Life Blogging (and a wee-bit of politics)
June 30, 2008 | 1 Comment
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m still around. Just busy. And parenting. But, lucky you, my daughter’s sick with strep-throat on the sofa so it’s an “inside” day for me and I’ve got a few minutes for words. Speaking of the child, I got one of those great rites of parenting again today while taking her to the doctor’s office. Yeah, you know the story: “Dad, I think I’m going to throw up.” And before I could empty the change jar and give it to her – whoosh – the front-seat of the truck was – well – watered. This too shall pass.
On other matters, the barn-straightening project led to the sawmill project – getting my logs milled into some fine rough timbers for the next phase of Operation Save-the-Barn. So far, so good.
Another fine local fella, Wayne Richardson, and his trusty partner in the portable sawmill business, Roy Richardson, arrived last week to get the process going. Wayne’s 81 years-old and still working daily with the not-so-small sawmill he tows behind his truck to various sites around the region to make lumber out of logs. It’s quite impressive.
I’ve been sitting on a large pile of saw logs for a couple of years, a nice mix of hemlock, spruce, fir and some very wide pine. All of it was drawn out with my trusty horse, Big Jim, with the occasional help from his former partner, Big John (R.I.P.). And, oh yeah, my “mentor,” Boots, was kicking around the woods with me from time to time, too. [The previous sentence was inserted so as to prevent a snarky response to this post. Trust me, it won’t work – but I tried.]
I love the smell, look and feel of fresh-milled wood. I especially like the big timbers, the 6×6’s and 8×8’s – and most of what’s being cut for me now are 6×6’s that will be used for posts for the barn and, I hope, the frame for a sauna. And most of these are being milled out of the big and heavy hemlock logs. Rot resistant, for sure. But heavy as all hell, too. For now, though, they’re just nicely stacked, drying, and teasing me with all the possibilities: have wood, will build.
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If I had the time for politics, I’d say this: Anthony Pollina has a lot of guts to venture into the realm of accusing Jim Douglas of making “false claims” about what he has and has not done. I’m speaking, of course, of the much-publicized Pollina press conference last week in which Vermont’s favorite loser cried foul over Douglas’ assertion that he helped create the local food movement. While I have no problem with the specific accusation, I’m going to – once again – fly the flag of hypocrisy over Camp Pollina.
If Pollina would like to make “false claims” a campaign issue, I’d suggest he duck and cover. There is, of course, that not-so-little issue of Pollina claiming to have “run” the Vermont Milk Company until, that is, the company stopped paying its farmers and the red ink out-massed the milk. At this point, Pollina conveniently changed his official campaign biography from “running” the company to merely “helping” some farmers get it going.
Yes, Anthony, let’s talk about “false claims,” and we could start with yours.
Lucky for Pollina that the Vermont media has decided to ignore his little biography-gate – for now. The word on the street is that some journalists are finally starting to poke around into the dismal financial story of the Vermont Milk Company. It shouldn’t be hard for them to figure out that Pollina’s wealthy donor friends are propping up this non-organic milk company so that it doesn’t completely shut its doors during the campaign. It also shouldn’t be hard for them to find out that the more viable food ventures in the Vermont Milk Company’s neighborhood – Hardwick – have been eying the failing milk company’s facility with the understanding that it will most certainly be available – oh – after November.
You heard it here first.
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Finally, to those who’ve inquired about why I didn’t attend last weekend’s Burlington Blogger BBQ, I only have this say: Because they make blogging look very unhealthy. ‘Nuf said.
Thanks Be to Friends
June 23, 2008 | 9 Comments
We interrupt the regularly scheduled snarkiness of this blog to bring you a tale of hope, talent, and accomplishment. Okay, okay, I’ll let that settle in for a moment.
It’s really quite “straight” forward. You see, we owned a leaning barn that desperately needed to be straightened, one that used to stand tall and proud just outside of the Worcester village. And, thanks to the neighborliness and friendliness of my immensely talented pal, Chris Eaton, we got it done. But let’s also be honest, the use of the “we” pronoun is quite presumptuous of me. Because, of course, I was mostly a “gofer” – and marveler – as Chris took on the Herculean task of running chains, cables and synthetic straps to various come-alongs and –viola! – torque that old heifer barn of ours right back to the upright and straight position. Amazing. All in a one good, long day’s worth of work.
This old heifer barn of ours was once the “little” addition to the monster barn that once graced the Ladd Farm, Worcester’s one-time pride of a farm that sits across the North Branch from the village itself. But, as we all know, the farm economy bit the dust and the farm began its decades-long decline into neglect. About ten years ago, thanks to previous owners, the neglected main barn was dismantled and – mostly – buried in what is now the back yard. What remained was the 20 x 50 heifer barn, a one-time “add-on” that now stood - or leaned — with the kind of tenacity that defied the logic of the engineering wisdom that certainly said: You will fall soon.
Ah, but Chris came to the rescue – just in time. And it’s not like “barn straightening” is on his resume, either. Nope. Sure, he’s a master carpenter and welder to boot, with more than a short stop caretaking – with his wife, Neha — for the Scott and Helen Nearing homestead in Maine. But barn-straightening? Nope. And that’s what’s fascinating to me: watching someone take on such an immense task with the kind of patience, perseverance and skill that would make you bet a whole hell of a lot of money on the fact that it was not his first time doing it. I guess that’s what they call “skill.”
To give you an idea of the task at hand, we started by attaching a nail to the top of the barn and then running a weighted-string down the side to determine just how much this old barn was leaning. According to the trusty tape measure, the barn was nearly 12 inches out of whack. Yep, the little weighted string dangled nearly a foot out of plumb. In other words, just a good storm – or draft horse scratch – away from becoming yet another giant pile of barn refuse.
But “we” attached the cables, hooked up the come-alongs, and gently ratcheted up the pressure as we heard the cracking and moaning of the barn. Disclaimer: This is the point in the project whereby I decided that my job should be to make sure the doors were open (a la “escape routes”), to “monitor” the dangling string (outside), and to otherwise pace with a palpable sense of nervousness that was otherwise no use to the “team.” Chris – being Chris – remained calm, convinced, of course, that a little forethought and a belief in a plan made more sense than my nervous ninniness.
The barn’s sway slowly began to abate – 10 inches, then 8, then 6, and then 4. Then the hardware gave way to the immense pressure of it all (Ha! Before me!). Specifically, one of the giant eyebolts attached to the top plate of the barn’s second story completely opened up and released the mighty pressure in one, big moment of “I quit.”
I thought we’d call it quits, too. Silly me. But Chris being Chris didn’t blink at the new challenge in front of us. “I know,” he said, “ I will…” I wish I could be more specific here. But, for all I know, he was speaking in the equivalent of carpenter-tongue, with words and phrases that I could almost make sense out of. You know something like: “We (oh-no, I thought, there goes that “we” thing again) need to weld plates…reattach the bolts…set the glue…correct the angle…and try it again.” Yeah, sure.
And that’s when Chris disappeared back to his shop and I took a nap, only to be awoken with his knock and his happy news that he’d welded the new pieces, already attached one of them, and – lo and behold – it looked like it was going to work.
“Great,” I replied, “want some coffee?” Nervousness and incompetence is always more tiring than accomplishment, you know.
But off we went with the new welded pieces, the new plan and the renewed creaking and torquing of the barn that seemed hell-bent on kissing the ground.
It all worked, of course. The barn’s lean was ultimately reduced to a mere couple of inches, cabled and secured into place. “We” did it! A barn was saved. An ever-so-small but yet important piece of Worcester’s heritage was given a new lease on life. As one of the few remaining old pieces of Worcester’s rural and farm heritage, it gets to stand – straight! – with the pride and reminder of perseverance. And, better yet (for me, at least), it gets to be filled with a thousand bales of hay to feed the horses that now call it home so that they can also call this farm their home.
Indeed, it was a good day. And I feel blessed. Thanks, Chris. One day, one barn straightened: You ‘da man.
The Dems Own the Wars (again)
June 19, 2008 | 1 Comment
This morning’s headline says it all: “Bipartisan Accord on War Funding Bill.” Did you get that? Yeah, the “bipartisan accord” thing. For those who haven’t had enough coffee yet today, that means that – once again – BOTH the Dems and the Republicans in Congress are agreeing to give the Bush-led military another $165 billion to continue to wage wars in Afghanistan and Iraq well into next year. Yes, next year, past the much-anticipated and hyped date of 1.20.09 when all the good Dems were “hoping” everything would be magically “Obamafied.” Good luck with that.
But there’s really nothing new here. The Dems have been going along with Bush and the Republicans on these wars from the beginning. They overwhelmingly voted to authorize the original force and they’ve fully funded them every single time the big, bad Bush has asked them to. Oh sure, they’ve whined, and squirmed, and begged, and stomped their feet from time to time but, in the end, they’ve always blinked in this little game of funding chicken with Bush.
What’s truly amazing is that even though the Dems keep funding these wars, they keep spewing the anti-war rhetoric. Worse, no matter how high these contradictions continue to pile up, the Dem cheerleaders keep drinking the almighty Kool-Aid and dreamily shaking their “change” and “hope” signs. Go team, go! Right. Over. The. Cliff. Well, when you act like fools, you’ll often be taken as one.
This new war funding bill will keep both wars financially greased until at least May of next year, thus handing Bush one hell of a stick to turn around and poke the Dems, the nation and the world right square in the eye. Impeach him? No, say the Dems, let’s just keeping feeding the beast and his beastly ideas even while he’ll be lounging in Crawford planning his silly little library (sorry, Mr. President, but My Pet Goat is already checked-out).
The Obama campaign was clearly a major player in ironing out this compromise, knowing that it would certainly be a campaign issue. Thus, it should give the antiwar/Obama crowd a reason to stop and reflect what they’re cheering for. Why, for example, would Obama and the Dems punt on the war issue? Worse, why would they agree to fund these wars through what they hope to be the first four months of an Obama administration? Looks like that “change” will be coming later than we thought – if at all.
But I’ll answer my own questions. There shouldn’t be any surprise about the Dems punting on the war issue (again) because that’s all they’ve been doing from the beginning. It’s apparently all they know how to do: huff and puff and then roll over for a belly scratch.
As for agreeing to fund the wars well into what they hope will be an Obama administration, it’s just the first of what will be many, many cave-ins and cop-outs. Wait, it’s not even the first, because this morning Obama announced that he was opting out of public financing for his presidential campaign. But, he noted, he really likes the idea of public financing. Hmm, I’m beginning to see a pattern: Hate the war but fund it, like public financing but reject its funding. And yes means no, right? Got it. Go team, go.
By agreeing to fund the wars for another year, the Obama camp will be able to continue to dodge any specifics on the war issue throughout the campaign. And even if he wins, he’ll have four months to claim that his hands are tied by the yearlong war-funding bill that this Dem-led Congress is about to pass. What a shame, because it also effectively kills any real grassroots potential that could have been harnessed by the stadiums full of screaming Obamacons that will certainly surface in the fall. But they can’t let the issues get in the way of the campaign. It might interrupt the cheering, the check signing and the hope. Oh, the hope!
Vermonters will be interested to know that Welch, Sanders and Leahy will most likely be voting against the war-funding compromise. They’ve clearly got visions of the riff-raff dancing in their offices again if they do anything but vote against it. Yes, indeed, direct action has an impact from time to time. But, before too many Vermonters pat themselves on the back for being oh-so-different, consider that none of the three will take any political risks to kill the bill. You know, things like filibusters, lobbying the leadership to stop the games, and/or the introduction of an alternative bill that would stop the funding now. It’s their party – and they’re staying for the dance.
Make no mistake, the Dems own the war. And forget 1.20.09. The best we can hope for now is 5.20.09.
Some Intimate Truths (or something like that…)
June 18, 2008 | 5 Comments
Oh hell, where were we? Oh yeah, now I remember: Nowhere. And fast. Welcome.
First, some personal news – only because I know you love the personal news. This little blog of mine is on pace to break the 15,000 visitor mark for the month. Yes, month. Not bad considering how lame I’ve been. Thanks to all those folks clicking in and not being too shy to ship me an email with one of those butt-kicking attachments that usually say something like: Give us words. So, words you shall have, mostly because my goddamn back is feeling tight from the use of my not-so-trusty carbon-neutral wood splitter (spare me the comments, Boots).
Speaking of carbon neutral, did you see that the campaigns of both Gaye Symington and Anthony Pollina have sponsored racecars? Give me a break. And Symington actually announced that she’s going to be donating money to those carbon-neutral hucksters out there who’ve convinced the moneyed ninnies that giving them money will somehow absolve them from their energy sins. Priceless. Hey, there’s a load of money in liberal guilt. You’ve just got to market yourself accordingly.
Here, I’ll try: Yo Gaye, you can send your next check to me and I promise to put your name on my carbon-neutral wood splitter. And, in return, you’ll get loads of “satisfaction,” a photo of me and the horse looking very, very appreciative (although the horse may be taking a dump) and a bumper sticker that you can add to your collection that says: “Sucker.” You know where to contact me.
Speaking of visitors (we were, weren’t we?), thanks to the fine folks at CounterPunch for sending loads of traffic. My friend. Jeffrey St. Clair, the co-editor there along with the equally amazing Alexander Cockburn, has always been gracious in their encouragement and willingness to feature my rants over the years. And, with each one, the traffic goes through the roof here – as do the personal comments, which range from “thanks” to “die, you asshole.” Ah, Joseph Pulitzer was right: journalists should have no friends.
But that’s all just a clumsy introduction to say: Buy Jeffrey’s new book, “Born Under a Bad Sky.” It’s St. Clair at his best: articulate, entertaining, illuminating and eye-opening. Or, if you’d rather, here’s what yours truly said about Jeffrey’s work on the back of this very book:
Who else can combine Rachel Carson’s wisdom, I.F. Stone’s erudition and Edward Abbey’s sass?
And I meant it, damn it. Read it.
And while we’re dispensing with the personal news here, let’s take a gander at the news Shay Totten of 7 Daze reported last week about my decision to abandon a campaign for governor. Well, not so fast, my friend. I made the decision based on the news that Gaye Symington was in the race, hoping that that would put an end to the nonsense that Anthony Pollina was going to mount a silly and hypocritical write-in campaign in the Democratic Party’s primary. But then the Pollina campaign dragged two Morrisville sycophants out of the woodwork to announce a few weeks ago that, indeed, they planned to continue the write-in campaign even though Dem/Gaye was in the race. It was clearly a non-story, except, of course, for the fact that the non-story members of the Vermont media made it a story, especially the giggling Kristin Carlson of WCAX, who made it her “top story” even though the “rally” she proclaimed it to be was little more than a few sycophants, Pollina, and his wife. Wow! With rallies like that, we could almost fill a hybrid.
My position as of this writing, which may change as soon as I find myself back in the woodlot in a few minutes, is that if Pollina keeps messing around with trying to despise the Democrats AND mount a write-in campaign in their primary, I will keep my campaign to challenge him in his own Progressive Party primary alive.
As for Shay’s prediction that there’s a run for Congress in my future, well, let’s just say that Shay must be connected with the Bush crowd who like to tap personal phone calls because I’ve been taking more than a few of those calls of late that encourage such a run. And they all go like this: “Welch is a phony. Run against him. Now.” We shall see….
Speaking of the media, I’m wondering when the Vermont media will come to life over the fact that Tony-the-Phony (Pollina, that is) changed his official website’s biography to delete the reference to his proclamation that he “ran” the Vermont Milk Company “until 2008.” For those of us keeping score at home, we know that this company has been tanking of late, has been behind on its payments to its farmers, and has been adrift in a sea of management incompetence. The Pollina response? Deny that he ever ran it. Yep, it’s true, Pollina actually changed his campaign biography after the company’s troubles became public, going from “running it” to just being “on the board.” And the Vermont media’s response: Nothing. Not a peep. On the positive side, I think I’ll take that as a sign for how seriously they’re taking his campaign. But on the negative side, I’ll say this: Shame on you.
Finally, on a sports note, congrats to the little-brat Celtics’ fans for a well-purchased championship. I hope you’re all happy with your high-priced product. Oh wait, I’m a New York Knicks fan. Skip that “high-priced” comment. And, instead, let’s try this: Paul Pierce is a drama-queen underachiever. What? One championship? Big deal, especially since he couldn’t get it done until the big brass brought in his mighty helpers known as Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen. Wimp.
The sports world has been making me feel young of late. First, there was the 45-year old Rocco Mediate’s 19-hole overtime challenge to Tiger Woods in the U.S. Open and then the news that the equally 45-year old Jamie Moyer’s great season pitching for the Philadelphia Phillies. Ha! The way I look at it is, you’re not really old until there are no sports heroes around who are older than you are. Thanks, Rocco and Jamie.
Speaking of age and sports, Jimmy Kimmel asked the best question of the political season to John McCain last night in his pre-game show. It was a question about the Rocco Mediate/Tiger Woods battle, with a not-so-veiled reference to McCain’s own battle with Obama. Said Kimmel:
So, who were you rooting for, the old white guy or the young black guy?
Priceless. Or, in the case of McCain’s response: wordless.
I’ve got more. But you’re not worthy. And I’ve got work to do.
Firewood Photoblogging
June 17, 2008 | 5 Comments
Busy days. Tired body. Empty mind. So, drink from this cup of photos, featuring the homemade wood wagon, my partners — Buddy and Jim, and my carbon-neutral splitter.
The Pollina Paradox: Opposing Symington/Endorsing Obama
June 12, 2008 | 3 Comments
Did you hear the one about Pollina endorsing Obama? Oh wait, that wasn’t a joke. Pollina was serious. Or should I say: calculating. And, once again, he’s hoping no one will notice his latest “do as I say, not as I do” moment.
But, first, it’s true: Anthony Pollina, the rather dusty stalwart of Vermont’s Progressive Party, put out a press statement a couple of weeks ago announcing his endorsement of Barack Obama for president. Hmm, let’s see, besides everything, what could be strange about Pollina, the “I’m no Democrat,” endorsing Obama, the Democrat?
Good grief, Pollina apparently has no shame. Because, as you may recall, Pollina is running for governor of Vermont as a decidedly non-Democrat against – yep – a Democrat, Gaye Symington, and a Republican, Jim Douglas. And it’s the same Pollina who also ran against Vermont’s last Democratic governor, Howard Dean, who now, interestingly enough, is Obama’s choice to continue running the entire national Democratic Party.
This is getting weird.
For those of us with a memory – or at least access to Google – we remember when Pollina was calling Dean and the Democrats a mere extension of the Republicans. And, I have to admit, it was the kind of rhetoric that made my heart go pitter-patter. But, because I was familiar with Pollina’s nonsense, I knew he didn’t mean it. And, of course, he doesn’t – and didn’t. Why else would he now be endorsing the Dean-led Democratic Party’s candidate for president?
Wait. Don’t answer that. Because I know the answer: Self-serving desperation. And therein lies the difference between truly inspiring third – and fourth and fifth – party challengers and the self-serving, ideologically-adrift retreads like Pollina.
But let’s back up. For non-comatose Vermonters, we know that Pollina is running for governor (again) under the banner of the Progressive Party, the folks who have sometimes, kind of, maybe (depending on the day and the circumstances) tried to make the case that Vermont needs a viable third party because the Democrats and Republicans are hopelessly and ruthlessly protecting a political status quo that isn’t serving the rest of us very well. Can you say “Iraq War,” “health care,” “global warming,” “alternative energy,” “economic justice,” “corporate oligarchy”? I knew you could.
But the problem with Pollina and the Progs is that they only spew that rhetoric – or even pretend to believe in it – when it appears to be politically convenient. And they’ll just as soon say that there’s no hope in getting anything substantive done within the Democratic Party before announcing that they’re either cutting a deal with Dems over which electoral races to sit out or, in the case of Pollina, endorsing a Dem for the highest of political offices: president. Go figure.
So, when it comes to their ever-changing opinions/relations with the Dems, Pollina and the Progs either don’t believe their own rhetoric, don’t understand that they’ve created a paper trail of opinions (and campaigns) that we can see, or they think their supporters are fools. Or, I guess, it could be all of the above.
How, for example, can Pollina run for governor against Democrat Gaye Symington, claiming “major differences” with her, and yet also endorse Obama for president? What, exactly, are the “major” policy differences between Symington and Obama? I don’t see any, as a matter of fact. Both, quite frankly, are liberal Democrats. Neither supports universal health care. Neither supported an immediate de-funding of the Iraq War. Neither supports a complete and total roll back of the trade policies that have so dramatically damaged working families. Neither supported impeachment of Bush. And both enjoy a ringside seat to the power elite game of inside politics, footsie with corporate lobbyists, and an absolute allegiance to “the party” with little regard for what that means for the people.
But yet Pollina – and other Progs like David Zuckerman – have now made it a point to cast Symington as the mortal enemy and Obama as the savior. It makes no sense. Unless, of course, you consider political expediency.
Pollina & Co. are hoping that voters and the Vermont media will forget all that rhetoric he spewed about Dean when he ran against him in 2000. Just as they’re hoping that people will forget about their on again/off again charges that the Dems are too snuggled with power to really get anything done. But they can’t have it both ways – blasting them one second and endorsing them the next.
The reason Pollina is constantly pulling the Obama card is obvious: he’s desperate. He’s willing to say “never mind” to his rhetoric of the last ten years in hopes that he’ll be able to get onto the Obama coattails in November. But someone needs to remind Pollina that he’s a member of the Progressive Party and Obama (and his opponent, Symington) are Democrats. Hey Anthony, may I introduce you to Ralph Nader? He’s great. He believes what you says. Fights for it, too. Try it sometime. That’s the point of “third parties,” you know.
Pollina knows that he probably won’t be made to feel embarrassed by his Obama endorsement. First, the sleepy Vermont media probably won’t figure out the oh-so obvious contradictions and, secondly, he knows that Obama won’t be bothered by a visit to Vermont – a visit that would certainly feature him with other Democrats like (ahem) Symington.
Poor Pollina. He’s seems really, really confused.
Peter Doing Bernie with Oil
June 11, 2008 | 1 Comment
Well, imitating Bernie, that is. On the oil issue.
I’m speaking, or course, about Congressman Peter Welch’s “telephone town meeting” last night on the oil crisis; a phone version of what Senator Bernie Sanders did a few months back on the Internet. The political formula for these little stunts is to give the people – you know, those non-millionaires amongst us – a chance to spill forth with our pain regarding the absurdly high price of oil. And then our elected millionaires can put on their best face of concern and voice of empathy and proceed to get gobs of headlines regarding their willingness to hear our stories.
But wait, there seems to be something missing here. Oh yeah, the action, as in: These people of wealth, power and high-elected office that seem so interested in our sob stories actually doing something about the oil crisis. There’s apparently no career safety in actually addressing these issues (it gets in the way of contributions and makes enemies amongst their ruling friends). But listening? That’s where it’s at, career wise.
And it’s all our fault, too. Because if we really wanted our elected officials to really care about us and address the issues that are putting a fatal pinch in our lives and livelihoods, we’d stop sending millionaires to represent us. I mean, come on, do you really think Peter-the-multi-millionaire can really feel our pain at the pump? Or even Bernie, for that matter, the man who has become one of the nation’s richest 5% during all that time he’s spent railing against them. I guess he’d call that his own brand of successful socialism – take from the government and give to himself.
The Vermont media buys these little political gimmicks like a giddy kid in a candy store. Take, for example, Josh O’Gorman of the Rutland Herald, who opened his fawning piece about Welch’s telephone conference call with a syrupy line about how the event joined “emerging technology with direct democracy.” Oh, come on – it was a friggin telephone conference call with our representative. Sorry, but I remember doing telephone conference calls 15 years ago.
And what’s this nonsense about “direct democracy”? Again, it was a conference call, whereby the people got to cry and Welch got to put on his most sincere sounding voice before returning to one of his dwellings and – I assure you – not having a nanosecond’s worth of anxiety about his energy bills. Remember, this is the guy who sends monthly checks to some hucksters who’ve convinced him that paying them will relieve him of his carbon guilt. Brilliant.
But if a telephone conference call can now be considered “direct democracy,” I would suggest that we’re in a lot more trouble than I thought. Or, should I say, enough trouble that the issue at hand – the oil crisis – doesn’t have an ice cube’s chance in hell of being solved. Besides, I always thought “direct democracy” had something to do with moving forward with decisions. You know, things like voting or taking other kinds of action. Yes, action, as opposed to mere listening and presenting crocodile tears.
Moreover, not one of the Vermont media’s lapdog-like pieces on Welch’s phone call with the masses dared to look back at the pieces they wrote last month on the congressman’s legislation regarding the oil crisis. The pieces wouldn’t have been hard to find. They were published across the front pages with headlines like “Welch Passes Bill That Provides Oil Price Relief.” Oh yeah? Well, way back then – in May! – Welch’s little gimmick to stop oil shipments to the national petroleum reserve was said by the congressman himself (and repeated by the cheerleading press) to lead to “immediate relief” at the pump. But everyone outside of the congressional and mainstream media clubs laughed at the proclamations – privately, of course, because no one called us for a comment.
And how did that “immediate relief” work out? The price of gas has risen by more than 20 cents a gallon since Welch’s bill was signed by President Bush. But you won’t read about this fact in Vermont’s mainstream media – they’re too busy touting Welch’s next gimmick.
The truth is, Welch, Sanders, Leahy and the Democrats have had two years of congressional control and they have done little but offer to “hear our pain” and do nothing about it. They heard us on our demands to stop the war. And they voted repeatedly to keep funding it. They heard our demands to bring the Bush regime to justice. And they served up worthless (and ignored!) subpoenas. They heard our demands for health care relief. And they did nothing. They heard our cries for energy solutions. And they asked us to put it in writing or participate in silly telephone conference calls.
Worse, with each of their failures, they blamed the big, bad boogeyman, President Bush. But when we offered the solution of impeachment, they said it would be a distraction. From what? Please, tell me what this Congress has done since they dispatched with the “distraction” of impeachment?
Enough already.
Hooky Time
June 9, 2008 | 5 Comments
Well, I guess if the summer switch has been flipped, it’s time to partake in the summer fun. And so it has been: biking, swimming, kayaking, swimming, hiking, swimming and a heaping helping of playing hooky. Ah yes, hooky.
We’ve got a peculiar little tradition in our household this time of year. You see, we’ve got a very outdoorsy ten-year old daughter. And the thought of making her go to school on ridiculously hot June days is more than either of us parental units can handle. I don’t know about you, but when I was a young lad in Georgia and Iowa, we didn’t go to school in June. Better yet, we didn’t start school in August, either. The months of June, July, and August were the three untouchable months, no school and all play.
I’m not sure what’s changed but those days seem to be long over – at least here in Vermont. Our daughter’s school – Doty Memorial in Worcester – starts in late August and doesn’t release them until June 20th (!) this year. Sorry, but that’s a crime against childhood.
I’m not sure what the modern school mentality is trying to achieve by keeping the kids locked up for longer and longer periods of time. If they’re trying to make them smarter, I’m not seeing the evidence of that. It’s also certainly not making them fitter since the kids now only have a little over eight weeks to totally and completely be kids. Been to a school function of late? Notice the girth? Well, damn it, let the kids be kids all summer instead of making them sit in steamy school buildings on gorgeous summer days like today.
So let’s get back to our little tradition. It goes like this: Our daughter gets three “Get Out of School Free” coupons that she can use in the month of June. And the rules are simple: If her mother or I can switch our work schedules around to accommodate some hooky, she can present her card and – viola! – it’s all play and no school for the day.
Well, coupon number one was played today. I knew it was coming when I noticed her listening intently to the weather while we were eating breakfast. All she really had to hear was “hot and humid” and out came the coupon. Rearrange my schedule? Sure. She did need a chaperone, you know? It’s my duty.
And so it was, a dad and daughter day of swimming, picnicking, trying to tire out the puppy and flinging our nose at the heat and the responsibilities that surrounded us. Ha! Take that, fate!
But we did learn at least one thing today: Our dog seems to be tuning out his genetic heritage as a Labrador retriever. Instead of retrieving sticks from the pond, he stands and watches them float from the shoreline – a characteristic I’ve never experienced in a lab. So my daughter decided that we should call him a “Labrador observer,” instead. Works for me.
Enough learning. We’ve got more play to do.
Welcome to summer, my friends – finally.
Vermont Media Watch, Part 1
June 6, 2008 | 2 Comments
My friend, Boots, tells me that I shouldn’t be paying attention to the media this time of year. It’s an unnecessary distraction to the “real work” that needs to get done. He’s right, of course. But I can’t help it. As soon as the Vermont chapter of Media Anonymous opens, I promise to be the first to sign up for the ten-step program to rid myself of the sheer ninniness of it all. “My name is Mike, and I am addicted to pop-news.” Please, can’t someone help me?
But, for now, I’m just stuck on yet another media bender – taking it in and annoying the hell out of everyone around me for repeating it as if it matters. Of course, it’s all the worse because I’m living in what has to be the most barren media environment in the U.S. Opening a Vermont newspaper – even the so-called “alternatives” – is like walking into an ice cream shop and seeing nothing but vanilla. Eat it. It’s all they’ve got.
The closeness and coziness between the anemic Vermont media and the power elite – you know, the elected officials, the business leaders and the moneyed few – is as close and cozy as it comes. That’s why they so often – and seamlessly – shift roles. One day, for example, Anson Tebbits is reporting on the state for television and radio stations and the next day he’s working for the state — and yet still on the radio and television. Similarly, one day Chris Graff is leading Vermont’s Associated Press and the next day he’s the vice president of communications for National Life – and yet still in the news talking politics.
And those are just two examples of the many, many switcheroos that Vermont journalists of late have made, going from reporting on the state and business to working for the state and business (and sometimes switching again).
There’s a simple formula for “succeeding” in the little club known as Vermont journalism: Don’t rock the boat. Sadly, for those of us with quaint memories of a press corps that acted like watchdogs – not lapdogs – this means little, if any, investigation. It means mere press releases from Sanders, Leahy, Welch, Douglas, National Life, GE, General Dynamics and IBM, etc. become instant “news.” Print ‘em. Don’t research ‘em. Don’t ask questions about ‘em. Just print ‘em and then enjoy the friendly handshakes and job offers down the road.
And with no one in the media willing to launch serious investigative pieces or dig deeper than the cheerleading-like content of the press releases they’re fed daily, Vermont remains stuck in a self-fulfilling prophesy that leads us to no where other than the same re-election celebrations for the same old politicians.
Take Congressman Peter Welch, for example. There’s much talk now about how this first-term congressman may not be facing a “credible” (read: media anointed player) opponent. And while Welch and the Dems are telling themselves that this is all because he’s done such a “great job” and the “Republicans are a mess,” the bigger reason is that it’s really hard to challenge an incumbent politician in Vermont while the media acts more like their press secretary than a watchdog.
Welch’s people have been glad-handing the Vermont press of late with the happy little stories about how “successful” he’s been in his first term. And the Vermont press has been dutifully purring at his ankles by regurgitating the planted “success” stories nearly verbatim to how they’re delivered. Welch, for example, points to his coziness with the House leadership – especially Pelosi. And the Vermont media reprints it, without questions about what he’s traded away for that coziness or what the drawbacks might be (ahem, for example, his early agreement to side with Pelosi and vote to fund the war).
Similarly, the Vermont media slobbered all over themselves when covering Welch’s bill to stop oil shipments to the nation’s petroleum reserve. For days, we were serenaded with stories about Welch’s “effectiveness” and his ability to “address” the oil crisis. We even got quote after quote from Welch declaring that the passage of his bill would lead to an “immediate” drop in gas prices.
It was bad enough that the media largely ignored the voices of those who – at the time it was going down — declared the whole thing a political stunt. The shipments to the oil reserve, they correctly declared, had nothing to do with today’s skyrocketing gas prices. The Vermont media, however, couldn’t let those facts get in the way of their “Welch is effective” meme.
But it’s even worse now that those same members of the media haven’t revisited the story to see that the price of gas did not drop as Welch declared it would. It has, in fact, gone up. Please, don’t hold your breath for the headline that declares, “Welch Energy Bill Did Nothing.” Because Welch isn’t putting out that press release and, worse, the Vermont media isn’t bothering to investigate it.
The same thing could be said of Welch and the Iraq War. This was, as you’ll recall from his campaign two years ago, his “number one issue.” Well, how did that work out? Other than funding it before getting extreme heat from his constituents, Welch has done little on the war other than ignoring it of late. And the Vermont media plays along, penning articles about his “successful” first term without even mentioning the war.
How, exactly, can Welch’s first term be considered a “success” when he’s failed so miserably on the war issue? I can hear the good Dems out there answering that question this way: What’s one congressman supposed to do about the war? Well, that “one congressman” ran an entire campaign based on his number one priority being to stop the war. And he failed. Or, if you’d rather, he lied to us in 2006 about his commitment and abilities to “stop this war.”
Funny, isn’t it, that while the Dems are laughing at what a mess the Republicans are in because they can’t find a credible opponent to Welch, the Republicans are laughing at the Dems for not being able to find a credible opponent to Lieutenant Governor Brian Dubie? But the reason neither one is facing any real re-election opposition has nothing to do with their parties. It has everything to do with the fact that Incumbents are King (or queen, Ms. Markowitz) in Vermont.
And all they have to do is thank those purring reporters at their feet for their seemingly lifetime jobs. Each knows where their bread is buttered. Eat up.
Obama & My Garden: Willed Oblivion
June 4, 2008 | 2 Comments
I tried to listen to Obama last night. I sat down with my ear to the radio and more than a feint desire to share in the hope. I figured it was time to stop walking by the party that was going on and, instead, step inside and see what all the buzz was about. So, in I walked, thanks to the static hum from National Public Radio.
It had been a long day spent outside, mostly in the garden. The forecast of steady intervals of rain translated to a personal agenda of getting the rest of the plants and seeds in the ground. And so it happened – tomatoes, peppers, brussel sprouts, cukes, summer squash and one obnoxious zucchini plant all found their final resting place in our ever-expanding garden universe.
The garden put hope in my mind. Face it, there’s nothing more hopeful than putting delicate, greenhouse-raised seedlings into the jungle of the outdoors. Well, other than the hope that we’ll be able to battle the weeds and insects in the long journey toward the point of consumption. Indeed, it’s hard to be a pessimist at the outset of gardening season.
My garden mind, however, is in constant combat with my political mind. It’s an ugly battle, with no compromise offered by either side and a kind of endurance that makes the Hillary/Obama clash seem like the child’s play that it is – or was. I bring the two minds together by rather dopily totting around a radio – tuned to news and talk — in my garden. Ah, let the cymbals collide!
And so it goes, my moments swing wildly from the lightness of securing my freshly harvested maple saplings into the tee-pee structures that will host my coveted Kentucky Wonder beans to the heaviness of hearing one pundit or newscasters after another tell me something inane about our political world (“Hillary really wanted to win” or “McCain spoke in front of an ugly green background.”).
But the worlds also collided while simply making a quick trip to the nursery for the missing plant in my gardening arsenal: cherry tomatoes (“Sweet 100s,” to be precise). The man on duty seemed genuinely sorry that the Sweet 100s were out of stock.
“Everyone’s gardening this year,” he told me. “You wouldn’t believe how this economy is driving people to grow their own food this year. We can barely keep seedlings in stock.”
The collision had just begun, as he continued talking about energy prices, his search for firewood and some of the gut-wrenching experiences he had last winter while selling kerosene to heating-assistance recipients in the area.
“We’re right down the road from the office that hands out the $75 checks for emergency heating relief,” he told me. “And it’s hard – real hard – to watch these women come in here and tell me how little heat $75 worth of kerosene will get them and their families. One woman was literally crying when I stopped filling her containers, pointing to her two kids in the car and telling me how they’re already wearing coats to bed. I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like next winter.”
So much for the Sweet 100s. Hope met reality. Let the cymbals crash – again.
And so I went, with other seedlings and a shot of reality I didn’t really ask for, back to my little garden of hope and willed oblivion. Ah, hello young plant life, I declared at the gates of the garden, let’s turn off the radio for the afternoon and enjoy each other’s company.
Until nightfall. Until the mental note from the morning’s kaleidoscope of news reminded me that it was going to be the night when the race of all presidential primary races would come to an end. It was going to be the night that South Dakota and Montana mattered. Not because anyone was going to try and remember that Pierre and Helena are their capitals, but because they would be marking an end to the Sartre-like primary season that seemingly had no end and – worse – little meaning. Is this what he meant by “Being & Nothingness”?
Click went the radio. To the “on” position, that is, in order to continue to try and push my rock of hope up the steep hill of reality. Everyone else seems to be hopeful about the guy, why can’t I? I’ll take what they’re drinking, please.
And it seemed like a wise decision at first. The announcer set the scene for me. He didn’t need to tell me that the crowd was cheering wildly – that much was apparent through the radio. But it was nice that he informed me that the crowd was filled with placards declaring that Obama was the “change we can believe in.” Cool. I’ll drink (to) that, even though it sounded a lot like what progressive-minded people chanted for Bill Clinton in 1992 (and we know how that turned out – hint: notice we’re still talking about the same issues?).
I listened. No, make that: I listened hopefully. I wanted to go to sleep with the kind of light-headed happiness that I was hearing from the crowd that cheered Obama wildly in that Minnesota night.
For several minutes I felt the hope. I really did. I heard the cheers. I was told about the scene in which Barack and his “purple-dressed” wife, Michelle, took the stage (and how they kissed). I heard Obama’s many messages of thanks. And I felt the lightness of believing in it all.
But then that bastard reality side of me kicked in. And it asked: What are you believing in? Hah! That’s easy, I told my bastard side, I’m believing in hope and the “change we can believe in.”
I was in the political garden of hope and willed oblivion, where doubt and critical thinking are dispensed with like quack grass. I was in the middle of my day’s last collision, where I wanted to believe in the hope and the change but there was no meaning behind the words accompanying the mood. It was euphoria without meaning. It was faith without action. It was hype without substance. And it was hope without reality.
Then I remembered the chuckle I got when I opened the mail earlier in the day. It came from a letter I got from the IRS – you know, the same one we all get when our tax rebates are tantalizingly close to arriving. But under the headline of “What You Need To Do,” the IRS told me this: “You do not need to do anything.” Hey, thanks for writing!
Ah, of course, that’s also the underlying message of Obama’s hope charade: You do not need to do anything. Just hope. And cheer. And wish. It’s the American Way, damn it.
Sorry, but I’ll keep my hope in the garden.
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