Kamala Harris-I Got it Wrong and I Apologize

Kamala Harris spells out the future. Photo courtesy of Chicago Tribune

It was almost exactly one year ago. Pre-COVID, Pre-Amy Coney Barrett. Pre-IT WAS RIGGED (not.)

The battle for the presidential nomination of the Democrat Party was in full swing and in honor of an upcoming candidate debate I posted a clever little verse called The Primary Shuffle. Aping the rhyme and rhythm of The Superbowl Shuffle (will we ever get beyond the 85 Bears?) it presented the candidates in all their glory. I highly recommend it!

Poll leaders Elizabeth Warren, Joe Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Pete Buttigieg each earned individual stanzas. The rest of the pack–the followers–were jammed into two densely packed verses. No one had much hope for those runner-up type candidates, the Amys, the Mikes, the Corys, and the Camillas.

Hold on, wait, time out!! Camilla? Why did I include Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, the royal partner of someday maybe King of England Prince Charles? Was she even eligible to run for president? I am sure Donald Trump would have had a field day asking for a birth certificate to prove she was American born.

But no–the Camilla I was referring to in that long-ago post was KAMALA Harris, who at that time was Senator from California and is currently, while still a Senator, the Vice-President Elect of the United States of America.

Yup-I blew it with the name. I didn’t do enough fact-checking. And my failsafe Grammarly spell-check didn’t recognize the error (probably because I didn’t include Ms. Harris’s last name.) And not a single reader notified me of my mistake. I had buried Camilla (sic) and her slim chance to win the nomination so far down in the rap that most likely no one read that far!

So my apologies Kamala. In the last year, you have demonstrated resilience and grace. We have forgiven you for being a little rough on Good-Ole Joe in some of the earlier debates. We have danced and sang in the streets to celebrate your landslide (306) victory. You are a role-model, a glass-ceiling smasher, and a highway to the future.

But it is too bad you will never get to be the Queen of England!

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‘Twas Two Days After Polling

‘Twas two days after polling, and all through the US
The country was waiting, an election to bless;
The ballots were endless and counting was slow,
With hopes for a victor before there was snow;
The pundits both writing or those talking heads;
Repeating over and over what the others had said;
My wife in the kitchen, my daughter on the phone,
Were both getting weary from all this unknown,
The President had claimed on the very first night,
That he was the winner, but that was not right.
Even Fox News wasn’t quite that hardy,
Advising he wait before a celebration party.
The pollsters were saying they hadn’t quite blown it,
But they weren’t really sure, if only we’d known it.

Now the headlines are saying there are six more states,
Upon whose numbers the result still awaits,
“Now, Nevada! now, Alaska! now North Carolina!
On, ‘Zona! on, Georgia! on, Pennasylvina!
Give us some results, we all need to hear!
We hope when you’re done it will all be so clear!”
Then the lawsuits will come and accusations will fly,
With more fireworks than the 4th of July;
So up to the Supremes the challenges may go
And we will see how the Court feels about Joe.
Or if for the Donald their loyalties lie
And a judgement for him they decide to apply.
It’s a crazy old system we have in this land,
To try to determine who gets to command.
The millions of dollars on attack TV ads,
Just make us feel angry and the candidates look bad.
Hope we figure it out before New Year’s Eve,
Then we can happily watch two-oh-two-oh leave;

Or by the time that you read this, results all may be here.
And I will end this poem on a note of good cheer.
Keep your head up, keep a smile in your eyes.
Whoever it is, who wins the big prize!

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The Car Wreck That Was Last Tuesday’s Debate

The debate was like a two care pileup of aging vehicles.

I have been conflicted.

Should I post about last Tuesday’s debate between President Trump and Vice-President Biden, or should I let more informed and more politically savvy writers carry the load? Barb was surprised that I didn’t have my two cents in print yesterday, and I am still not sure what I can say today.

Barb and I sat in our comfy chairs Tuesday night, the cat on the ottoman in between, watching our habitual news station, NBC. Not CNBC or MSNBC, just plain old NBC. We watched every minute, absolutely incredulous. We weren’t silent, but we managed to keep our outbursts to a minimum. I hurled out one “Asshole” at Trump’s “Pocahontas” reference, but other than that, I pretty much sat there taking it.

And when the hallucinatory experience was over, when the talking heads at the debate podia were replaced by the shaking, visibly shaken, heads at NBC Studio, I realized that I was drenched in sweat, as soaked as if I had run a 10K rather than sitting in my own home office. My body had responded — in fear, in anger, in frustration, even as my brain tried to process what we had just watched.

I feel like I have been in a humongous gaper’s block. America drives by the accident slowly, turning our collective heads to stare at the two-car wreckage in the other lane; one of the involved drivers calmly talking on his cell phone while the other screams at the highway patrol officer, gesticulating wildly, foam coming from his mouth.

Two days later I don’t feel much better. My Facebook account is filled with “Riden’ with Biden” messages, but I still have a couple of Trump loyalists on my Friends list. I keep them around to see what poison is being posted in the effort to Keep America Great. I no longer respond–what would be the point?–but I fact check their claims, just to make sure I am looking at both sides. And then I realize that for someone with my values, there is only one side.

So get out the tow trucks. Get this wreck off the road. And go out and vote. Because this really matters.

photo credit: george.bremer I’m sensing a theme here… via photopin (license)

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Biden and Sanders Serenade

To the tune of Frere Jacques, with apologies to Allan Sherman

Joe Biden:

Bernie Sanders, Bernie Sanders
How are you? How are you?
Your numbers are all fading
Your chances are degrading
What to do? What to do?

Bernie Sanders:

Joseph Biden, Joseph Biden
What’s with you? What’s with you?
You romped in Illinois there.
The Jew lost to the goy there.
Nothing new. Nothing new.

Joe Biden:

Bernie Sanders, Bernie Sanders
Here’s a clue, here’s a clue.
It’s time for you to drop out
Your chances are on lockout
Your fans too few, your fans too few

Bernie Sanders:

Joseph Biden, Joseph Biden
I’ll pursue, I’ll pursue
My fight for nomination
For the country’s highest station
Until I’m blue, until I’m blue.

Joe Biden:

Bernie Sanders, Bernie Sanders
Tell me true, tell me true.
What do I have to do here?
For you to make support clear.
And join my queue, join my queue.

Bernie Sanders:

Joseph Biden, Joseph Biden
Here me through, here me through
To win all of my voters
Be a socialist promoter
That’s what to do, what to do.

Joe Biden:

Bernie Sanders, Bernie Sanders
I won’t be cruel, won’t be cruel.
No college day’s tuition
For those who get admission
To a school, to a school.

Bernie Sanders:

Joseph Biden, Joseph Biden
That’s no miscue, no miscue.
Now get them all some healthcare
And end this virus nightmare
That’s my view, that’s my view.

Joe Biden:

Bernie Sanders, Bernie Sanders
I’ll say anew, say anew.
The thing we’ve got to do, Bern
Is limit Trump to one term.
Tell him adieu, tell him adieu

Bernie Sanders:

Joseph Biden, Joseph Biden
I’m with you, I’m with you
With Amy or Kamala
You’ve got to beat that fella
He’s no Nehru, no Nehru

Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders together:

Joseph Biden, Bernie Sanders
Here’s to you. Here’s to you.
If we can work together
We’ll beat this stormy weather
And Trump too, and Trump too.

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Joe Biden, I Feel Your Pain. I Get Tongue Tied Too!

The dust may be starting to settle. Potential candidates are dropping like flies, and only the two old white guys remain. The ladies-gone. The minorities-gone. The LGBTQ-gone. Any mixture of the above-gone.

So I have to consider my options. Do I like the shouting grampa or the bumbling grampa? If both are still sticking around (and I assume they will be) when the Illinois Democratic primary rolls around, which way will I lean?

Sorry, Bernie–you won’t be getting my vote. It’s not only that I don’t like your politics, and that I think you would be a disaster in the November election; for yourself, for the party, and for the country. And it isn’t only that I am a moderate-centrist who believes that incremental actions can lead to real change. Besides all that, I’ll vote for Biden because Joe, I feel your pain!

No, not the pain you have felt from the terrible tragedies of losing Neilia, Naomi, and Beau (though I have lost a sister, and have at least a glimmer of an understanding.) What you and I share is the marked tendency to put our foot, or sometimes both feet, into our respective mouths and just say the darndest thing.

Your sentences are often meandering, your nonsequiturs can be conversation stopping, and your mix-ups downright confounding. But I know just how you feel. So many times I open my mouth, and the words that tumble out just don’t match the ideas circling in my brain. I’m not sure if it is because I am speaking too quickly, or because I am thinking thought #12 while still enunciating thought #10. Maybe I lose my concentration just as I am about to make a grandiose statement.

But sometimes even I am amazed by the things I say. You know how Joe B. mixed up his wife with his sister while introducing them at his victory rally in California on Super Tuesday? Well, when I tell a story I may confuse my daughter with my daughter-in-law, my grandkids with my nephews, or my neighbors with their pets (is Boomer the woman across the street or is it her dog or are neither named Boomer?) Yes, I can even confuse myself.

I have seen the look of horror on Barb’s face as she steps in to correct some of my verbal gaffes. I have seen the puzzled look on my kid’s faces as they try to decipher a story I am telling about “your mother’s cousin’s grandson’s second cousin.” Sleepy Joe could not have confused it better.

I don’t share a stuttering issue with Joe, but I have been known to mumble a bit. The result is the same, a failure to communicate. It can certainly be “flustrating.”

So Joe, you weren’t my first choice for the Democratic nomination, but now I am publicly throwing my support your way–to you, to moderation, and to success. Neither of us may be able to say it, but as long as I can type it, it should come out clearly!

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