Here's What They Actually Said...Just THIS WEEK!

By Peter Rodman
and compiled from other sources*

Okay, so this week I'm going to take the lazy way out, and let the candidates speak for themselves!  I think you'll find this passel of stories as fascinating as I did. 
Remember, folks: We're actually considering making some of  these people President of the United States of America.
So here's what they actually said…just THIS WEEK!

　
Ron Paul on Hurricane Irene: Response Should Be Like It Was In 1900 


Taking his anti-government ideology to its logical extreme, Rep. Ron Paul (R-TX) told NBC News’ Jo Ling Kent today that there should be no national response to Hurricane Irene, and that government responses should revert back to how they were over 100 years ago. “We should be like 1900, we should be like 1940 1950 1960,” he said. 

Ron Paul...



...George and Ringo

 “I live on the gulf coast, we deal with storms all the time,” said Paul, who has called for abolishing FEMA, dismissed the organization because it is “a great contribution to deficit financing.”  Heckuva job, Ron.

Glenn Beck called Hurricane Irene a "blessing" on his Friday radio show, saying it would teach people to be prepared for disasters. 
As the hurricane barreled towards the East Coast, Beck said that it would be a valuable lesson for people who have not heeded his warnings. He said he has long told his followers to stock up in case of "global disruption in food." He said that, even though people had mocked him for it, disaster preparedness was key to him.
"If you've waited [until now], this hurricane is a blessing," he said. "It is God reminding you, as was the earthquake last week...you're not in control."

John Boehner and Eric Cantor Won’t Even Commit To Hurricane Relief, Without Budget Cuts 

House Majority Leader Eric Cantor (R-VA) is insisting that “any potential emergency disaster aid be offset by spending cuts.” Huffington Post reports that “Cantor spokesman Brad Dayspring on Friday declined to say where Republicans would look to make cuts to pay for a potential storm aid package.” Speaker John Boehner’s spokesperson “ducked the question altogether when asked if Boehner agreed with Cantor’s call for offsets for emergency aid.” Boehner and Cantor’s position is “a break from a bipartisan tradition” of immediately appropriating funds to help those in need following a natural disaster.

Rick Perry may have led the field in "crazy" this week.  He doubled-down on his  contention that everything from consumer protection to Social Security to federal child labor laws is "unconstitutional." 
Now he’s been caught on tape in South Carolina, comparing the civil rights movement to the GOP’s fight for lower corporate taxes and deregulation. He could hardly have picked a worse occasion (the unveiling of Martin Luther King's monument, in D.C.) to fundamentally misunderstand and misrepresent the struggle for civil rights in America.
Earlier this week, Time Magazine discovered that Perry had compared homosexuality to alcoholism in his 2008 book about the Boy Scouts.　
And just last November, Gov. Perry published a book called Fed Up!, a 240-page tome which argues that everything from child labor laws, to the Clean Air Act, to Medicare violates the Constitution.

As it turns out, however, claiming that America’s entire social safety net is unconstitutional isn’t a very popular position — so Perry’s now trying to take it all back whenever questioned about these assertions, even as he repeats them before campaign audiences.
[Perry's] communications director, Ray Sullivan, said Thursday that he had “never heard” the governor suggest [Social Security] was unconstitutional.
Not only that, Mr. Sullivan said, but “Fed Up!” is not meant to reflect the governor’s current views on how to fix the program.
The campaign’s official disavowal of “Fed Up!” is rather curious.
On Sunday evening, at Mr. Perry’s first campaign stop in Iowa, a questioner asked the governor to talk about how he would fix the country’s entitlement programs.
Mr. Perry shot back: “Have you read my book, ‘Fed Up?’ Get a copy and read it.”
Again, Fed Up! is not some 20-year-old thesis that Perry wrote before he served in elected office.
It is a nationally published manifesto that Perry was proudly signing at book tours just a few months ago. Indeed, as recently as last Monday, Perry was on the campaign trail citing Fed Up for the unusual proposition that “I don’t think the federal government has a role in your children’s education.”
And yes, he repeated once more that Social Security is a "Ponzi Scheme," and is "unconstitutional."

Michelle Bachmann said this week that she will "take a look" at LOWERING the $7.25 minimum wage, if elected Commander-in-Chief. 

That's right, she thinks we might need to lower American wages, even at the entry level, to 'compete' with foreign countries!
Honestly, you couldn't make this stuff up.  
At a campaign rally on Sunday in Sarasota, Fla., Bachmann took note of last week’s magnitude 5.8 earthquake that rocked the Washington area and whose effects were felt beyond New York City. She also cited Hurricane Irene, which hit the United States as a Category 1 hurricane before traveling up the East Coast to Canada, leaving an estimated billions of dollars in damages and almost two dozen reported deaths.
“I don't know how much God has to do to get the attention of the politicians,” Bachmann said.“We've had an earthquake; we’ve had a hurricane. He said, 'Are you going to start listening to me here? Listen to the American people, because the American people are roaring right now."
Politico.com reports that her reps are now saying it was a "joke." Says the New York Daily News, "Even if it was meant to be funny, Hurricane Irene has reportedly contributed to at least 32 deaths."

Finally, there was this:
A study led by a team of UNC-Chapel Hill and Vanderbilt professors examining what “cultural dispositions” unite the Tea Party reaching some interesting conclusions about the political movement’s relationship with the Constitution. They simultaneously revere the idea of the Constitution and hate much of what it actually says.

Their support for 'Constitutional principles' often amounts to random, inaccurate guesswork.  TP supporters were twice as likely than others to favor a constitutional amendment banning flag burning; many also support efforts to overturn citizenship as defined by the Fourteenth Amendment. The Tea Party seems more interested in simply asserting repeatedly and loudly that the Constitution already imposes their preferred policy outcomes on the country — and in ignoring any evidence to the contrary.   In the past two years, we’ve seen Tea Party elected officials claim that everything from Social Security, to Medicare, to Pell Grants and federal student loans, to federal disaster relief, to the minimum wage, to child labor laws, to the ban on whites-only lunch counters all violate the Constitution. In other words, it’s clear that the Tea Party has little interest in following the actual Constitution — they just think the rest of the nation is gullible enough to believe that it says whatever the Tea Party wants it to say.　

And there you have it:

A brief compendium of just one week's worth of mindless extremism--and just to make it fair, I've completely omitted Pat Robertson's claim that God (not an earthquake) cracked the Washington Monument, earlier this week--on purpose--because Jesus is coming soon.  

In a country where nutjobs seem to have hijacked an entire political party, no amount of reason seems to sway the 'idealogues'...despite all the destruction their 'philosophy' continues to wreak. 

...Have a Nice Day! 

________________________________
Copyright 2011 by Peter Rodman.  All Rights Reserved.
*Vast portions of this particular column were reprinted directly from stories in The Huffington Post, ProgressReport.org, and other sources.

Remembering Wendy Kale

By Peter Rodman

I'm not much for writing columns to work through my personal grief...but this will have to be an exception--for an exceptional person, and an exceptional friend.

Wendy Kale died yesterday, alone in her apartment in Boulder.  Her death is especially shocking to me, because her life-force would seem to survive anything.  But the 'dying alone' thing?
Well...in truth, that's what we both expected would eventually happen to us, living alone like we each did. We knew nobody 'in the biz' knew about our real lives...we were too busy writing about theirs!  (We even laughed about it...and it'll still happen to me, Wendy!)

I first met Wendy Kale back around '76 or so, up at the 'Program Council,' which was where concerts got put together, for the University of Colorado, in Boulder.
She was the upstart. The Kid. The Tomboy. 
The girl who'd do whatever needed doing, just so she could be there. And as these things usually happen in the rock world, she eventually made herself indispensable--in effect, inventing her own job.  While she seemed a mere 'go-fer' on my initial visits to that 4th floor office, by the time things really started cookin', Wendy Kale was the 'Program Council Publicity Director.'
Short and chubby, always cheerful (and never nasty), Wendy was driven...but not at all, by what we call 'ambition.' 
I understood her from the start. 
It was acceptance she was after; nothing more.  
(Think:  Mary Stuart Masterson, in Some Kind of Wonderful.)
While rarely starstruck by the big stars, Wendy was strangely awestruck by the local 'names' who made the music business seem like one big blur, back in Boulder's crazy '70s.
Her charismatic boss, himself still (technically) a student, was the legendary Phil Lobel.  She served at his pleasure, and that meant everything from running over to print shops to make posters, and then running all over town to put them up, to fetching lunch, to getting somebody's dry cleaning, if necessary--or even taking some serious flack, for something she might not have done, just to save the ass of some 'bigger fish.' 
Wendy was there for you. 
As the PC office whirled in an avalanche of paper and 8x10 glossies, Wendy was there, to help sort it all out. 

My own role at that time was in flux.
I was transitioning from radio personality, to newspaper columnist, back to radio again--so I'd be back-and-forth on a near daily basis, within that (UMC) building--either delivering a story to the Colorado Daily, or arranging yet another artist interview with Phil, ahead of some upcoming show or other.
Everyone knew everyone.
There was JC Ancell, the Godfather of All Things UMC, who gently-but-firmly oversaw both the paper, and the council, and even the building itself. He was like the 'grown up'--a gentle chaperone, who lovingly nurtured Wendy Kale, just as I did.  Later, there were Stu Osnow and Bob Webster and a few other future PC leaders--and Colorado Daily editors--but in those Golden Years, Wendy Kale became more essential to the workings of things, than she ever knew.

Always...there was Wendy.


That's Wendy Kale on the left, at the PC office.
(Photo from Boulder Daily Camera)

And if this sounds self-serving or conceited, I'm going to say it anyway, because Wendy would want me to.  In fact, she'd be yelling it into the phone, "Go ahead!  (laughing) You should do it!  (laughing) I can't WAIT to see what everybody says, when you do!"
Okay.  I will.  I'll say it:

Wendy Kale was my biggest fan.

At first I was confused by it. Who'd be so enamored of me?
Whenever I popped over there, she just...stopped.  Cold.  In her tracks, midstream.
Then she'd just smile. And wait. And greet me. And wait...
And after I realized what was happening, I began to see myself in her. 
She loved what I was doing, sure...but I saw what she was about--selflessness--from the moment we met.  I made it my mission to give back to her the esteem she was (needlessly, I thought) bestowing upon me.  (Can you tell these two people needed each other?)

Like Phil Lobel, I somehow found myself at the very center of that 'Boulder music/media' universe, and Wendy had tremendous respect for it (more than me or Phil, frankly) and all she really wanted was the 'secret word' to unlock the door to get in and help!
I remember taking her aside a few times, in the early days--this is how we gradually became close--saying, "Listen, don't you let these people take advantage of you!  You are GOLD!!!  You're what everybody wants in this business."
I'm not sure she ever quite believed that, but it was true.
Anyway, from that time forward, we were what they now call 'BFFs,' within the "Belder" milieu. (I can hear her cackling now, at my 'special' spelling...)

What had happened, was that two insecure people had truly connected.  One (myself) was sittin' on top of the world, at the time; the other (WK) couldn't quite believe she belonged there, too. But she did.

Whenever I feel afraid,
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune,
So no one will suspect...I'm afraid.
While shivering in my shoes,
I strike a careless pose,
And whistle a happy tune
...and no one ever knows, I'm afraid!*


I knew that feeling well.  There were still mountains to climb for me, and in a way, by encouraging her, I was giving myself some kind of internal pep talk. 
"Quit whining, Wendy Kale!" I'd say, when we'd talk about it all, on the phone.
"But I wanna know how you did it!" she said. (As if I'd conquered the world!)
"Wendy, listen to me," I answered, "and if you tell anybody this, I swear I'll KILL you!!!  But I don't know what the hell I'm even doing, half the time!  Oh, who am I kidding...ALL the time!  You've just gotta fool everybody into thinking you do!"
"But you're a WRITER!"
"Oh, pulleeze! I'm a writer?  Because I beg and plead every other day, to get a story in the Daily, for $35?  Give me a break! YOU'RE a writer too." 
"Thirty five dollars?  They only pay me fifteen!!!"
And on and on it went.
Her self-esteem was never where it should be, and quite frankly, neither was mine.  I just faked it better.

The result of this deception
is very strange to tell;
For when I fool, the people I fool
...I fool myself, as well!*

And that defined our friendship, for decades to come: Wendy's open heart meeting mine, and mine hers, always privately--with a little dose of friendly 'dish' thrown in, for good measure.  Although I've not "mentored" too many people, I think she'd agree, I always took Wendy under my wing--because to me, she was like a mirror of my own life...the too-short kid, who got 'picked last' for the stickball team, just dying to be in on the action, no matter what. 
And don't think it was all magnanimity on my part, either.
I simply couldn't stand to see another person hurt the way I had been, as a kid. 
I wanted her to unlock her 'inner Wendy,' and feel the only acceptance that ever matters: self-acceptance. 



We spent many hours on the phone back then, because when I was out at shows, I'd often be caught in some crazy scrum, competing for access, or just trying to get out of the place altogether, so that I could meet a deadline, edit a radio show, or just go home, and see if my wife was still there. 
Such is the life of a contract player, or 'freelancer,' as you like.  (Note to freelancers: It ain't all bad. By retaining full ownership of my interviews and stories in exchange for low wages, I inadvertently set up my own retirement fund!)
And as much as I encouraged her, a funny thing began to happen.
Suddenly, this scrappy kid was growing up, and we'd become friends. In addition to becoming a terrific 'back channel' source for this writer, she was encouraging me.
"Oh my GOD, I can't believe they'd do that to you!" she said to me one time. "You're the whole reason anybody even listens to KBCO!"
I could give you another hundred of those, but how do you say what Wendy always said to me, without seeming immodest?
She was my biggest fan.

Much more importantly, I could trust her.  I used to ask her things--sensitive, political things--things I couldn't ask anybody else.  She seemed endlessly surprised (even thrilled) that I needed her advice at all...but I really, really did.  Wendy was the only one I knew who was entirely without an agenda.  
She was everybody else's enabler. 
She enabled us all, to reach bigger heights.  She enabled a dying music scene to be reborn, with ceaseless encouragement.  With no gas in her own tank, and not a penny to spare, she was willing to siphon her own energy, simply to help jump-start YOUR engine.
By this I mean no sexual innuendo whatsoever.  There was none of that with us.  
This was a friendship forged by complete and total trust.



Eagles at Folsom Stadium--July, 1978
Press Box Photo by Peter Rodman  

 When the Eagles came to town, Wendy (as usual) knocked herself out, to score what could only be considered an amazing 'coup.' She'd actually contacted Boyd Elder in Texas, the painter who had designed the album covers for The Eagles Greatest Hits and On The Border, and secured the rights to use one of his famous 'cow-skull' paintings, as a collectible poster for the upcoming stadium show, at Colorado's Folsom Field!
Killer idea, right?
Wrong!
The Eagles' management--notorious 'badasses,' at the time--got wind of her efforts only when Wendy (very sweetly, and ceremoniously) tried to bestow upon them a coveted, framed print of that artwork backstage, as a memento of this 65,000 seat sellout.
By the time it was over, their asshole-in-charge had dressed her down to the point of tears, streaming down both of those glorious cheeks, simply for inadvertently choosing what turned out to be a 'previously rejected' album cover painting!
Wendy, who never hurt a soul, was crushed. 
Witnessing this episode, and watching my dear friend's merciless pummeling, I decided to exact some of my own revenge on those heartless schmucks. 
A few days later, the local newspaper contained this passage:

"For all of the temperamental egos involved in this business, for all of the self-important road managers, like Eagles' Larry Solters, who was introduced to the student who did this show's publicity and said to her, "So what?"--for all of that, occasionally a show comes along that's really worth it.  This one was."

The day after it ran, on August 3, 1978 (exactly 33 years ago today, as I write this), Wendy called me, and screamed excitedly (and gratefully) into the telephone: "I can't believe you WROTE that!"  (add wildly explosive laughter, here)
She knew what was at stake for me; she said she was actually worried for me, too--and this was before either of us knew what would actually happen, as a result of the story. 

Needless to say, I received numerous calls from various minions (and reptiles) associated with the Eagles, and/or the Folsom show, during the next several days--including one from a screaming Mr. Solters, who swore I'd "never interview another Frontline act" as long as I lived! "You'll never work again! Your career is OVER!"--etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  (Think: Ari Gold.)
The following week, I made sure to get interviews with both Joni Mitchell and J. D. Souther--each, key Frontline acts, at the time.  

In truth, I'd already learned an even bigger lesson from this incident involving my friend Wendy, about my own fears:
Those guys aren't so scary, after all! 
It's the same thing Wendy and I kept teaching each other over and over, when nobody else was looking:   YOU CAN DO IT!

Make believe you're brave
And the trick will take you far...
You may be as brave,
As you make believe you are!*

The point is, even had they pushed me "out of the business, Son!" as threatened, it would have all been worth it--easily worth it--to defend my beloved Wendy Kale.
But I still remember shaking in my pajamas at home, with my nervous wife standing by, as I replied to that bigshot:
"I'm not your son!" 

Oooh, we laughed about that one!!!
And WHAT a laugh! 
Wendy's cackle redefined "cackle." 
Infectious, unbridled, and the measure of support, as always, from the world's most supportive person.

And then, a funny thing happened along the way.
Little Wendy Kale got her mojo on. Big time.


Long after the Peter Rodmans and the Phil Lobels and the Kenny Weissbergs had left town--and stopped writing about, presenting, and interviewing Boulder's musicians--long after we thought that creek had been fully panned until there was no gold left, Wendy Kale began scoring one new musical 'find' after another.  From 'Big Head' Todd to Leftover Salmon, all of those people owe a big debt of gratitude, to Wendy.
After starting out with record reviews (which is how all music writers started out, back then), she churned out endless copy for very little money about concerts, scored backstage interviews on-the-fly--and more importantly than most people realize, Wendy periodically wrote galvanizing, comprehensive overviews about 'the state of the Boulder music scene' --researched for weeks, by a person whose sheer guile (on a bicycle!) took her wherever she needed to go, and then took us along, with her.

A few years after the Eagles debacle, I was fronting an ad hoc rock band at JJ McCabe's, a downtown club in Boulder, for a three-night stand.  It was something all we radiofolks (you may pronounce that liberally) loved to do, back then: moonlight as a rock star, once a year or so.
Unfortunately, I decided to show up in a leopard-skin bathrobe, which I used as a cape/prop...and after we did "Hot Legs," it went straight downhill in a hurry. I'd had many successful gigs in Boulder, but even though the place was packed, this was not to be one of them.  
At some point a heckler started shouting anti-semitic stuff at the stage, and I'd had enough.  I jumped off the stage, went to the club manager, and demanded he be ejected, or we wouldn't continue.
Smack-dab in the middle of this Thursday night stand-off, somewhere near midnight, Wendy Kale came crashing through the crowd.
"Peter! Peter!  Candy's here!!!  She's really messed up.  You've gotta come outside!  She'll only talk to you!  She keeps calling your name!!!"
It was the only time I ever had a harsh word with Wendy Kale.  "Wendy, can't you see what's going on?  The band's onstage, and I just left the stage in the middle of the set, to talk to the manager! I can't go anywhere, right now!  I gotta solve this, and get back up there! Wendy, I'm in a war here! Tell Candy to come inside, and wait for me--and I'll see her after we get this resolved, I promise!!!"

I should have walked out of that club altogether, and trusted Wendy's eyes.  I kick myself to this day, that I didn't.  
It haunts me still. 
Wendy knew that Candy and I had grown a lot closer, during those last few months.
The next day, I found out that Candy Givens had drowned  later that night, in a hot tub. 
Wendy had been her (and my) 'canary in the coal mine'--playing the role she'd always played--but being caught up in my own silly-ass dramas at the time, I'd somehow missed it. 
I'd missed the cue, dammit!
From the only person whose cues never, ever let me down!
I will hold that regret in my heart, forever. 
I've always wondered what I could have done to help, if anything, had I simply dropped it all, and left the club--mid-gig--to go find, and somehow help, Candy.   

And I will hold Wendy Kale in my heart forever.

Somewhere during the early years, she'd added "Rock 'n Roll" as (more or less) her middle name.  Wendy "Rock 'n Roll" Kale, it went.  I always thought it was unecessary, and refused to call her that. 
Even if somebody had briefly 'tagged' her that way at the PC office, it was Wendy's decision, to let the nickname 'stick,' but it always seemed to me like she did it because maybe she thought people might forget who she even was, if she just called up and said "Hi, it's Wendy Kale," instead of "Hi, it's Wendy Rock n' Roll, remember me?" 
I told her that, too.  I said I suspected it was maybe a good strategy, but I was sure it was born of the insecurity I was hoping she'd gotten over.  She was way too talented to ever sell herself short.

Occasionally, decades after leaving Boulder, I'd call her up just to surprise her.  We'd immediately pick up where we left off--dishin' the dirt, laughing hysterically at the changes in some of our mutual characters' lives, and updating our current activities for each other. 
I always tried to tell her, "Wendy, you've now far exceeded the contribution to Boulder's music scene that any of us ever made; you literally helped nurse it back from life support!"   
By now, she was THE rock-solid music columnist in town.  Everybody counted on the lady, to tell them what was good, what was happening, who was hot, and where it was all going. And she did it all, as the editor of the Daily said today, "for peanuts."
...but not really.
Wendy Kale saw a story in Boulder.  She fell in love with it, and told it until there was nobody else left to tell it.  She would have done it, and often did it, for free.  It was never about success or money.  It was all about love.

When KBCO had a "25th Year Anniversary Celebration" several years back, Wendy just assumed I'd be part of it.  So did I. 
Anyway, before the event, she called me here in Nashville, and for the first time ever, she did a full-bore interview with me, about two hours long.  The resulting cover story and multi-page spread was so amazing, I couldn't have asked for anything more.  She wrote something to the effect of, "Back in the day, when Boulder was cookin', you could go out six nights a week and find any number of great bands playing.  But on the seventh night, everybody stayed home, to listen to Sunday Night with Peter Rodman."

It was her personal gift to me--in essence, a culmination of all she thought, that she'd never really said to anyone else but me. I've included only one of a ton of complimentary statements within the story, but it was a love letter from someone I loved in return, and I'll never, ever forget it.  
Unfortunately, KBCO had been sold, and sold again--and by this time, nobody there even remembered my name! 
It  must have been hilarious to see the dumbfounded looks on their faces at the 'new' KBCO, when they saw this huge newspaper spread about me, commemorating their big anniversary!
"Who the hell is this?"
The point is, Wendy remembered--which was all I ever needed.  

"And, in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make" is a cliche to most folks, now. 
Wendy Kale, more than most, really knew that truth, and lived by it.

And in the end,  I was HER biggest fan.

I don't know quite how to end this--just like I would never have known how to end a solid, 35 year friendship.
But I wonder what she'd think of this little column about her. I wish I knew. I wish there was one more call.  I can just hear her now, on the other end of the phone...
"Peter, I loved your piece about me!  But could you just take out the 'chubby' part?  Do you have to say 'chubby'?"
"No way, Wendy!  That's a huge part of your appeal!  Without that babyface, where would we all be?" 
Then, there would be that indelible cackle.

I never wanted this conversation to end, Wendy.

________________________________
Copyright 2011 by Peter Rodman.  All Rights Reserved.
________________________________________________
*"I Whistle A Happy Tune" Copyright 1951, Words and Music by Rodgers and Hammerstein.


  

Pay No Attention to The Evil Men with Twirly Mustaches

By Peter Rodman

On Monday, if no agreement has been reached between the two houses of Congress, the stock market will plunge precipitously, by several hundred points.  
Our national "AAA" credit rating is likely to be downgraded, resulting in hundreds of dollars in extra interest charges to most middle class American families, every single month. 
If that's not a 'tax,' I don't know what is. 
But this seems not to faze the GOP in the least.

You can count on Fox News and Laura Ingraham and the rest to work overtime, spinning this whole thing as President Obama's fault. But here we are, trapped in yet another unecessary, months-long battle, crippling our government, ignoring the jobs problem--stuck arguing philosophy, with the 'Evil Landlords' of the GOP, who have come to collect the rent money, from a frightened nation held hostage.
Honestly, Folks...
Could it be any clearer, who the real villains are?


Radical Republicans have succeeded in creating a crisis where there simply was none--and all for...what?  To prove that they're suddenly 'serious' about cutting government spending?  
On Thursday, the New York Times published a chart, based strictly upon U.S. Treasury Department statistics, showing that of the supposed "14 trillion" in debt, President Obama's administration is actually only responsible for a mere $2.4 trillion of it. 

Guess which eight-year regime is The All-Time Borrowing Champeen, ringing in at $6.4 trillion, from two ten-year wars (at least one of which was entirely unecessary), a couple trillion bucks in tax breaks for the wealthiest among us (and where are those jobs they were to have created, Dubya?), and the absolute rape of corporate regulations, leaving this country to be run, as Paul Begala puts it, "like a casino."


The Republican Party as we once knew it is no longer.  It's been hijacked by hate-talk radio, Fox News, and the Karl Rove/Koch Brothers money machine.
The most recent trend being proffered by the right is that any yahoo can govern. 
And why not?  Hey, even if she walked off the job in the middle of her term as Governor, Sarah Palin looks good! 
Yippee! (In fact, the main difference between this group of anarchists and the actual Yippees, is that the Yippees never seriously nominated Abbie Hoffman for elective office.)

 The right-wing narrative is that "big gub'mint" gets in the way of commerce; regulating food, safety, and the environment are "job killing" propositions; and helping the poor is a foolish waste of the public's time and money. 
As is science.  As is education.  Conservation.  Anything "green." Etcetera.
In other words, cut it all to pieces. 
In short?
Anything good is bad for you.

"We can't afford it!" they holler.
(But we can afford a couple trillion in gifts to the richest 1% of us, and we can afford to let corporations pay ZERO taxes...)


So here we are again, this time (even more ridiculously) arguing about whether or not to pay our past bills, by raising the debt ceiling, which Ronald Reagan did seventeen times, George W. Bush did seven times, and every President has done without any of this drama, whenever necessary.
"Raising the debt ceiling."  
What does this mean?

Last week, the Daily Beast's, Christopher Hayes put it best: 
He said it's as if we all went to dinner, Republicans and Democrats alike, and we each ordered everything we wanted, and ate it all--including dessert--and then, when the bill came due, the Republicans got up and left the table, refusing to pay until we all agree never to eat out again. 
The point is, the 'debt ceiling' concerns our past bills; everything spent already. 
It has nothing to do with the future.


The "crisis" that Fox News and the GOP love to pretend we're in exists solely because they've put us there.
Again: Raising the debt ceiling is a routine measure. 
It's already been done twice, under Obama. 
And again: It was done SEVEN TIMES, under George W. Bush!


While some (including Obama) voted against it at various times, never was the nation being held hostage by a radical opposition, like it is today. 
And if we're so broke, why aren't those tax breaks for the wealthy even on the table?

The answer is that this crop of Tea Party Republicans couldn't care less about creating anarchy.  They'd rather your country collapse than compromise at all, so they can re-shape it in the image of Rush Limbaugh.

This is the kind of breakdown that happens whenever societies decide to attack the best minds they have. 

Anti-intellectualism has a long history of destroying great civilizations; from Greece to Germany, the trail of hatred and anarchy is long and bloody, when mobs decide to seize control and tear apart all that exists, willy-nilly.


I can tell you right now, I love my country.  But I am not at all optimistic that we haven't planted the seeds of our own demise. 
First, and perhaps most importantly, we ended the 'Fairness Doctrine' for broadcast outlets, a couple decades ago. 

This created what we have today: 
A funhouse mirror on talk radio, full of reckless clowns pumping out total distortion, and only one point of view, 24/7, to an unsuspecting public. 
Lies substitute for truth; blatant falsehoods casually waft through the air until they reach your ear, disguised as fact. 
It's a one-sided, non-stop, right-wing hate machine--spewing the most vile and preposterous nonsense imaginable. 
It wouldn't surprise me if Sean Hannity or Michael Savage  actually declared the world was flat.  (Apologies to Tom Friedman.)
In their world, up is down; rich is poor; racists are victims of 'reverse racism'; and most importantly, wrong is right.


I'm going to make a rather shocking prediction, here.
If the programs that are being slashed right now continue to crush the poor, ignore the jobless, outsource our corporate profits (and jobs) overseas, fail to tax the rich at all in many cases, strip workers of their collective bargaining rights, demonize the government, and cripple the middle class much further, you can count on riots and bloodshed and looting in the streets--your streets--on a scale that will make Cairo once again seem like a vacation destination.


We are planting the seeds of an absolute class uprising.
And this is not 20 or 30 years away, either. 
It's right around the corner. If the right wing is allowed to continue holding this nation hostage, cutting back all benefits to teachers, schools and police, in favor of keeping corporate and capital gains tax loopholes open for billionaires...there will be headlines so drastic and so life-changing in America, that you'll forget where you were on November 22, 1963, or possibly even 9/11.
Put more simply:  You ain't seen nothin' in this lifetime, like you will see, if actual class warfare ensues. 
A good investment might be wrought-iron bars, for your windows. 
It will not be pretty.
And it will be everywhere.

The current debt ceiling 'controversy' is but another glimpse of the nightmarish vision of America that some very evil, very stupid people are attempting to foist upon the rest of us.
The other day, Glenn Beck actually suggested on his nationwide radio talk show that "six million checks are too many" for the government to be writing each month.
Imagine that. 
Imagine if some off-the-top-of-his-head numbskull ever gets to unilaterally decide that "six million monthly checks are too many."  What happens then?  No pavement, to fix the potholes?  No school air-conditioning repairs? No police uniforms? No food inspectors?  No garbage collection? No '911' staffing?
Since when does every jackass get to chime in about undoing what took us all 240 years to do?

Oh, I see.  You don't like big government?
Guess what:  It's a big country. 
If you really like small governments, may I recommend Lichtenstein. 

A whole lot of idiots have bought into this kind of talk show 'schtick'--and somehow, elements which would have been considered a radical fringe throughout our history are now given a seat at the national table. 
What's the old saying? 
"Opinions are like assholes; everybody's got one."


The trouble is, we've been letting these reckless cowards get taken seriously.  Our 24/7 cable TV news monster desperately needs 'content,' so no matter how nutty your ideas, they'll air them. That, we know.
But we've somehow begun pretending that these fringe voices matter, just as much as the vast majority of credible ideas...and as a result, 87 of the most wild-eyed nutballs imaginable made it into Congress, last year.   Michelle Bachmann?  Rand Paul?  Really???
None of them care much to actually govern.  (Bachmann, for example, has missed more votes than she has actually cast this year.)  Yet all of them seem hell-bent on shaking our government to its very foundation. It is a mandate for self-destruction.
Whoever coined the term "idiocracy" was right.


We've gotten down to where scientists are called "elites," NASA basically no longer exists, regular newspapers and networks are portrayed as  radical ("mainstream/lamestream media"), and every whackjob out there gets to chime in with uninformed and reckless "ideas," about how to dismantle over 200 years of the greatest civilization in the history of this planet.
Many, many great minds converged--and yes, compromised, over many decades--to help form Social Security, Medicare, and so many of the other crowning achievments which have made America what it is today. 
But somehow, we've come to a point where we're entertaining "ideas" from everyone in the classroom who raises their hand to say, "Hey, I've got a better idea!!!"  Is there any wonder it all suddenly looks and feels like third grade?

Now, every jerk with a telephone or a keyboard gets to say, "Forget all that!  Tear it down!  Gub'mint's too big!"

"I've got an idea! We write too many checks!  Let's just cut the amount of checks we write in half!"
Seriously.  That's how bad it's gotten.


On Monday night at 11:59, President Obama should grow a pair and do the right thing.
Go ahead and raise the debt ceiling.
That's right.
All on his own, with the stroke of a pen...and NO conditions. 
Remember, this is only to pay our past bills--money which both parties long ago voted to spend, right or wrong.


And Mr. President, I frankly don't care whether you invoke the 14th Amendment (as Bill Clinton has suggested you do) or simply cite your 'executive authority' to act unilaterally, in a national emergency: Just do it.




Mitch McConnell and Jiminy Glick:
Separated at Birth?

Not a court in the land, including the conservatively-stacked 'Roberts' Supreme Court, would dare undo a debt ceiling in the name of Constitutional minutiae.
It simply ain't gonna happen.
They will not unilaterally risk collapsing our economy--but John Boehner and his evil co-horts have proven that they will. 


And after the President raises the debt ceiling on his own, (rightly) separating it from any future spending and taxation issues, we can go back to the current debate...that is, if the Republicans can stand to promote their tired ol' trickledown philosophy without holding a gun to our collective heads.

Talk about being "straight out of Central Casting!" John Boehner and Rush Limbaugh and Paul Ryan and Scott Walker couldn't look any more like the proverbial 'evil landlords,' in a silent melodrama.  So let 'em stew awhile, and twirl their shiny black mustaches, and huff, and puff, and even threaten to blow the whole house down, just like they've been doing all along...but for God's sake, stop giving them any ammunition, with which to do it.

Cut 'em off at the pass, Mr. President. We need you to ride in at the last minute and save the day, Hollywood style! Raise this damn "debt ceiling" without 'em--and pay no attention to those evil, cowardly,  small-minded men, hiding behind the curtain.

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This article is Copyright 2011 by Peter Rodman.  All Rights Reserved. You are welcome to share it with your friends.