I’m trying to analyze yesterday’s primary results, in which a moderate Republican, Rick Snyder, triumphed over four others, and by “triumphed,” I mean, “shamed them.” The two tea party candidates, Dutch and Smirky, came in second and third and split the right wing down the middle. Dutch, Pete Hoekstra, would have been the lesser of the two evils, but only incrementally, and besides, Snyder beat him like a drum. How shocking to discover that a movement based on ideological orthodoxy can’t attract a sufficiently orthodox candidate to please everyone.
Or, in the case of Nevada, a sane one.
The Democrats nominated a fiery populist, Virg Bernero. Conventional wisdom is that we’ll have a Republican governor in fall, and my guess is, Snyder will beat Bernero like a rented mule. I can live with a Gov. Snyder.
Elsewhere, Carolyn Cheeks Kilpatrick, who stayed holed up in her bunker all night, fell hard to a state senator, Hansen Clarke, so that’s showbiz. And in my state-rep primary, the harder-right tea party organizer lost to a more moderate Republican who dropped lots of green buzzwords in her platform literature. Michigan is a more moderate state than many, and I don’t want to draw grand conclusions in a time of economic emergency, but I’d say that for the time being, we’re less interested in stopping ENCROACHING MARXISM than in getting the economy’s engine running again. Just a thought.
It wasn’t a terrible day, but a frustrating one. I had the strong sense of running very hard and gaining no ground, which is never pleasant. So I went for a fast bike ride in hot-soup weather conditions, then remembered I needed milk and OJ. Stopped at Kroger, stepped into the blessed AC and promptly began sweating like someone having a heart attack. I must have looked alarming, because an old lady told me to go ahead of her at the checkout. The guy in front wasn’t giving any ground, checking out with a case of Miller High Life tall boys. He did tell me, more than once, that his children didn’t like skim milk, and called it “water milk.” I didn’t tell him that my husband didn’t like Miller High Life, no matter what size the can. On the other hand, I just put a six-pack carton of his current favorite in the recycling, and glimpsed the price tag: $9.69. FOR A SIX-PACK?!?? Jeez. Oh, well. Bell’s Oberon, if you’re wondering.
And then I salvaged what remained of the day with a tomato and corn pie, recipe left in the comments last Friday by I-forget-who, but I thanks you just the same. It was delicious. If you make it yourself, be advised you can use Pillsbury pre-made pie crusts (I did) and any old kind of cheese you want (I did) and even add ingredients (I’d suggest bacon), and you will not be sorry. Less-juicy tomato varieties would make it less soupy, but if you just squeeze the pulp out of about two-thirds of them (leaving a little for taste), everything will work out juuuust fine. It was the kind of dish that really salvaged the evening, even if Kate wouldn’t touch it. More for me.
Today, I’m trying to change my luck. “Transformers 3” is hiring paid extras, so I just submitted my deets and headshot. I think I really missed my chance by not joining the “Red Dawn” cast of thousands last year; with my figure and excellent pronunciation of Russian, I was a natural to play a stout lesbian prison-camp guard who makes lusty eyes at one of the young Wolverines — you know, the Mary Woronov type.
By the way, when is “Red Dawn 2010” going to be released? I have about half a dozen films featuring Detroit friends and acquaintances to see, and all of them are backed up like aircraft in a holding pattern. Like “The Irishman.”
Bloggage: Jolene recommended this to me, and I finally got around to reading it. It’s heartbreaking, but essential, a typically excellent Atul Gawande look at a medical topic — end-of-life care, in this case. I will spare you the snarky remarks about Sarah Palin and death panels.
Oh, and the NYT does yet another story on the thriving Detroit arts scene. These reporters must take a number at some of these installations. Oh, well: Beats ruin porn.
And that’s it for me. Where do these summer mornings go? (You’re looking at it.) It’s blistering hot and looks like a storm’s a-comin’, so I might as well get some work done.