When I was apparently the only Democrat living in northeast Indiana, I longed for a day like today, when I would wake up to read a story like this…
More than a third of the top fundraisers who helped elect George W. Bush president remain on the sidelines in 2008, contributing to a gaping financial disparity between the GOP candidates and their Democratic counterparts. Scores of Bush Pioneers and Rangers are not working for any Republican candidate, citing discontent with the war in Iraq, anger at the performance of Republicans in Congress and a general lack of enthusiasm. More than two dozen have actually made contributions to Democrats.
…and then a story like this…
In a strong repudiation of a fellow Republican, Rep. Mark Souder, R-3rd, yanked his support Tuesday from GOP mayoral candidate Matt Kelty, who is under indictment on perjury and campaign finance charges. “My endorsement of Matt Kelty does not stand,” Souder said in a two-page statement released shortly after 7 p.m. He painted a picture of spurious statements from Kelty’s inner circle and said the “indictments were substantial, not superficial.”
…and then a story like this…
Fred Thompson got into the Republican race with great expectations. And sure enough, just after he got in last month, polling showed Thompson and Rudy Giuliani were just about tied for front-runner. But since then, Thompson’s taken a lot of flak for a lackluster campaign from party activists in Iowa and New Hampshire. Support for his campaign has also wavered.
…and I would think I had died and awakened in the Land of Just Desserts, or that I’d lived long enough to see the pendulum finally come swinging back. And I would pour a great cup of coffee and wander around crowing at random Republicans, “sucks to be you!”
But I don’t feel like doing that. What is this strange thing inside me that stops me from gloating? I believe it’s called “empathy.” We Democrats are long on empathy; it’s what makes others refer to us as bleeding hearts. Well, my right-wing friends, be grateful for that big leaky muscle today.
Actually, the story that most interests me is the second one, the one about the Fort Wayne mayor’s race. It’s instructive to my vast international readership (“16,836 visits came from 96 countries/territories” — Google Analytics), so please, don’t skip down to the bloggage just yet. What’s happening in that mid-size city far off the beaten path is a microcosm of what’s happening elsewhere in the party; the insulting cake is sort of a local, sweeter version of the war in Iraq. And what’s happening is this: The GOP is finally coming to grips with who’s been living under their big tent with them, and screeching, “There goes the neighborhood!”
Republicans, like Democrats, have always fallen into subgroups that have less in common with one another than perhaps was evident back when they were winning elections. For every country-club Republican who thinks some taxes are necessary and abortion should remain legal, there’s one who would happily turn every street into a toll road rather than pay for ones s/he never uses and throw women in jail for using birth control. Until recently, they thought they were all on the same team. Turns out they aren’t. Hence, delamination.
They need a Sister Souljah moment, stat. For now, I’ll just sit back and watch the show.
Anyway, none of this matters, because the deadly bacteria is going to get us all. I read about this stuff every night when I’m combing the globe for health-care news, and let me tell you, it can affect your outlook. The other day I was passed by a car with a vanity license plate: MRSA. All I could think was, “Why would someone get a plate commemorating methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus?” I was home before it occurred to me that it might have been some lady proud to call herself Mrs. Adams.
Why do I keep getting 20-percent-off coupons by mail for a chain store in Michigan, when I lived about the same distance from an identical store in Fort Wayne and never got anything? Zipskinny will tell you why. Try the comparison feature and see whether you’re moving up in the world. (And note how numbers lie; according to stats alone, the Zip code for the University of Michigan is one of the poorest in the country. I guess when you consider work-study incomes of dorm residents, sure. But please. Forest, trees, etc.)
NFL wide receiver says he never tips the pizza delivery guy, is challenged to do the job for a shift, accepts. I’m sure he got a real sense for what the job is like, what with all those TV cameras following him around.
I am refusing to root for the Tribe because that will curse the Tribe. So I am not rooting for the Tribe. But on behalf of my long-suffering, Tribe-loving friends and colleagues, I am cautiously hopeful for a pleasing outcome.
How’s that for weasely? Have a swell day, all.