mentioned in my post yesterday, I have decided that I will be voting for Senator Clinton. I actually have given this a lot of thought and was determined to make my decision apart from the narratives that Big News has laid out for me. What I found, however, is that Big News pretty much has a handle on this thing.

Hillary’s priorities are concrete, generally attainable and what she’s promising can be measured. Obama’s priorities are not, probably not and can’t.

This is not to say that Obama’s campaign lacks policy weight. His campaign website has decent write-ups on everything from the war to how he plans to deal with the donkey lady and the chupacabra.

However, I think that a candidate’s commitment to policy priorities is better measured in their speeches than on their website, and when Obama “uhm”s and “ahhs” his way through a debate, it raises questions for me about if he has actually bought in to what his staff says he wants to do.

On this point, I have chosen to reflect my own experiences onto this race. As someone who once worked “policy detail” for a fairly sizable campaign, it was always important for me to know where we — the policy team — I — stood with the candidate. Never for a moment did I doubt the prominent role of the work that I was doing. I knew that the list of people who had the candidate’s ear before I did was short.

Only the campaign manager, the GOTV folks, the union organizers, the campaign treasurer, the fundraisers, the paid consultants, the free consultants, the media adviser, the press secretary, the assistant press secretary, the former elected officials, the speaker’s bureau members, the phone bank coordinator, the phone bank volunteers, the union guys who put signs up, the shady guy who drove the truck and I think was tearing down other candidates signs, the pizza guy, and the dude that owned the cafe nearby who brought really good yeast rolls by a couple of times a week, had more access to the candidate than I did, and I’d like to think that we all played our own pivotal roles in the measured success we enjoyed, in losing.

I think that Senator Clinton understands, as we did in that campaign, that what you say you’re going to do is important. So when Hillary’s healthcare plan calls for a universal health insurance mandate, I consider that a vital mark in her favor.

Obama’s plan calls for a universal insurance mandate for kids, which is certainly a good start. As someone who would have chosen a BMG CD club membership over health insurance in my healthiest days, though, I know that without that mandate, tons of people who can improve the overall risk pool, and are critical for bringing costs into line, will continue to opt out.

Although as a state employee from the age of 19, I never had the chance to get that BMG membership, I’m still lazy enough to understand how the hit-in-the-groin-on-youtube generation is still running around uninsured, despite their propensity to be hit in the groin.

In fact, as a lazy person, I have yet to sign and file my own will, which has served as a handy wrist-rest on my desktop for the better part of the last two years, in part because I have never quite convinced myself that director Sidney Poitier’s 1990 classic “Ghost Dad” was not based on real events, but primarily because no one has told me I have to. I know I should. I plan to. I’m gonna. But until I experience that near-fatal hit in the groin, I can’t say what my priorities are going to be.

However, I do know that one priority for me will continue to be how little I have to pay for someone to watch my kids while I’m at work, and this is where Hillary was way out in front from very early on. Actually, little Flederick and Fleduardo are 2- and 3-years old now, so I actually doubt that Hillary’s Pre-Kindergarten-For-All vision would be in place in time for them, but their experience in a good curriculum-based daycare since they were very young has made a tremendous difference in their verbal and social skills and in their intellectual development.

My 3-year-old, Fleduardo, has the uncanny ability to make any straight object into a fishing pole, or a water hose, or a truck, or a bridge, or a baseball bat, or a tree, while 2-year-old Flederick enjoys singing songs, knows the names of all of his colors, which he assigns to colors at random, and is smearing pasta in his hair at a 4-year-old level — even when it’s not bath night.

These are the sorts of things we couldn’t teach these boys at home, and for those that don’t have access to the quality of daycare that we have, Pre-K could be the thing that boosts more children into this tier of achievement.

On another note, when Hillary talks about her 35 years of experience, I have never had the impulse to analyze her CV to tally up the 12,775 days of public life and decision-making experience. For me, the question of whether or not Senator Clinton has really been demonstrably productive for that long misses the point.

Perhaps her greatest qualification is that for decades, she has been taking crap and coming back for more. I personally get irritable when the guys at the office give me the proverbial “bidness” for wearing a tie clip (I hate it when the short end flops around), but for at least as long as her husband has been running for office, Hillary has been as criticized as any woman in public life, and has constantly been, at the very minimum, an effective advocate for her beliefs.

For her effectiveness, she has now been as fully vetted as any elected official in American public history. She has been wildly accused of everything from making criminally bad investments to making criminally good investments to killing her best friend, and she’s as strong as she has ever been.

We know what Hillary’s floor is, and in February of 2008, she’s nowhere near that. The primary season has been tough, but the overall impression that people have of her is improving.

On the other hand, Senator Obama, though certainly a tough individual, clearly a brilliant mind and himself an effective advocate, has been roundly criticized for… nothing. He has never had to deal with legitimately hostile media, and the most malicious allegation that he has had to confront is that he is a member of the second-largest religious group in the world.

I have said before that I wanted to see how Obama deals with a screw-up before I know if I can trust him. We learn so much about someone when we see how they stumble and recover (or choose not to), and until I see it, my understanding of the president Obama can be, is just incomplete.

Next installment — How I learned to stop worrying and love the boomer.

By Fled the Asylum

As someone who, in 1988, at the age of 10, taped Jesse Jackson campaign door hangers to my desk in my 5th grade classroom, the prospect of actually having the semblance of an impact on who will be the Democratic nominee for president this year has been a surprisingly nerve-wracking and unwelcome experience.

Since Super Tuesday, I have committed myself to hunkering down and picking a horse before the March 4 Texas primary, and it’s lead to a number of uncomfortable situations.

In the most frequently recurring conversation, I end up sounding like a Hillary shill, arguing against Obama’s charm and style, as a qualification for the job. Liberals, moderates and conservatives all have gone out of their way to try to convince me that Obama is the chosen one — that when he speaks, they listen, dream, hope, aspire, somehow become better.

I, on the other hand, with my hardened heart, just hear butterflies and fragrant meadows in bloom — things I like, but nothing which engenders the trust and faith I need to place in a president. I actually like Obama a lot, and I hate that this conversation makes me sound like I’m dismissing him as Joel Osteen with a mildly coked-up past and 1,200 delegates.

The only time I’ve found myself even coming close to sounding like I’m with Obama is when trying to convince a “good ole boy” union Democrat, that Obama’s race won’t keep him from winning:

• “I don’t know, man. I don’t think a lot of those folks out there aren’t going to be real comfortable voting for a black guy — and an Arab too.”
• “Uh, I think you mean Muslim — but he’s not — and would you vote for him?”
• “Well, yeah, if he’s the Democrat. I always vote straight ticket. But what does that have to do with anything.”
• “You used to perform misdemeanors of racial intimidation for fun. Not for nothin’ but if you’re going to vote for him, I think the times are a-changin’.”

More often than not, though, I found myself talking about Hillary — more as a legitimate option in a horse race conversation than anything close to a personal preference.

However, in recent days I’ve increasingly found myself thinking about Hillary in the shower. Uhm… uhhh…. I’ve found myself in the shower thinking about Hillary — no, that’s not any better. Increasingly, in recent days, I’ve found myself, in those moments set aside for political contemplation, thinking about what it is that I want from a president and which of the two candidates I believe can really deliver — and it has always lead me back to Senator Clinton.

Next installment — How pre-school, the movie “Ghost Dad” and 35 years of getting whooped on all make Hillary my choice.

Hearing Aaron Neville sing “O Holy Night” always reminds me, first, of the fact that Aaron Neville is my brother-in-law’s man crush. The fact that my brother-in-law is always good for a hint of racism, and a full dose of homophobia, would make this funnier to me were it not for the fact that Aaron Neville as anyone’s any-crush is the most hilarious concept the human mind can comprehend.

Secondly, “O Holy Night” takes me back to the sepia-toned days of Winter in Houston in the mid-80s. While visions of rainbow leg warmers danced in my older sister’s head, I could only hope that Santa would bring me a toy ’69 Dodge Charger – a replica of the General Lee from the Dukes of Hazzard… for the fourth straight Christmas. Apparently the manufacturers decided to make the General Lee out of the most fragile plastic that the Mattel scientists could develop, thereby ensuring that each aspiring Duke boy, like me, would inspire the purchase of dozens of General Lees.

Generally though, my Christmases sort of blend together in a fond, but unfunny mishmash. The last two Christmases have been special – ’04 as an expectant dad, ’05 as a new dad, now expecting his second kid. This year will be fun, as the father of a two-year-old, who screams “La Lights!!!” at every sighting of a light bulb, and a 10-month-old who screams indiscernible gibberish, spits up, stands up and then falls over, at which time he is leapt upon by a 2-year-old screaming “La Lights!!!” This is repeated constantly over the course of a 14-hour day.

Despite PL’s demands, I don’t have a Christmas story, though. Sure, I could tell you about the time it snowed in Houston and we made a bucket-shaped snowman out of what we could scrape out from under the car. I actually did that before Bart Simpson did.

Or I could tell you about the year my parents decided to fry a number of turkeys on Christmas Eve, when the temperatures hit the teens in Houston for the first time since the end of the Ice Age. The dog escaped from the yard, and I had to chase him down the street, only to realize half way down the block that I was not actually wearing pants, per se, but so-called “long underwear.”

What did I know from long underwear? This was the only time in my life it had been cold enough to warrant anything other than tighty-whities. And no one would have known either, were it not for the multi-fold wiener release mechanism – which I am pleased to say, did not fail, keeping my prepubescent wiener properly shielded from temperatures that would have certainly caused flash freezing and separation.

Ultimately, though, Christmas has always been a fairly snark-free time for me. Like so many Americans, I look forward to seeing the looks on the faces of my family, as they open a gift that has been given considerable thought, and picked out especially for them. (Target gift cards for all.)

As I open gifts to me, that have been given equivalent thought, I’ll surely do my best surprised, and exuberant look. (Hey , look at this! Another tie!) Inevitably, one or both of my boys will do something absolutely mundane which will touch me to my very core, most likely turning me into a blubbering mess. As a new father, I have a two-year reprieve from the Harry Chapin-Old Yeller rule.

However, when the yule log has burned out (or the gas supply to the yule log has been turned off), the crinkled wrapping paper is all nestled in the trash can, and my new ties are hanging neatly on that little rack in my closet, I”ll be left with that very special gift that keeps on giving – a week without work. For that very special week with my still-new little family, I”ll know deep in my heart that I have seven days during which time I can wear nothing but long underwear — and no one can take that away from me.

Read more of FledTheAsylum at www.inthepinktexas.com on that rare occasion that he feels like getting off his big ass and writing something.

You may be shocked to learn that despite his Hollywood good looks, his everyman demeanor and his effortless wit, people don’t like John Kerry.

According to a recent poll by the Quinnipiac Community College for Applied Polling Careers, Air Conditioning Repair and Music (Quinnipiac A&M), people would prefer to have a caiman crawling around in their box than to acknowledge the existence of a person by the name of John Kerry.

Kerry, who earned the votes of almost half of the half of the quarter of the sixteenth of the American population who votes only two years ago, has been been eying a run for the White House in 2008, but at this point would not qualify for a “World’s Greatest Junior Senator from Massachusetts” coffee mug on Junior Senator from Massachusetts Day.

The Quinnipiac A&M Poll asked voters to grade 20 politicians, 0-100 (No A+’s, Lenningites!) on how warm they felt towards those politicians. The top 6 consists of:

1) A Pro-Choice Republican, former mayor who had become best known for his quasi-racist policies, heavy-handed management tactics, and moving his girlfriend into his house while his wife still lived there before his decisive response to the 9/11 attacks offered America a small glimmer of much-needed reassurance. Then, convinced that no one else could get their mayor on like he could, he attempted to have himself crowned King of New York. Christopher Walken objected.

2) A very well-spoken first-term US Senator who has yet to sponsor a signature piece of legislation, won his seat with virtually no opposition, and has admitted to dabbling in “a little blow.”

3) A justifiably angry old man who is known for his “Straight Talk” and his mysteriously disappearing balls when the opportunity to provide a reach-around to the man who slandered his family presents itself. On the other hand, he has lead the charge to normalize relations with Vietnam, so apparently he doesn’t hold grudges.

4) Most likely the smartest person in the current administration. A woman who carries herself with grace, presents arguments with an air of reason, even when her point is unreasonable, and who always makes the best possible case for her beliefs. Also, the architect of current American diplomacy… so… there’s… that…

5) The only president impeached in over 100 years, an alleged womanizer, re-elected easily to his second term, who served under a cloud of investigation for every single day of those two terms. Also, arguably, the greatest president in the most recent quarter of American history.

6) The dad from ALF.

The current president, arguably the worst since the founding of the Republic, ranked 15th, just behind Al Gore, but ahead of the drag-riding trio of Newt Gingrich, Harry Reid and Kerry – also known as the three people you meet on the long train trip to Hell.

Although an early front-runner, Andy Brown was excluded from this survey of American politicians when it was revealed that Brown doesn’t technically live in the United States.

I don’t care much for Ann Coulter. The nicest thing I could say about Ann is that she embodies all that is wrong with the national conversation today. I could also say that she’s an evil bitch who glorifies the suffering of others with such startling callousness as to indict not only herself, but also those who find her remotely amusing, as the lowest functioning of all human thinkers. This, however, would be slightly less polite than the first thing. Not undeserved, of course, but less polite.

Coulter has drawn considerable fire over her new book, “Godless,” in which she criticizes a group of 9/11 widows who have utilized the spotlight granted to them by their misfortune, to support candidates and policies which they believe will reduce the risk of future attacks. Needless to say, these candidates and policies have not, generally, been the same that Coulter would have endorsed.

From what I can tell, the gist of Coulter’s argument is “buy my book.” Other than that, her objection appears to be that these women have capitalized on their personal misfortune to advocate a certain national course of action. Neither James Brady nor Nancy Reagan were available for comment.

I’d like to say that I combed the archives and found a troubling inconsistency here. I’d like to say that I discovered a column dated September 13, 2001 in which Coulter capitalizes on her personal relationship with 9/11 victim Barbara Olson to lend herself credence in advocating a massive invasion of the Middle East and a global effort of forcibly spreading her brand of Christianity.

In fact, I would say that I personally uncovered this smoking gun column, which makes Coulter look like a terrible hypocrite, but for the fact that Keith Olbermann and the good people at MSNBC’s Countdown (yes, I’m the one who keeps them on the air) did all of this for me.

Were I Ann Coulter, however, I probably would not have chosen to share the credit. A number of bloggers (jeez, them again?) have pointed out that apparently one sentence in the first chapter of “Godless” has been directly lifted from a newspaper, while another was only slightly paraphrased from a History Channel program.

Say it ain’t so, bitch. If we can’t trust nonsensical shills attempting to pawn off pulp fiction disguised as political commentary by the millions, then who can we trust?

Perhaps we can turn to our political leaders. New York’s Democratic Senator Hillary Clinton and Republican Governor George Pataki have both spoken out against Coulter’s comments on the 9/11 widows – expressing outrage that surely knows no bounds of petty partisanship.

But what of America’s Mayor, Rudy Giuliani, the pinnacle of our nation’s strength and courage in the face of terror, who is so personally tied to the events of that horrible morning, five years ago. How did he choose to phrase his condemnation?

When reached by MSNBC (seriously) staff, Giuliani’s office indicated that he would be making no comment on the matter.

Wha?

Political commentator Lawrence O’Donnell, a guest of Keith Olbermann (yes, I really get my news from the SportsCenter guy) broke it down. “For [Giuliani] to be absolutely silent on this means that he is running for the Republican nomination for the presidency.”

And isn’t that the courage of conviction that we need in the White House?

On Wednesday, April 12 the National Association of Black Social Workers began day two of their National Convention in Houston, with a session by the Institute for Black Parenting on the third flood of the Hyatt Regency. I was down the hall, as the Houston Forum welcomed Deputy White House Chief of Staff, Karl Rove for coffee and rock hard croissants. Fortunately for the organizers of both, the two lists of invitees had surprisingly little overlap.

Rove started his speech with the obligatory shout-outs to various big shots, in a room full of big shots (blogging company excluded). At one point, he picked out a notable rich guy, whom Rove recalled, “was active in Republican politics in Texas, with me, when they hunted Republicans with dogs.” I, myself, could not have done a better job of encapsulating my fond childhood remembrances. This guy’s good.

Speaking of good, the theme of Karl’s talk was essentially “my boss is awesome.” At one point, he went so far as to say “It’s like watching Ted Williams at batting practice every single day.” Initially, I was caught off-guard by this comment, as it seems like this president is fairly inept and according to an increasing number of his one-time supporters, ineffectual. Then it occurred to me, he must mean that it’s like watching Ted Williams, in his current state, at batting practice – frozen and decapitated.

In a moment of candor, Rove said that there is a nation in the world that is “lead by ideologues, with a weird sense of history.” He was referring to Iran, but you have to admire that he could get this line out without the slightest hint of irony. Every now and then, you see someone speak who is able to turn you around. You give them a fair shake, and they change your opinion. Karl almost had me. I came away from the speech feeling like, although we disagree, this guy is a true believer, and I can respect that he feels he’s a part of something that’s really helping the world. Then I started looking at my notes, and I came across something that is just now, hours after the event, making me, as they say, throw up in my mouth a little bit.

Rove said that when he was leaving Texas for Washington, he met with LBJ’s press secretary, George Christian. Christian gave Rove a picture of Johnson, sitting with a 3-4-inch thick stack of papers in front of him, slouched over, crying. It was the casualty reports from Vietnam, and Christian told Rove, “This job can break anybody.”

I think the gracious thing to do is digest that wisdom, and keep it close to your heart as you help someone shepherd our nation through a difficult period in our history, but Rove chose to share it. For what purpose? Was he conveying the gravity of the office? The burden that rests on the shoulders of a small business owner from Midland who worked his way up in this country to become the leader of the Free World? Maybe Karl Rove wanted us to know about the heavy heart that his dear friend, the Commander-in-Chief of our armed forces, carries around with him every day.

No. Karl Rove, in his limitless fervor to glorify the product that he has sold to this country, shared that story with the Houston Forum, for contrast. “This job,” he said, “won’t break this president.”

On its own, it’s a tremendous statement of faith in the person he has elected to give his life to for all these years, but in the context of this story, he may as well have said, “This president ain’t gonna cry for poor, dead teenagers.” It took me over 12 hours to see it but Karl Rove practically confessed to the coldness and the obtuse view of the world that this administration holds, even while going on to say that the president has the difficult job of meeting with parents and spouses of the war dead every week… and he still doesn’t get it.

But it wasn’t all war and virtual confessions of inhumanity. Rove also talked about a lot of the good things that are going on in America right now. Last year, Rove said we saw 3.5% economic growth – the highest of any industrialized nation. He talked about test scores improving for 4th graders in all statistical categories – including minorities and the economically disadvantaged. He said home ownership is still on the rise. He even talked about the progress that is being made to clean the environment. Through it all, the crowd listened in respectful near-silence. Not even a smattering of interruptive applause was to be heard while he rattled off all that is right with America.

Then, Rove did what comedians sometimes refer to as “finding the crowd.” He said that job one for immigration reform is to secure the borders, and the crowd, filled with many people who almost certainly have full-time housekeepers and groundskeepers of questionable citizenship, rose like the tide to give the man the president calls Turd Blossom, a hero’s ovation.

As no address from a member of this administration would be complete without at least one quick round of the blame game (not to be confused with the Plame game, the rules of which are still being formalized), Karl was happy to share the official GOP history of the recent immigration debate. The comprehensive immigration reform legislation, which was embraced by a broad swath of Americans, was killed by Harry Reid because of an unwillingness to accept amendments, including a ban on amnesty for felons.

Yes, the same Harry Reid who lacks the authority to hail a cab in DC. The same Harry Reid who is considered more exciting, because Dick Smothers once played him in a movie – that dude killed the first piece of consensus legislation in the Senate in 6 years so that immigrant felons could be free to roam the streets. Gee thanks, Harry!

The second and final interruptive applause line was Rove’s contention that new immigrants should “assimilate” as the Irish and Italians did before, which might not be such a bad idea but for two examples of assimilation gone horribly awry: Bennigan’s and the Olive Garden. No es bueno, Senor Rove. Claro, no es bueno.