god bless america and god bless you

We noticed that the United States was noticeably absent from Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid's list of countries that had invaded other countries over the last 100 years for oil. Although it was laudable that Mr. Reid suggested that we have the wherewithal to extract ourselves from the oil grip, most everyone in America knows why the US invaded Iraq twice within 20 years. Withholding the truth doesn't make it go away. At least Mr. Reid didn't suggest that we're in Iraq because we need the sand for construction; something one just might hear next week in the Twin Cities.



Mr. Bill. Got to love him. One thing about him, he knows how to rouse a crowd and he knows how to get America to love and believe in itself. Democrats, who have lived for 7.5 years with Dumb and Dumber, sometimes forget why they loved Clinton so especially after our most recent primary season. It was because President Clinton had the rhetoric and the chops to make you believe. Sure Mr. Bill had his sins, and some were hard to forgive, and some were so absurd, it was hard not to yell, "no! he didn't!" Yes, he did.

Clinton does tend to forget that the economic growth over which he presided was largely built on credit-card debt and home refinancing. Some of the problems with today's credit and housing market collapses are attributable to Clinton era policies that allowed people to run amok with borrowing and allowed lenders to extend credit beyond reason. Everyone made out like bandits so no one was complaining; but all pyramid schemes eventually collapse and now the Bill has come due.

The most fervent speech of the night was given by Senator Kerry. He could have used some of the passion 4 years ago when he was taking on Bush2 and the Lying-Rove Juggernaut. Like Al Gore before him, he lacked the fire to call Bush the idiot that he is. Apparently Kerry can now see this since he isn't running for the highest-office-in-the-land and it remains to be seen if the Democrats are willing to toe-to-toe with people who will stop at very things to stay in power. This isn't an idle threat. Think about what this administration has done while in power. They aren't going to let go easily.

centrists listen, unify, and roar!

A media frenzy has been brewing over the mental state of Hillary Rodham Clinton supporters. Will they rally behind Barack? Will they vote for McGruff the Crime Dog? Will they sit this one out? Will they work for the Democrats this time or plot strategy for 4 more years until Hillary can rise again from the ashes of Hope. Will they give Barack their cell phone number?

I think one of the big problems that's emerged in the last 20 years, especially in national politics, is this fear of confrontation within a given party. Once the primaries are over, the centrists take charge and with them a growing fear that unless everyone is on the same page, then the party isn't unified and can't win.

The Republicans, who know how to goose-step when they need to, have shown the Democrats that being simple-minded can be useful, and much to my dismay, the Democrats have gone soft-in-the-head and followed headlong into this strategy. If Al Gore would have spoken during his 2000 run like he spoke in An Inconvenient Truth, George Bush would be a ballpark beer salesman instead of running this country. Democrats fear that a roll-call vote this week could weaken Obama, as though the Democratic process somehow weakens those who partake in it.

It's a common problem, one only has to re-read "All the King's Men" to see how this works. A candidate gains attention because they aren't afraid to stand up to the powers-that-be and then the closer they get to the center of power, the more difficult it becomes for them to do so. Party unity. It's all about party unity. At least the center of the party.

We, as a culture, no longer truly embrace the different views that are represented in this country - we see the lack of unification as a chink in our armor. And this approach isn't good for the country. Two-party politics has led us to a national mall bookended by 2 major chains both selling largely the same wares and staffed by lobbyists who care more about the product than the customers.


So in the spirit of party unity we offer this tidbit from The Midnight Special. We know you haven't heard this one in a while. And you'll notice that the styles are the same today and they were back in 1972 when this was a number 1 hit.

Section 1. Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.

Section 2. The Congress shall have the power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article.

Section 3. This amendment shall take effect two years after the date of ratification.

Text of the Equal Rights Amendment sent to the states in 1972 for ratification. Although 35 states ratified the amendment, it never achieved the 2/3's majority to become part of our constitution.

one angry white man

wow! this dude is angry with Hillary Rodham Clinton

wascally wabbit

Non-stop campaining makes fools of us all. HRC knows that as long as you remain in the race, anything can happen. Let's hope it doesn't because the reaction from all sides will likely be a lot more outrageous than in '68.

flow chart for a standing eight count

It's 19 minutes after the hour, and now it's time for our daily feature The Astrological Hour. A quick reminder these reports are not intended to foster belief in astrology, but merely to support people who cannot take responsibility for their own lives.

The Kentucky Fried Movie (1977) directed by John Landis.


Hillary Rodham Clinton's use of fuzzy math is approaching that of the Bush administration. Today she claimed victory on the laurels of winning the most popular votes in the primaries. The problem lies in the fact that she hasn't. Her new math only works if you count the votes of those her campaign already agreed wouldn't count and where her rival did not compete and wasn't even on the ballot. And she claimed victory based upon winning the most electoral votes. Ummmm. Electoral votes? That's the general election. In the primary, it delegates. Who has 2025 delegates. That's it. Nothing else matters. She got the electoral vote idea from a Karl Rove and Company memo obtained by ABC news that shows her competing well against John McCain in the general election. So it's a hypothetical based on 6 months before the election. Six months ago, HRC thought she'd be the nominee. My how times change. And that Karl Rove guy, he of the ill-fitted suit, always had the best interests of the Democratic party at heart. Rove is now an analyst on Fox News where he shares the mantle of impartiality with Bill O'Reilly. We wish them all the best.

hillary plays her last hand

OK. Up front. For once. The river. There it is. The 7 clubs. What a card to get now. You’re done. Toast. Out. Gone away. But we're going to play this hand backwards, the way you would have liked to have played it from the git-go. But that wasn't an option then. Actually, it was an option then, you just did not see it as one, you were too busy focused on the pot. Always on the pot, never on the process. So you pushed in with twenty, your last twenty, I might add, but it's too late now. The river. 7 clubs. Stand up and be counted. Out. That's how it works. You think you've got it, got the insight, got the vibe, got the trick, got the mojo, got the cards. They're coming your way. Or not. Stand up and be counted.

But we're going forwards when we should be going back. Back in time. Reverse order, remember? The cards. Yes, the cards. Your cards. The ones that were dealt. They were...coming. Coming your way, the cards. In fact they would have gone your way but you made a mistake. Some might call it a calculated one, but who calculates mistakes? No one, that would be silly. Perhaps an over calculation? A tell? Was it a tell. No. Not really, life is always more complex than a tell. A tell you could correct. But luck. How do you correct luck? You can’t really. An over estimation. That you can correct for, could have corrected for, had you seen it coming which of course you did not or we wouldn't, check that, you wouldn't be standing now.

The turn. This is where the luck began to change if such a thing can be said to change. If it can changes is it really luck? No. Strategy changes, luck carries forth. But granted, at the outside you did neglect to imagine that on the turn, after check, check, and check, your dunce-in-the-hole, the patsy who you'd set up 2 hands before, the one who was going to raise, raise, and re-raise. Patsy Boy, that's what you call him, the one with the hair, stepped out. "Out." That's what he said. Just like that. And just for a minute. Away from the table. Cool. Calm and deflected. Patsy Boy who's never, ever neglected to raise on pair of treys, is now out. Why? Turns out it's not deep, because Patsy Boy isn't deep but you knew that. Patsy Boy was recalling a memory of a girl he'd meet the night before at a bar, and had lost focus, not that he ever had much focus, for the moment Patsy Boy lost focus, and wanted to think instead about Mya? Was that her name? She didn't spell it like that, how did she spell it? M Y _ _. So he dropped that hand, it was as simple as that to try and recall the correct spelling, because recalling the spelling was the key to remembering her edress and remembering that was the key to contacting her, since phone numbers were not exchanged, and although he was slightly drunk he'd said, "sure, go ahead, give it to, I'll remember it." So his future, his future with Mayah? it all hinged on his memory, which he was now actively searching. Searching for his future and that was how you lost yours.

But back to the turn. Patsy Boy drops into a reverie and you begin your descent into being a loser, because once Patsy Boy goes the way of promises-yet-to-come you are forced to stare at the table green, because to not stare into the green is to stare into the face of your nemesis who sits across from you. That's what you call him. To his face. "Nemesis?" you'll ask, thinking this helps you understand him, calm your fears, but what you don't realize is that none of that is true. No. The opposite is true. Nemesis understands you. Thus nemesis, instead of combatant. He who imposes the rules of engagement...you are but a victim here. Of your own over-calculations. Once the hands are dealt, everything’s in motion. Things are no longer equal. Not at all. Nemesis. You’re toast. And you know it. Knew it then. Know it now. And therein lies the problem with the flop and this is really where your downfall began to be described. Think about it. A twenty. That's the price of your downfall. That and three cards on the table stretched out in a row.

It's all about possibilities. Really. Think about it. There's so much promise there, right now, at the moment they all come. There they are...ONE...TWO...THREE. Three cards fanned across the table. The possibilities are almost limitless. That's what you say to yourself. Let's play this out. What's the end game from here on out? Best to worse case. OK. Best case. Full house. Knaves and daggers. You'd love that. "Knave this! motherfuckers." That's what you'd say. Or "OK. I've seen your mercy and now to cut your heart out." Yeah that be good one. Really. OK. Second best. Spade flush, not out of the question but such a shame to lose the pair like that. It's not how you win, though, just that you do. So OK, then straight. Top or bottom, it's easy as a two-way. That could work. Now worse case. And this one's bad. Trip, trip, trip down memory lane. Count'em. "one. two. three." All so easy, all so many possibilities. Isn't life grand?"

Grand. Yes it is. You were set to be grand from the git-go. That's what you always called it. First card the git, second the go. The git-go. And what a git-go it was. This is going to do it. Easy now, don't get too over confident, but whoa, what a git. What a go. But remember, we're playing this game backwards. Why? you say, well why not? Perhaps there's a lesson to be learned here. How? How did we get here? Last hand or the first of many to come, sometimes we just never know? So the git. There is it. Now the go. Full steam ahead. Seems like the right cards. Really, odds-ons the best two hole cards to start with. Hard to beat. The best two to start with, but what you didn't know, couldn't know, was that when Patsy Boy stepped away from the table, when he took one last look at those two cards he was holding - and now we'll never know what they were because they just don't matter anymore - when he took that one last look down and then he looked up at you, just for a moment and a little smile edged along his face and then he folded and stepped away, that moment, which really had nothing to do with you, except you were both in the same room, THAT MOMENT, that moment was the tell. You never saw it coming. So you went in with your last twenty. And now you are standing. Standing and out.

no end in sight

Despite the collective groan that surfaced among the pundit class this morning, Hillary Rodham Clinton declared there was no end in sight, "hey, at this point, I'm in it for the snark."

Jeez. Where does that leave the pundit class? Paying for drinks at the victory party to raise money for West Virginia...

hillary clinton waves goodbye

Hillary Clinton, exhausted after months of dogged determination on the campaign trail and with the knowledge that nothing has worked to move ahead of Barack Obama and nothing can work short of scandal, her hopes of re-inhabiting 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue dashed, waved goodbye to her one, good chance of being President Tuesday in Indianapolis.

Clinton was bested by organization. Therein lies the reason she was unable to secure the nomination even with her gold-plated credentials - and being Senator from NY State and a two-term former First Lady, is more than golden, it's platinum.

Obama organizers descended on Indiana months ago and began to build a base of operations. With repeated calls to Obama loyalists in neighboring states after losses in Pennsylvania and the Rev. Wright controversy, the Obama campaign was able to mobilize campaign volunteers to help register voters, canvas neighborhoods, and answer questions. Not everyone was convinced, but much of the Obama strategy has been to whittle away at the poll numbers, diminish the status quo, and keep working until the difference between any Clinton win and Obama loss is so close as to be insignificant in the delegate apportionment. And Obama was able to keep the money flowing into his campaign, something Clinton learned all too late. Organization matters. Especially if you're running for CEO of the United States.

The Clintons, who walked on airs and controlled the Democratic Party for over a decade, ultimately succumbed to a case of political gout, which begets hypocrisy, until descending into its own form of tyranny. No one likes a tyrant.

Regardless of the glad-handling and kind words now, don't expect to see the same level of enthusiasm from the Clinton elite during the General Election. Why? This election will be about trying to throw the bums out. And some of the bums have been around a while.

Photo credit: Damon Winter, NYTimes.

parsing racism in america

The fallout from the Pennsylvania primary is starting to land. Not one, but two, editorials in today's NYTimes calling for Hillary Clinton to step aside given the still very long odds of her securing the nomination. Basically, it still involves a goodly portion of the super delegates who've already said they're committed to Obama to switch to her. The Clinton's, and regardless of what people like to say, it really is both Hillary and Bill, know that as long as you're in the race, anything can happen. (I tend to share this same attitude in athletic races and still end up finishing way down the list; but you never know when a tornado will wipe out the front half of the field!) They're hoping that some demon from the black lagoon steps forth and sinks Obama for good. If that happens, HRC is ready for the call-to-action. Don't bet the farm on it.

And Obama still can't win the nomination outright without a majority of the outstanding super delegates going over to him. He needs 293 delegates to secure the nomination. There are 7 primaries left that have a total of 408 delegate up for grabs. If he wins 55 percent of the vote in all of them, he nets 224 delegates and he's still shy of victory. We've known for some months that the super delegates will end up deciding this race, and it's still true. What will they use to make up their mind? Popular vote? Nod to Obama. Total victories? Again, nod to Obama. Big states? Nod to Hillary. So on and on and on it goes, where it will stop, only the super delegates know.

The good news from the bad. One in five voters said that race was an issue in their decision yesterday, which tells me that only 20 percent of the white folks are still racists, and a lesser number of them are still misogynists since those who didn't vote for Obama voted for HRC. Depressing yes, I know, but hey, these numbers are way down from the past when 80 percent of the white folk were racist bigots.

If we can get past this election, maybe someday all the bigots will have lost and no one will have to wear a made-in-China flag lapel pin if they don't want to. Unless you happen to still be a Republican and then we'll be forced to pry the lapel pin from your cold dead hands, and trust us, friendo, "we'll be happy to do so."
Elsewhere:
black like you by john strausbaugh

tough girl stance

One of Hillary Clinton's more ardent supporters adapted her campaign slogan after the Tine Fey sketch on SNL back in the March. This attitude has been what's kept HRC in the race, and if she'd adopted this approach earlier in the campaign the race would be over. It's not. And won't be for at least 2 weeks -- if not longer. What remains to be seen is if anyone in America is left to care about the outcome once the insults stop flying.

Oh, and those of you who thought Florida and Michigan had been settled? No. By Thursday, you'll start hearing again of the importance of these two key states and how the democratic process isn't being served if 'millions of American's votes aren't allowed to stand.' I won't be surprised if at the end of the entire primary race, if the loser doesn't immediately suggest, 'best two out of three?'.

clinton to offer flag lapel bill

Senators Clinton, Lieberman, and McCain are expected to jointly offer a bill that make it a crime for any America to appear in public without a USA flag lapel pin. Violators may be subject to extreme interrogation techniques and repeat offenders may also be forced into Chinese internment camps to produce even more fake cloisonne pins for patriots who would rather talk about who got bounced from last night's episode of American Idol than racism or the cost of the war in Iraq.

pinochle is for fun!

Now that Hillary Clinton has professed her love for the game of pinochle you may want to refresh your memory of RULES of the game, just in case they change mid-stream.

Example. If you're feeling ambitious you might just want to:
------------Shoot the Moon

The Winner of the bid may at his/her option declare that they intend to "Shoot the Moon". This declaration must be made after all melds have been counted and BEFORE the first card of the hand is led during play.

With such fun, who can resist?

elsewhere:
single deck pinochle rules
Image: the Meld

chief clinton stategist departs

Hillary Clinton's chief strategist, Mark Penn, has been shown to the lifeboat. The captain remains steadfast in her firm intention to be the last to leave.

Mark Penn photo, LUIS MAGÁN

careful what you wish for

In the back and forth game of Democratic primary politics, this has been a week for Obama. There was the speech on race earlier in the week which has gone platinum viral on the net. Then there were the decisions from both Michigan and Florida that there will be no do-over from the primaries that weren't. Thank goodness the plans to privately fund public elections didn't move forth; this an idea that ought to scare the hell out of folks.

Then today, there was Governor Bill Richardson's endorsement of Barack Obama, calling him a "candidate of a lifetime." And finally, there was the release of photos of President Bill Clinton with the Rev. Jeremiah Wright at a breakfast on Sept. 11, 1998 in which he, Clinton, admitted for the first time in public, that he had sinned with Monica Lewinsky.

HRC will need more appearances on SNL to get right again with the voters.

high and low cotton

Bill Steber, Pick Jesus, Belen, MS, 1994


They don't make cotton bales like they used to. A cotton bale today is the size of about 16 bales of the old 500 lb. burlapped-wrapped ones. They are the size of a tractor-trailer bed. They pick the cotton, compress it in layers, drop it at the end of the field and there it sits till the truck picks it up. No more trailers full of just picked cotton gong down the road to the compress. The reason behind the large bales is the same concept as the very large hale bales. Less surface area is exposed to the elements, therefore less spoilage of the product.

Folks are still poor in Mississippi, although casinos have brought new money in the state, largely figuring out a way to further tax the lower- and middle-income citizens while suggesting that the prize is still within the grasp. Hanging out in casinos, is sorta like a sub-prime balloon mortgage. In theory it can pay off; the reality, it almost never does. You don't imagine you'll get struck by lightning, why do you think you'll win the lottery? Only the house walks away from the table while they're ahead.

How poor is Mississippi? According to U.S. Census data more than a third (34.7 percent) of rural children in Mississippi live in poverty. The problem? Education and jobs. Without a good education, there are no good jobs. There are largely unskilled jobs in the service industry and casinos and many of those won't take you from poverty.


Elvis is still alive. At least in Tupelo. At least for a day. Hillary Clinton, who carried only a few counties in Mississippi, did carry those surrounding Tupelo. The power of Bill speaks once more.

But in Clarksville, just a short driver from the birth of the blues and the most famous road crossing in the world, voters went solidly for Barack Obama, as did the rest of the state. Clintonites are suggesting that the reason Obama won in Mississippi was because of the black vote. However, 100,000 more votes were cast for Obama as for Clinton. Although Mississippi has the highest percentage of blacks in the country, they account for only 37 percent of the population. Therefore, of Barack's total, if he got, as some suggested 90 percent of the black vote, this still accounted for only about half of his total votes. The rest. From whites and Hispanics.

So if HRC could have mobilized voters in her favor she would have been able to win the state. Isn't this how it's supposed to work? You convince the voters to vote for you, and if they do, then you win? Apparently a lot of those white folks went and voted for McGruff the Crime Dog.

romney delighted to be hillary's vice-president

Nitt Nomey, who's disappeared from the public eye for almost as long as Eliot Spitzer, emerged today to say that he'd be honored to be HRC's running mate and serve as Vice-President. No word yet from the Clinton campaign as to whether or not this is something they'd be interested in pursuing.

OH, right, there is that whole thing about delegates that the Clinton campaign needs to overcome but they're working the backrooms pretty hard on that one. Then there's this other problem. According to Steven Waldman, founder of Beliefnet.com, who was on Fresh Air today discussing his book Founding Faith this afternoon, there are two religions that you can still use to smear a political candidate in this country. Mormonism, and if you want to really turn off voters, then call them a Muslim.

Considering that the Clinton campaign has tried to taint Obama as a follower of Islam, this would seem to pose a problem with the whole "why don't you be my running-mate" idea they also floated. An idea, which really stinks of bigotry if you think about it. "Boy's got some learn' to do 'fore he's ready for the White House."

Another, as yet, un-floated trial balloon, but we've got weeks before Pennsylvania primary, is that Bill could serve as her Vice-President. An unbeatable ticket!

millions exiled to stone age

The attempted manipulation of the Florida and Michigan primary contests by the Clinton campaign, with ample help from devious Republicans who wish to fragment the party's hard drive and a serendipitous boost from the networks who love the bloody battle, threatens to pollute the Democratic party with rancor and disillusionment. For a long time to come.

Millions of young Americans, primarily energized to the party by Barack Obama, will not get behind HRC if she succeeds in wresting the nomination by strong-arm tactics, deceit, and midstream rule changes brought under a faux call "to not disenfranchise the voters of Florida and Michigan". As her husband, Bill, was fond of saying, "that dog don't hunt".

Party nominations have always played to the insiders and the party insiders made the rules (this would include members of the Clinton camp) and now they are desperate to figure out a way to cry foul and get some votes by hook or crook. Actually, they prefer to have others cry foul, and once fed a punch line, many pundits are only too eager to play along. But we digress.

Back to those young, newly christened party members. If this plays out as a nasty comeuppance to the Obama campaign "he's too young and inexperienced to play the dirty game like we (and the Republicans) play it", then come November, a large chunk of them won't vote for HRC or McGruff the Crime Dog, who just attached himself to a President who believes in torture and wants Congress to make it legal again. The also won't vote for Ralph Nader, nor Ron Paul, nor the billionaire from NYC should he decide to jump out of the cake and make it rain. No, they'll walk away from what they will now perceive, as many of them perceived before, the bullshit arena of cow-shit politics. And this will send McGruff the Crime Dog to the White House where he can extract the revenge of the people (which includes himself). My friends, five years of solitude, one hundred years of war.

If these shenannigans do come to pass then to HRC's and/or McGruff's chagrin, they'll discover that the neophytes won't go away forever. They may go away quietly. THIS TIME. But when they do come back, and THEY WILL COME BACK, it'll be to take America away from the party neanderthals and make the process more transparent and fair to those who choose to play the game.

pouty face

Bummer. Hillary Rodham Clinton had an extra day this month to raise money and boy did she ever. Thirty-five million dollars!. That will certainly buy a lot of television ads in Ohio and Texas.




Only problem. Barack Obama, who seems to always be able to word up the girl, announced that 1 million people have pledged to his campaign.

And, Oh my! The Obama campaign has raised something approaching 60 million dollars during this short month. That will buy even more television ads in Ohio and Texas.


All this money being spent is not a good thing. Nearly 100 million dollars raised by 2 candidates in one month. Folks must really, really hate George Bush. Maybe that Nader guy has something after all.

enjoy it while it lasts

In about 2 weeks you're likely to see the HRC train begin to head back to New York, resigned to the life of a U.S. Senator. Not a bad place to be, but not Pennsylvania Avenue. The Clintons will still be a major force to be reckoned with, and they'll have considerable leverage in the party convention and platform, but the days of Clinton(s) being the dominant, Democrat party, force are nearing an end.

I base this on a couple of things. Foremost are the percentages by which she's been losing in the last 11 primaries. The numbers are rising and of late, they have running close to 60 percent Obama versus 40 percent HRC. The party insiders, read super-delegates, take these numbers to heart and the only thing that really matters to them is getting a Dem in the Big House painted White come November.

Secondly, the blogosphere has seen a noticeable shift away from HRC in the last few weeks as more and more folks resign themselves that we will wait again before a woman becomes President in this country. Check out the comments section in any political blog and you can see how the respondents in her favor have been tracking down. Every since the campaigns realized that the blogosphere is just another way to hijack public opinion, candidate trolls have been hammering constantly for word up. McCain supporters launched a SURGE against the NYTimes expose about McCain's cronyism, pounding the paper with over 2400 comments, about 10 times the normal. Conservatives, like Rush Limbaugh, hate the NYTimes even more, and they were quickly able to get the retirees to do some besides listen to vitriolic screeds and play cribbage on-line.

All of this brings us to Obama and why his campaign has done so well. Howard Dean, who may have been the first candidate to effectively use the internet, has nothing on the Obama organization. They have been masterful in a number of different ways.

First to get into an Obama concert, people are meet with volunteers telling them that they need to fill out this form in order to get into the hall. They don't really, but the crush of the crowds tends to make people mad to fill in the forms. And on the form is a request for an email address. They probably get a lot of bogus emails, but they also get a lot of live ones and through those they been able to get about 1 million people to donate to their campaign. Of those, the majority have been small contributions of $100 or less. And that's been adding up as Obama continues to break funding raising numbers every quarter.

Unlike the HRC machine, the Obama campaign has not set on its laurels. It's used those campaign contributions to drive new ways to get the word out, and to use a no-cost grassroots organization to do the work that used to be done by staffers in offices. Examples, setting up the ability of people to make calls from their own home to anyone in the country on behalf of the candidate. Benefits are many. People respond best to phone calls from other folks, not from robo-machines. The callers are busy people, they have lives, they have family, but now they can work for the campaign from home and feel as though they are part of the populism.

Other examples. Why spend a lot of money printing campaign materials that are mostly wasted when you can get volunteers to print them on demand? Then they can hand them to their friends and neighbors and this is how opinions are really changed. The television spots just affirm what you've already heard from someone else.

The campaign has put out approximately 500 YouTube videos and these get spread around at essentially no cost to the candidate. Many young voters don't watch debates, or if they do, not for long, but they will watch a vid. And sometimes those vids go viral, like the will i am piece. This was was done unsolicited by the campaign. Will saw a speech and decided to make a video. A million hits later, you've got landslides in key states. Young folks - and people have been saying this to them for years - can make a difference in an election. Seems like the message is finally getting out.

It remains to be seen if the Obama campaign can carry forth this kind of energy for the many, many more months left in this election cycle. But if they can continue to spread out the work between many people, they'll stand a fighting chance.

Image from The Bancroft Library. University of California, Berkeley.

48 days, week 5

Sunday, 10:00 AM
Habitual small-time offender, Vincent "Vinnie" Carter, pushes through the Glendale City Jail doors and into the bright Southern California sun. "I can't see a damn thing out here!" he says, and then spotting his brother Jimi sitting on the steps, reaches down and plucks the new chrome aviator shades off Jimi's head and puts them on. "Better!"

"So, how was it this time? Any trouble from the latin kings? How was Mama Momo's cookin'?"

"Easy does and easy it was. The Locos have moved on, the Latin Kings are now a swing band, and Mama Momo's still the shit, I'm tellin' you... black-eyed peas, mustard greens, and corn bread for New Year's - the best in the valley. Brought me some luck too."

"How's that?"

"You'll never believe who I spent a couple of nights with."

"Your ex?"

"It's jail, Jimi, not a party dorm. She did some evil shit, but most of it was legal. Think famous."

"Mel Gibson."

"He's locked in a different kind of cell. Think A-list, not B."

"I thought Mel was A-list."

"After the AMPTP found out he hated Jews, he's been down-graded."

"What about OJ?"

"He's in Florida, you douche bag. And Hollywood, not the Most Wanted List."

"Phil Spector?"

"Hung jury, out on bail awaiting a retrial, primed to kill again. You're fucking hopeless, you know that? What do you do all day, when you're not wanking off? The View? Ellen? Sponge Bob? Do you know anything?"

"Nick Nolte."

"OK. Close enough. Jack Bauer."

"Bullshit. He's a hero, or somein'. Like Rambo. They don't put Rambo in the slammer."

"When was the last time you saw Rambo? Of course they put guys like Rambo in the slammer. Or at least they try to. When they try to arrest Rambo for walking down the street, THAT'S when he loses it. Law enforcement hates vigilantes more than they hate criminals."

"I thought 'Nam make him crazy."

"'Nam just made him paranoid and taught him how to survive. He was already crazy."

"So what's Bauer's problem."

"ProblemsZZZZ. He got tons of 'em. For starters, he's a meglomaniacle, alcoholic, serial-killing torturer with a distrust of authority and a penchant for destroying relationships."

"Sounds like a burden."

"A heavy one. But he's as light as a brother. Turns out he's got a soft spot that few people knew about. Come on, it's TCB time, let's go cash in on personal problems."

Monday, 1:00 PM CTU Headquarters
Michelle Dressler stops Tony Almeda as he makes his way to the canteen for a refill on his coffee. "Ever since you planted that tracking device in David Pouffe's shoe we've been monitoring his movements. We know he placed a call to Hector Ramirez the day that O'Reilly did his Colonel Sanders impression. But here's something really interesting. He flies to Las Vegas a day ahead of all the other Obama staffers, rents a car, and then drives to a beach in Southern California."

"That doesn't seem unusual. Vegas is only a few hours from LA. Maybe he's from there. Working a primary campaign would have to take it's toll. It's no wonder candidates say dumb things, they never get enough sleep."

"That's not the interesting part. On his way to the surf zone he made a stop. In Glendale. At the city jail."

"To see who?"

"Jack Bauer."

Tuesday, 5 PM
Carters's sky blue 1965 Cadillac Eldorado convertible cruises down Las Vegas Boulevard toward the South strip. In the trunk is a change of clothes, an ounce of primo, a fifth of Glenmorangie, and gym bag containing ninety-nine bundles of 20 dollar bills. One more bundle, strapped by an Elvis TCB money clip, bulges from his jacket pocket. Ron Surnow, whose last script was just dropped by Univeral Studios, and whom Vincent convinced to come along for "the ride, some no-limit texas hold'em, and some fresh babes", sits in the passenger seat.

As the convertible motors past the Travelodge sign, a big sign proclaims. Lucky room rate $77.77, Lucky dinner buffet $7.77. "Look Vinnie, they got a vacancy and lucky numbers."

"Fuck that. We can make our own luck. We're here for some action and we're staying at the Belagio."

"Sweetness.", Ron takes a hit from the third joint they've smoked since leaving LA, "but dude, tell me this. I've been walking a picket line for three months, my last script just got tossed in the can, and I'm flat broke. You on the other hand, have been in jail for 90 days and the first day, the very first day you get your tan back - you're spending money like there's no tomorrow. How's that happen?" He passes the joint back to Vinnie as they come to a stop light.

Vinnie looks at the joint, which is about half gone, then motions to a homeless man standing on the corner with a sign around his neck that reads, Need $$$ 4 alcohol reSERcH. Vinnie reaches in his pocket, flips out a couple of fresh twenties to the man, takes one last hit on the joint, then hands the rest to the man. "Best shit in Vegas or your money back. And be sure to spend that all in one place!", Vinnie calls as they motor away.

Then back to Ron, "New media. That's where the money, the action is. But you have to have something to sell. And I did. I had something everybody wanted and when everybody wants something, they're willing to pay top dollar for it."

"What's that?"

"A story."

"Nobody wants stories anymore, why the fuck do you think I've walked in a circle from Thanksgiving to Martin Luther King Day. They want reality. They want buzz. They want gossip."

"Exactly. And I had all three: reality, buzz, and gossip, neatly wrapped into a single story, and let me tell you, those greedy bastards at TMZ, Entertainment Tonight, AND Extra would fuck their boss's mother to get an exclusive story. I thought about making 'em, but decided to settle for a nice advance instead. From all three."

"Dude!!! They're going to be pissed. They might even want a refund. Have you seen Mary Hart lately, she could kick your ass."

"Fuckem. AND her. We'll be all in when they air that shit."

Wednesday, 5:00 AM, Las Vegas, Nevada
Hector Ramirez and Jennifer Rowland have been at the no-limit table in a Belagio back room for over 9 hours. Vinnie's still there, still talking trash, even though for the last 7 hours he's seen his massive twin chip towers slowly reduced to rubble. "That's quite a streak you got going there," he says to Jennifer. "How much you got in the bank?"

"About 250 thousand," Rowland says calmly from the blind as she examine her hole cards, ten, seven, suited diamonds. "But we plan to spend it by week's end and we'll need to double that for South Carolina, so don't do anything rash on my account." She tosses ten 1000 dollar chips into the pot and a button across the table.

"Here Vincent", she refuses to call anyone Vinnie, "since you're one of our biggest donors, you can have a button."

Vincent examines the button carefully. It's a large O, or circle, and in the middle it depicts what appears to the sun coming up over a flag-like landscape. "What's it suppose to mean? Ophrah Owns Omerica? Call."

"Could be. But what it really stands for is", she glances at Ramirez, then back to Vincent, "we like what you like. Or it could stand for..." she watches the flop: Deuce diamond and ace, nine, off-suit, "it could also stand for...OHHHH... the fun's just beginning. Five thousand to you."

"You did that in one night?" Vincent asks, motioning to Jennifer's stack.

"No, tonight's only about 80K, most of it yours, but you appear to be nearing campaign limits. Are you Ready for Change Vincent?"

Vincent pins the bucket to his jacket then checks his hole cards again, "no one is that lucky. All in." He pushes what's left of the three advances, $18,000, into the pot.

"What's the opposite of luck?" Rowland says to Ramirez.

Ramirez squeezes his cards, shakes his head, and folds, "I dunno, hard work?"

"No. It's money. Call." Rowland matches Vincent, and slides her cards face up onto the table.

Vincent stands, "the opposite of hard work is a monarchy!" and exposes a pair of Kings.

The turn is a King diamond. Vinnie looks up and shakes both fists in the air, "YES! Hail to the Chief." He knows trip kings are his ticket to 52K and a position of strength for a big comeback. Maybe he can get out of town before everything is lost.

David Pouffe steps from the back of the room and motions to Jennifer that there's a call. She nods back. "We're almost done."

The last card comes up Queen diamonds. Ramirez lets out an audible gasp, "Damn, That's an shitload lot of money for one hand."

"It's nothing, we can spend twice that amount in 60 seconds," Jennifer says quietly gathering her chips. She offers her hand to Vincent, "Pleasure before business, and it was a pleasure, but now business calls."

Vincent looks dumbfounded, realizing that he's broke again. He shakes his head, "I don't know how you did it, but you pulled that out of your ass."

Jennifer looks at the dealer, "Thanks," she says and tips him 5 thousand dollars. Then she looks at Vincent, "People say every thing's bigger in Texas. Here," she stacks 20 hundred dollar chips, "I'd say that's about the right size, about four inches" and she pushes the chips to Vincent. "Take that stack, go back to your room, and pull IT out of your ass", then stands and leaves the room.

Vincent calls to her, "Hey...I'm from Tennessee."

"What's the deal?" Jennifer asks Pouffe.

"OJ's been arrested!"

"Yeah? So? Who but TMZ cares?"

"Everyone. It's all over the news. The bloggers are having a field day with it."

"And what's that got to do with us."

"Black man in Vegas, another black man in Vegas jailed for a parole violation. To white folks, it's one and the same, and HRC and the Republicans are already leaking trial balloons about past drug-dealing and cocaine use."

"Shit. We got to get out here. Fast."

Thursday, 5:45 AM
Victor cashes his free chips and ambles into the lounge. There's an all-you-can eat breakfast buffet set-up by the stage, but it's much fancier than anything he's had in a while. Fresh fruit, Belgian waffles and omelets made to order. Vincent's used to being up at this hour, but it's still very early in the morning by Vegas standards yet the omelet bar has short wait. He fills his plate to overflowing and grabs a morning paper off the rack, takes his plate to a corner booth, and sits. He realizes he's exhausted. The food's not as good as Mama Momo's, but the coffee is strong and for ten bucks it begins to ease some of the tightness in his gut.

Even at this early hour the restaurant has a small crowd. Looking around the room he sees folks like himself who never went to bed, plus a fair contingent of tourists who appear to only come to Vegas for the all-you-can-eat buffets, corny comic shows, and kick lines. He can't understand why, if they don't like to gamble, that they don't they just go to Branson? He looks at the headlines. Clinton Deals Race Card, Obama Checks. He puts down the paper and mutters aloud, "doesn't anything ever fucking change in this country?"

"Yes, if you want it to." a woman's voice, deep in southern twang, says from the booth behind Victor.

He turns to look at the woman and finds her attractive. Mid-forties, maybe early fifties, he can't say for sure, but she's taken care of herself and she's alone. She's over-dressed for the place and the hour in a light wool, carmine suit, a strand of pearls around her neck. The clothes are tailored, her hair stylish, she looks like money Vincent thinks. Vincent was always fond of pearls, more fond of the act of standing behind a woman and unclasping them and the memory of that intrigues him as does the woman but he's forgotten how to talk and nothing comes out of his mouth except saliva.

"You know, you shouldn't eat by yourself, it's bad for your digestion" the woman says to him like she knows him.

"Not as bad as losing all your money."

"Money's not everything, you know."

"Only people who have money, say that."

"Even people that do, say that. Mind if I join you? My friend's aren't used to staying out all night, so they went back to the room. I'm all alone, I don't like being alone."

"Suit yourself" Victor tries to act excited but it sounds like a grumble.

"After my husband passed, dropped dead in the checkout line at Walmart. Took one look at the total, dropped dead just like that. Best $150 dollars I ever spent. Any way, after that my digestion when all to hell, the doctor said I was just lonely, so I started taking most of my meals at the diner, and before long I was good as new. So I try not eat alone" the woman continues. "You look sad. Don't tell me, your wife's at her mom's and you're flying solo in Vegas and it hasn't been all it was cracked up to be?"

"Yes. Nope, not married, not even in the loop. It was a buddy trip, 'till he won a few turns on the wheel, then split for a private cabana and a harem of liberal Clinton staffers. They were very impressed when he started waving his cash around."

"They say winning is everything."

"The winners say that. The losers say something else."

"And what is that?"

"Congratulations."

"I thought winners and losers both said 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas'."

"Tourist say that. People in the know, they say it's the only city where you can arrive in an $50,000 Mercedes and leave in an $800,000 Greyhound bus."

"Such a pessimist! It's too early for that. Eat something. They still have Greyhound buses? I thought those went the way of the Cadillac."

"Yes they do. And they still have Cadillacs. I've got one outside. A convertible."

"Really. I haven't been in a Cadillac in years."

"Nothing like it for seeing the country."

"Why not you? In the cabana, with the Clinton staffers?"

"Too progressive. I went for the big score but ended up getting knocked out of the debate by a court ruling."

"That's what happened to Kucinich."

"Who's Kucinich?"

"I thought you were a progressive?"

"Don't follow politics that closely; been a little out of touch of late. In truth, I'm a conservative Southerner, like that law and order dude, what's his name, Thompson. And it was Queen diamond that knocked me for a loop."

"Ladies best friend still packs a punch. How do you know about Thompson if you don't follow politics?"

"I watch tv instead. Hey, you ever seen the sun rise in the desert? It's pretty as money and lasts just as long."

"Why not, I did come to Vegas to get lucky."

Friday, 6:00 PM Charleston, South Carolina
Chef Rick is trying something he's never done before at his New South Cafe on East Bay Street. He's closed the main kitchen on a Friday night to host a fundraiser for Barack Obama. Friday is typically the busiest, and the most fun night of the week, as much of Charleston's career set gets wild and flirtatious after a week in the trenches and he's not sure how they'll react to not being able to sample his 3-star menu.

To accommodate more people in his tiny space, Rick pulled the 4-tops into the back alley and split the restaurant in half with a line of buffet tables. He was told by Mr. Pouffe, the campaign manager, that the cash bar had to be open for AT LEAST an hour before the food could be served. "Helps to loosen the pocket book" he'd told Rick.

And when Pouffe found out that it was tradition to serve a Low Country Boil on newspapers, he sent an intern out to get 50 copies of the Constitution from the day after the Iowa caucuses. That was 2 weeks ago, so no one had any and the inventive intern ended up at the recycling center where he spent the better part of an hour rooting around in the paper bin, then he stopped by his motel room where he spent another hour ironing the papers flat so they looked new. Pouffe was ready to fire him, till he saw all the headlines "Defining Moment in History; Obama Breaks Tradition; Moment of Change" spread across the tables.

Reed Messer, the erudite socialite turned food critic for the Savannah Times is trying to talk to Chef Rick over the crowd noise, trying to get something juicy for Sunday's style section. Her editor told her, "get me something, something good, find a different angle on politics, on race relations in America, New South meets Olde South, anything, but most of all, get me pictures of attractive people having a good time!" She asks Rick, "so what does your regular crowd think of all this, closing ranks for a black candidate? Has the South really changed that much?"

Rick surveys the crowd, a mix of working class stiffs drawn to the message of hope, heir's to old money drawn to the good looks, pinheads drawn to the eloquence, and campaign staffers. Rick notices that what's different about this crowd is there are more minorities in the fray than typical of Charleston society.

"Well, folks that come to my restaurant and eat my food know the South has changed considerably. We're not where we should be, but we continue to move in the right direction. That said, EVERYBODY in Charleston wants to meet Obama and since this is THE place to meet important people, it was a natural for us. But hell, I told Martha, donation or no donation, Democrat, Republican, or Independent, don't turn any regulars away. We'll need them next month when these Yankees are doing whatever it is Yankees do in February. What do they do, anyway?"

"Same thing we do Rick," Reed says, "Go to Florida."

He looks at his watch, 06:20. Folks have been pounding drinks for over an hour on an empty stomach and the place is really getting noisy. He excuses himself from Reed by pointing her in the direction of Jennifer Rowland and then heads back to the kitchen where he tells his sous chef, "we need to serve some food before some of these folks realize they don't really like each other".

Jennifer's watching the crowd and noticing that although the crowd is cordial, they have managed to segregate themselves into two camps. Black folks on one side of the buffet table, white folks on the other. She moves to the head of the table and begins directing folks to different sides of the table to better balance the mix. She stands there for the next forty-five minutes greeting folks and silently directing them, splitting their prejudices, and mixing them all together so by the time the last of the crowd has moved through the line they resemble the jumbled piles of spicy steamed sausage, potatoes, shrimp, and corn-on-the-cob that were cooked in the same pot.

David Pouffe hands Jennifer a Manhattan, her drink of choice on Friday. They stand there for a moment in silence, not sure what to say to each other. She can now smell the grease in the air, it hangs like fear, and dread, both of which seem to be following her around this week. The headlines on the newspapers are now stained with the grease and she can't seem to shake the notion that maybe, just maybe, the best has already happened, that all the promised land, was just that, a promise, and they're never going to get there. Dr. King got there, but look at the sacrifice. Fuck that. She's worked too hard for this, it was still possible, Barack said that just today, we can do it; believe, that's all you got to do, is believe.

It was David she decided. Such a bummer. A plane ride with him across the country and then a full day of campaigning. It had taken the buzz off, and having to fight the HRC steamroller of dirty tricks. Robert Johnson. Of all people. Everyone knows he sold his soul to the devil for some hip-hoppity, bootylishish fun. No wonder he and Bill were friends. And no wonder Hillary's ass was so big. Bill liked big asses, the bigger the better.

"Nice event, don't you think. Barack should be here in an hour. He got hung up in Savannah with a trial lawyer", David says to her.

"It's lovely," Jennifer says slowly. "It's been so long since I've been in the Deep South, forgotten how beautiful it can be. Look at them, so easy, everyone's so easy. I miss that. People in the city, on the campaign trail, reporters and staffers alike, are too damn tight." Jennifer turns her back on David, "I need some fresh air," and walks out the door.

Friday, 9:30 PM Charleston, South Carolina
Reed Messer finds Jennifer sitting on a park bench staring out at Fort Sumter. "You know everyone's looking for you. Charleston's all a buzz now with the spirit."

"My works done for the day. It start's again at 6 am. But today, no more. Done."

"How do you do it? day-after-day?"

Jennifer takes a drag off her cigarette and looks out over the water. "How? I don't know any better. Plus, I can't stop now, not at this point....why?... that's more difficult. Some days I honestly don't know why, don't know why I smoke either. But deep down I know what we're doing matters, or at least it should matter, and it's my job to help Barack convince people that it does...it does matter. If we weren't doing this, then maybe nobody else would and that's my greatest fear that no one would. I couldn't live with myself seeing, knowing, that things aren't right, if I stood by and did nothing. That would haunt me, it would haunt the country. We've lived enough with ghosts, it's time to make a difference."

"I think you are."

Saturday, 5:00 AM
A baton clangs against the door and reverberates into the cell. "Bauer! Get up pussy. You got a call."

Bauer, deep in sleep, rolls from his bunk onto the floor, then stands warily looking at the guard, "I thought no calls in solitary."

"We may special exceptions for shitheads like you. Now, all I want to see is your ass and your elbows, moving down the hall. Now!"

Bauer is led through a series of hallways and into the wardens office, then told to sit. A moment later, the warden comes in, unshaven, tucking his shirt in his pants, looking like he hasn't had his morning coffee.

"Probably didn't see the news last night did you Jack being kooped up like you are in the hole. Your buddy Vincent says you're a sweet cunt, but that's not why you're here today. You got a call Bauer, but if I had any say in the matter, you'd still be in shithole."

The phone on the warden's desk buzzes, he picks it up, nods, then hands the phone to Jack, "You got 3 minutes. After that, I rip it outta the wall and you a new asshole."

The warden turns and leaves. Jack is alone in the office. He picks up the phone.

"Jack Bauer."

"JB! You dumb fuck. When are ever going to learn? Didn't I teach you anything? Don't be a smuck, play the odds. Drinking and driving, that's a losing hand. People could get hurt."

"Who is this?"

"Dick. Jack, it's the Dick. I'm here to help get you back in the mix."

"With all due respect Mr. Vice-President, the mix is what got me here."

"Different mix altogether son. Listen, we got a situation brewing, and I need, the President needs, the whole country needs, your help. Can you help us?"

"I'll do my best sir."

"I know you will son."

---------------------------------------
see also:
m.o.i.: 48 days, week 4
m.o.i.: 48 days, week 3
m.o.i.: 48 days, week 2
m.o.i.: 48 days, week 1
m.o.i.: Damn it! I just can't do this anymore.