Category Archives: Elections

Good news: Ralph Norman lost. Bad news: Darline Graham won

OK, I know that’s kind of a bummer headline, so note that I also shared with you the evening’s best news: Red Sox win! Again!

And it’s all summarized there neatly on my lockscreen.

(I can’t praise the NYT enough for their coverage of S.C. elections, which beats all South Carolina media hollow. Sure, it’s just the bare bones, but it’s better and more timely than I’m getting from anyone locally. They’re showing what CAN be done with the Web….

(Not that the Web is perfect. The Sox won that game 7-3, so what you see there is incorrectly labeled “final.” Artificial Imperfection.)*

I’m not complaining about the runoff outcome; I did what little I could to achieve that result. My complaint is that this is as good an outcome that we could hope for, given where we started with the original full field in this primary.

Which turns us to November.

A couple of days back, my friend who put the Annie sign in my yard (just days before I took it down when Lindsey suddenly died) called me to ask whether I’d put it back up.

Well, no. That doesn’t mean that I won’t vote for “Annie.” But there’s a difference, for me, between settling for someone on Election Day and supporting that person with sufficient enthusiasm that I’ll put a sign in my yard.

And frankly, I haven’t even started to evaluate Dr. Anderson. I mean Andrews. See, I don’t even write her name correctly yet without thinking for a moment. (By the way, do not type “Annie Anderson” thinking you will find the website of a Senate candidate. Seriously.)

In the days ahead, I’ll be absorbing what I can find about each of these candidates. I expect to learn new things about Darline Graham now that she no longer has to out-crazy a bunch of lunatics in a Republican primary. She won’t have to worry about that again for six years. She’s got room to write other things on her blank slate.

The only relevant thing we’ve learned so far is that she doesn’t know anything about foreign affairs. But did anybody think she did? She’s the proverbial random-person-grabbed-off-the-street. And if you don’t know what I mean, go find some video of those street interviews David Letterman used to do. (Or was it Leno or one of those other late-night guys?)

And the question it causes me to ask is, does anyone assume that Dr. Andrews (I’m making myself practice that last name) is some kind of Lowcountry Henry Kissinger? Or should I say, to make Democrats out there happier, Dean Rusk? Or Sam Nunn, for that matter.

I sincerely doubt it. But I’ll look into it.

Alas, I can’t sit them down for 90-minute endorsement interviews, which would give me far better understanding than I can get through listening to the nonsense their campaigns are pumping out.

But I’ll make do, and share what I find. Force me to guess, and I’ll guess I’ll be choosing the pediatrician. That’s just based on what little I know so far — which is very little. I’m going to give them both every opportunity to surprise me. Who knows? Maybe I’ll decide to put that sign out. Who knows? I don’t. Not yet.

Oh, yeah. I need to do that today too, don’t I?

I didn’t even have a chance to forget that awful runoff today. I went to my allergist for a shot, and as I was leaving… there was Henry. Also waiting for a shot.

I stopped to say hi, and noticing he was wracking his brain, I said my name and took off my ball cap. That gave him the excuse to say, “I didn’t know you with the cap!” I like to give people a graceful way out like that. Anyway, we hadn’t seen each other since just before one of the debates in 2018. He’s gotten older and lost weight. So have I. (It’s that season, when I shed 20-plus pounds to fit into my short cargo pants. All my fat cargos are long.)

He told his plainclothes bodyguard, who was standing next to his chair with his back against the wall, “This is a big newspaperman!” I added, “Used to be…”

Seeing his lapel sticker (“I Voted! Did You?”), I told him I was about to. I almost said, “I plan to vote for your girl,” just because this is a situation when I could actually say that honestly, but I held back. No need to ask him who he voted for, unless he changed his mind since yesterday.

He mentioned that there was no line to vote, I said I assumed it would be that way at my place, too, and wasn’t it a shame for people to be so uninterested in voting.

That’s it. I just thought I should report the contact. I’ll comment further on today’s voting in a separate post…

It should be a bit better tomorrow…

Me, feigning optimism after voting. Oh, and I just checked, and my thumb isn’t actually as long as the looks. Must be lens distortion or something.

No, “it” does not refer to the nation, or the U.S. Senate, or South Carolina, or the planet. Or the Red Sox’ record (After that amazing, record-setting month, they’ve lost the last three games to teams who absolutely should NOT be beating them. But enough about that. I’m trying not to think about it.)

“It” just means my text queue. See the image below. I took that screenshot of my phone this morning. Every single text you see there is on behalf of someone running for Lindsey’s seat the U.S. Senate. One of them is Democrat Annie Andrews;, the rest are in the GOP primary today.

it won’t be all better tomorrow, just a bit. Maybe. My fear is that all the contributors to the people who lose today will start giving to the two who make it into the runoff, and i’ll still get as many texts. But I try to imagine better times to keep my hopes up.

Anyway, are you out voting today? I voted. Did what I said I would. Not proud about it, but it was the only thing I could think of to minimize the damage.

When I was there preparing to vote around 11 this morning, I was the only person voting, but four or five people were in other stages — signing in, turning in their ballots, etc. In the few seconds it took me to tick that one name, about five more came in and got in line.

So I saw no sign of a mob. If you voted, how did it go where you were? My only complication was that our polling place was moved to Mt. Hebron United Methodist Church, which is a couple of blocks from where we once lived, and practically across the street from the elementary school that most of my kids attended (which has been torn down now, alas).

I’ll let y’all know how the Red Sox come out tonight. Maybe you don’t care, but I do. And the chances for happiness are much better there than in S.C. politics at the moment…

 

Last-minute scraps of wretched nonsense

I’ve mentioned the awful set of choices being laid before us in this hasty primary to replace the late Lindsey Graham on the November ballot.

Ever since I wrote and posted that, the offal of various varieties has been raining down upon us. How about those foolish scraps of mail on top above, especially the one trying to tell us that this woman filling her dead brother’s seat is one of those nasty libs that certain people love to hate so much.

You know, Darline Graham, Trump’s annointed.

There are no good choices tomorrow. So I think I’m going to vote for the least bad, Mark Sanford. He was an outlier in the Republican Party before Trump, but he looks almost normal now. He’s a flake and a misfit and has awful judgment, but the alternatives are worse.

I mean, the alternatives that have a chance of at least getting into the runoff. I had thought about voting. I thought about voting for one of the other five or six, but I just don’t know enough about any of them to possess any certainty that they aren’t worse than the rest. I’m not saying they are, I’m just saying I have no justification for saying they aren’t. For that reason, I don’t vote for people I know nothing about.

And none of them can get into the runoff. And we need some who has a chance of taking the place of one of the worst ones in said runoff. I had been wavering on the Sanford ploy, because it’s so distasteful, until I spoke with a smart friend after Mass last night, and she just assumed the runoff would be between Lindsey’s sister and Ralph Norman.

That was a sufficiently appalling notion that I’m going with Mark, because he has a chance of keeping Norman out of it.

It’s a desperate situation. I’m not happy taking desperate measures, but what is the alternative?

Some of you Democrats out there may answer, “Just skip tomorrow, and wait and vote for Annie Andrews in the fall.”

Yeah, right. Sure, the Democratic nominee may have more of a chance now than she had before Lindsey died. But that’s not saying much.

As I read it, barring something unforeseen at this point, the Republican nominee is going to be our new senator. So the time to try to minimize the damage — to South Carolina, the nation, and the world — is now…

This depressing special primary

Screenshot

Last night, my uncle asked me if he had to vote today. He was worried that he did,, because he didn’t know of anyone running in the special GOP primary to replace Lindsey Graham on the November ballot that he could possibly vote for.

He made me panic for a moment. I was pretty sure the primary wasn’t today, but two things caused me to be uncertain: I’ve been busy lately, and I really, really didn’t want to think about this primary anyway. The options on offer are too depressing. Anyway, I checked, and no, it’s next Tuesday.

But I suppose that means I need to write something about it now. The fact that I’m writing far less about politics now doesn’t mean I ignore it completely.

When we were last on this subject, I had just taken down my “Annie” sign because Lindsey had just died, suddenly and rather shockingly. I took it down as respect for the dead (I don’t know if that’s an established custom, but perhaps it should be). I’d like to say I also did so because I had high hopes for what the special primary might come up with, but of course, I can’t. It’s more that I had only put the sign up because a) she was the only alternative to the sad disaster that Lindsey Graham had become, and b) my neighbor who had put up a sign I gave him in the last general election had given me this sign. In fact, he put it up (after asking my permission), and I just left it. I lack enthusiasm for Dr. Andrews, which I can address separately after this unpromising current exercise is over.

In the meantime, I wish I could say something more positive than “I lack enthusiasm” about one of these candidates in the special primary. But I can’t. Maybe some miracle will happen between now and next Tuesday. It it does, I’ll say something about it.

The saddest thing I can say about this crew is that among those I know (and I only vote for people I know something about, unlike so many), the one who comes closest to being a reasonable person is Mark Sanford. Yes, that’s how bad it is. If you don’t know what I mean, look at what I’ve written about him over the years. You’ll see that at first I liked him, but then was soon appalled, and kind of stuck with that. But then, he was appalling by pre-Trump standards. And as you know, if we could resurrect Richard Nixon and put him in the White House in place of what we’ve got, I’d be a pretty happy camper.

So let’s start with him and run down the rest of the list. I’ll say less about those I know less about:

  1. Mark Sanford. What he’s offering is pretty much what he’s always offered. The best thing I can say about him is that he is not a Trumpista. And that’s important. Beyond that… well, he brags about being a budget-cutter. He brags (in one of the many texts I’ve received) that as governor, he “balanced 8 state budgets.” No, he didn’t. The Legislature did. The state constitution requires that the state budet be balanced, every year, and that would have happened no matter who the gov was. What he did do, one year, was put on a childish display by vetoing the entire budget. It was the most grossly irresponsible thing I’d seen a chief executive do until Trump came along. The grownups in the Legislature fixed it, of course, as Sanford knew they would (which to me makes it worse, not better — he was leaving it up to the people who actually cared about the job, rather than pulling stunts). Folks, this guy is THE most extreme libertarian I have every encountered. Most libertarians don’t like paying taxes to support government. This guy didn’t want any money spent on government, even if the money fell from the sky. In 2009, with our economy a shambles, he tried to refuse $700 million in federal stimulus funds (that was going to be spent anyway, somewhere), simply on the principle that he didn’t want SC to have any more money to spend on government services. That time, the state Supreme Court stepped in as the grownup. Hey, if you like that stuff, go ahead and vote for him. But if he’s elected, you might want to put a bell on him, in case he wanders off again.
  2. Darline Graham. I was happy to accept her as her brother’s interim replacement for a few months. I didn’t think about beyond that. If I had, I would have said this was her chance to define herself for voters. Unfortunately, she is using this opportunity to define herself in terms of what her brother became after 2016, not what he was before. On the good side, she does proudly mention on her website her experiences serving in state government leadership roles. But that’s not her headline. Her big, bold headline is “Proudly Endorsed By President Trump.” Most voters are doing well if they know even one thing about a candidate, so that’s the one thing she wants them to know definitely. If she wins the primary, maybe she’ll drop that garbage and offer herself as a serious alternative to the Democratic nominee. But that remains to be seen.
  3. Ralph Norman. Remember when, early this year, I acknowledged an ad of his as a nominee for worst political ad for 2026 so far? The ad brought up so many depressing thoughts that I took the post down right after I put it up. I just didn’t want to bring up such things, much less discuss them on a blog. Unfortunately, there was a comment or two before I could take it down, so I decided I had to put it back up. I cursed my luck. I just wanted to get back to writing about more pleasant things. Well, now I can tell you that nothing Norman did or said after that caused him to rise in my estimation. This was not a surprise. I’d known about Norman from well before he insulted us by running for governor. Here’s something from 2023. If you want to go see if you can find something positive about him, here’s his website.
  4. Russell Fry. He’s technically a member of Congress (representing a district that didn’t even exist when I was at the paper, and I can’t name his predecessors either), but beyond that, if you mentioned his name to me before this, it might have sounded familiar, but I would have guessed he was a backbencher in the Legislature. In other words, I knew nothing about him until he ran for this. And everything I’ve seen since then tells me he’s trying to outRalphNorman Ralph Norman. Here’s his website.
  5. Duke Buckner. All I know is that I saw a picture, and aside from being a pleasant-looking fellow, I notice he’s black. Although it might be cool — in a weird, ironic, misleading way — for both of our U.S. senators to be black Republicans, it wouldn’t be cool enough to vote for him unless I know a lot more. Preferably something having nothing to do with Identity Politics. Here’s his website. One good thing I see is that he doesn’t mention Trump on the main page. That’s something…
  6. Samuel Sam Shepherd. I don’t know why his name is on the ballot like that. Maybe he doesn’t want you to think he’s this guy. Not that I would have. Here’s his website… No, wait — I couldn’t find one in a brief search. Here’s a TV news story. And here’s a Facebook page. Let me know if y’all find a website.
  7. Danny Ford II. I don’t see a website for him, either (but maybe I’m not looking for it correctly). Here’s his Facebook page. I see that he is a farmer, that his father had something to do with football (not that I’d hold that against the son), and that the party tried to keep him off the primary ballot. The reason they tried that makes me glad he won his court case. Might be worthwhile to look a bit further…
  8. Glenda Gail Parker. Don’t know anything, beyond noticing that she’s a woman, but Darline can claim the same distinction. More in Ms. Parker’s favor: No prominent mention of Trump on her website. Interesting…
  9. Mark Lynch. A second Mark! Here’s his website. (No prominent mention of Trump!)
  10. Mark McBride. Yet another Mark! Here’s his website. Again, no obvious mention of Trump (mind you, I haven’t read every word on any of these sites), and his issues page mentions relatively normal things that a Republican in, say, the 1990s might have talked about. Fascinating.

I’m going to look more closely into those folks who show no interest in the current president. Some of them sort of exude an aura of sanity that is sadly unfamiliar these days. I’ll let you know if I decide to vote for any of them.

Of course, if there are any professional Republican consultants who have taken a moment to pay attention to any of those candidates who seem to be from a pre-Trump universe, they are snorting with derision and saying something like, “Huh! Another loser who wants to stay a loser!”

That’s their conventional “wisdom.” Me I’m looking forward to a day when they’re wrong. You know, a day when our country is Great Again.

Top Five Best Presidential Elections

A couple of times during that last post, I mentioned how well things were going in this country until the presidential election of 2016. At every point before then, while one party or the other might have been bitterly or even childishly disappointed (like the Democrats in 2000, or the Trumpistas in 2020), our system had worked wonderfully, for the nation and the world.

That got me thinking. Yes, things worked well for those first 56 national elections. But which were the elections when it all worked out best?

Which seemed to me like a situation that called for a Top Five List. So here goes. Note that this time, I’m not ranking the five, but putting them in chronological order:

  • 1800 — This is the one that proved our system could survive, that one party actually could peacefully relinquish power and step aside, and the nation would continue. We all know that my man John Adams lost this one, but we don’t talk much about the fact that it remained tied between Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr, which was a real crisis. But the backup plan worked (barely), as Jefferson won in the House of Representatives, thus protecting the nation — if not poor Alexander Hamilton — from the execrable Burr.
  • 1824 — This is another that went to the House (although under the new rules of the 12th Amendment), which protected the nation from the awful Andrew Jackson, and gave us the last of that string of extraordinary founding presidents, John Quincy Adams. But this did not last. We got stuck with Jackson in 1828, and this lowered expectations almost to Trumpian levels, and Old Hickory was followed by a string of mediocre-to-bad presidents that most of us would be hard-pressed to name in order. And who would want to, anyway? This one was not lasting in its effect — much like the election of 2020, which gave me such joy and hope for the nation at the time, before we learned that madness still gripped our country. But I include it so that we remember John Quincy, perhaps our most-qualified presidential candidate ever.
  • 1860 — The one that elected our greatest president, and launched our bloodiest war — the one against each other. This was the pivotal moment in our history. Abraham Lincoln was the only man in our history who could have gotten us through what was to come, and with the right outcome. No one else in our history ever possessed such eloquence, such brilliance as a leader, such high ideals, and such an exquisite political skill, which guided him to do the right thing at the right moment at every critical step.
  • 1864 — In its way, just as critical as 1860. The threat from the useless McClellan and the Democrats, the Copperheads and people who were simply sick of our bloodiest war ever, was created a real possibility that we would not complete the task that all this bloodshed was about, and therefore fail to live up to the promise of this country. But Lincoln won re-election, delivered the best inaugural speech ever, rammed the 13th Amendment through the House, thereby ensuring the actual end of slavery (even though most Americans think the Emancipation Proclamation did that, Lincoln knew it did not). And he got it all done before he was uselessly martyred. If only he could have still been around to lead us into the Reconstruction.
  • 1932, 1936, 1940, and 1944 — Yes, every election in which FDR was elected. I couldn’t make up my mind which was most important. The year he was first elected, with the country in its worst economic mess ever? Or 1940, with the war having started in Europe and the Pacific and our country’s ability to act crippled by isolationism? Or 1944, when it would have been crazy to change captains with a war still to be won? I don’t know enough about 1936 to assess it, except that this group of four seems a critical series to me.

Those are my picks — sorry about cheating a bit on that last one, but I really don’t think one of them would have done without the other three. Franklin Roosevelt was our second-greatest president, and we needed him throughout that period.

We’ve had other good ones, and a couple that gave me great joy in my lifetime, but none with the same positive impact.

What are your picks, and your justifications for them? And more importantly, when will we ever have such great elections again?

The best SC election result in a while

Screenshot — click to see source.

Last night, I started to text Alan Wilson my congratulations. I was going to say:

Alan, I’m very happy for you tonight, and very relieved for South Carolina.

But when his number came up, I realized it was a landline, probably at the AG’s office. I guess I don’t have his mobile. So I’ll just say it here.

I’m happy for Alan not only because he’s a good guy, but because he was the only remotely decent, qualified, sane candidate seeking the GOP nomination. He was a guy who was running because he thinks S.C. needs a good governor (near as I can tell, that idea was nowhere in the minds of his opponents), and that he could do the job.

And I think he’s right. Let’s hope so, because he’s now the guy who will be elected governor in November. That is, officially elected governor, in the de jure sense. The de facto election was yesterday.

Is that a crack at Jermaine Johnson? Absolutely not. I don’t know him, and know little about him (factors that most voters in South Carolina share), but I know a lot of people who do know him and say only good things about him. He seems to have clearly been a stronger candidate than the other two who ran. But among those people who say good things about him and are thoroughly versed in the realities of South Carolina politics, I don’t think a single one thinks the Democrats are going to win this time.

Just to review: No Democrat has been elected governor in this state in this century. The last was Jim Hodges in 1998, and he had to sell out completely on the state lottery (he was a staunch and articulate opponent of the idea before that) in order to win. Before that, the last had been Dick Riley, who was first elected in the ’70s and was already out of office when I arrived at The State in 1987.

Since then, the Democrats have had two strong candidates — Vincent Sheheen and James Smith, whom I helped make a run at the office in 2018. Vincent made a very good showing in the 2010 race — a tough one because that was the year of the Tea Party and the beginning of the state GOP’s slide into very disturbing territory. But he didn’t do as well.

There was no one as strong as those two seeking the Democratic nomination this year.

So for me as a voter, the issue was as always: How do we get the best — or least bad — result out of this election? Given that the Republican was almost completely certain to win, that meant Alan Wilson had to win. Because the rest of the field was… disturbing, to use that relatively neutral word again.

Never mind the bullets South Carolina dodged on June 9. In yesterday’s runoff, Alan was up against a woman who had offered zero reasons why any voter who cares about good governance would vote for her to become our state’s chief executive. Go look at her website if you doubt me.

And yet, she had received more votes than Alan Wilson had on June 9. That was worrisome, since to beat her, Alan had to get the votes that had gone to the other candidates who didn’t make the runoff cut. Arguments can be made that those people were worse options than Pam Evette. And Wilson would need the support of people who actually voted for those people.

And he got them, I’m happy to say. In fact, he crushed Pam Evette, by a proportion you would have expected back in the days before the American and South Carolina electorates went mad about a decade ago. He got 69 percent of the vote, at last count.

That’s what makes this the best election result in SC since… well, since Russell Ott beat first Dick Harpootlian, and then the Republican to become my new senator in 2024. In this election, people who had just voted for some of the worst candidates possible somehow managed to see by yesterday that Alan was clearly the better choice. Which he was, for all sorts of reasons that used to matter in elections, but seldom do these days — things like experience, understanding of the job, character, temperament, and ability to see beyond the pettiest concerns of your own partisan base.

Cindi pointed out some of those things in her paper’s runoff endorsement of Alan. I was reminded of such point again this morning. I had coffee with James Smith to talk about something totally unrelated to this stuff, but of course the runoff came up. James told me about something I had totally missed.

Did you watch the GOP gubernatorial debates? I tried to watch one for about two minutes, but stopped so I wouldn’t hurl. James tells me that Pam Evette tried to make an issue of him. She blathered on about Alan having supported a “liberal judge” candidate — that candidate being James. That’s the level on which she operates — Trumpian labels, rather than facts or other relevant considerations.

I hadn’t remembered Alan supporting him, but James did not dispute that fact, and if it’s correct, that would make sense.

Let me tell you an anecdote from the 2018 election. One day, Alan was presiding over a ceremony on the south lawn of the State House that was honoring — I think (it’s been awhile) — public officeholders who have served in the National Guard (or in the military generally — as I said, it’s been awhile).

Alan and James are officers in the Guard. Alan is a JAG officer, and James was a JAG officer who, after 9/11, resigned his commission to enlist as an infantry soldier. He eventually regained his commission in that capacity, and led troops in combat in Afghanistan. That gained him a place in the Guard’s Hall of Fame. He’s now a lieutenant colonel. If there are any officers in the Guard who don’t deeply respect his service, I haven’t met them.

I was standing on the edges of that gathering, waiting for James to come down from his office in the Blatt Building (where I think he was making calls to potential donors or something else dreary but necessary). As I waited, Alan came up to me to ask whether James was going to make it. He was very anxious to make sure James would be there to be recognized and honored. He was very clear and insistent on that point, and his tone and facial expression strongly emphasized his words.

Or to put it another way, the Republican attorney general was very worried he wouldn’t get a chance to honor the Democratic nominee for governor, in the middle of the general election. That’s the way Pam Evette would have put it, and she would have expected voters to be totally outraged at such a display of honor and decency.

So I went up and told James “We have to go NOW,” and he came along, and as I recall, Alan was quite relieved.

To the Pam Evettes of this world, that story would damn him. So I’m quite relieved that she won’t be our governor beginning next year.

 

Did anyone else out there vote today? How did it go?

I expect the answer from most of you will be “no.”

But I did. This is the kind of situation in which careful, thoughtful voters have the greatest obligation to vote. Primaries are bad enough — for the most part, the only people who turn out (for both parties) are the most devoted party members, and therefore, far too often, the most dangerous ideologues.

But runoffs are worse. Fortunately, some of the most dangerous characters (Ralph Norman and Nancy Mace) were eliminated on June 9. And happily, we won’t have either of them in Congress any more after this year, either.

The runoff is still critical, as it’s between the best of the lot from the original crowd, and someone who had no business running for the office she had already held since 2018, much less for governor. (Things could have been very different, as I have explained before — but voters threw away that opportunity.)

By contrast, Alan Wilson is an intelligent, decent person who has an unusual amount of experience in government at the statewide level. Does he say some ridiculous stuff in the course of a GOP primary? Yep. Because you have to do that to win a Republican primary (which is the only way to get elected governor, unless you’re a Democratic governor of greater popularity than we’ve seen in a generation; if James couldn’t do it, no Democrat on the scene today can).

If you wonder how Alan differs from his opponents (including the only surviving one) in this contest, look at that editorial I called your attention to yesterday. The older I get, the less and less it’s about the “issues” pols yammer about, and more and more about character.

That’s why I voted for him two weeks ago, and again today. And fervently hope he wins, because the one who wins today will be our governor starting next year.

The problem is, how many people like me — people who despise parties and do all they can to elect the best (or at least, least bad) candidate — voted today?

Not as many as should have, I’m sure. But will the ones who did be enough?

Meanwhile, here’s somebody I’d like to vote for

If you have a good memory, you may recall that when I was James Smith’s communications director, I worked with a young guy named Noah Barker, as I mentioned him a couple of times back then.

And when I say “young,” I mean he was 17, and just days out of high school when I joined the campaign that July, and he was preparing with great excitement to vote for the first time.

But you wouldn’t have known he was that young if you had talked politics with him without seeing his face. He had the kind of encyclopedic knowledge not only of the present situation, but of the political history of our state and nation (something I like to talk about, since back in the day, our politics made some sense).

He was also the only staffer on the campaign who had actually won a gubernatorial election. At the time, he was the serving governor of Boys State. Which may not sound like much to you, but it was at least something.

Since then, Noah has gotten through college and started a career, and stayed extremely involved in politics even as I’ve put it behind me. He worked as a volunteer to help Joe Biden get elected in 2020, God bless him, and has helped run a bunch of campaigns on a more modest level — legislative, local council and the like. And he’s won some of them — which despite my advanced age and abundant wisdom, I have never accomplished.

Now, he’s running for office himself. On June 9, he’s seeking the Democratic nomination to represent District 70 — the Kershaw/Richland district in which he’s lived all his life — in the South Carolina House of Representatives.

Now, you may smile indulgently and say, “Of course he’s running for office. You knew Noah would do that eventually.” And that’s true enough. But in his case he has an excuse, a reason, a justification for running that most people of any political persuasion you can name would probably see as sound. The first issue on his Issues page is this:

Showing Up

When we elect a legislator, we expect them to show up and do their job. Our current representative in the South Carolina House of Representatives, Robert Reese, doesn’t show up to work.

In his first term as our state legislator, Reese has been one of the worst offenders when it comes to skipping votes. So far, he has missed 153 votes.

That’s 153 times that our district has been left voiceless. That is unacceptable…

For Noah, this is not just a statistic he read somewhere. As a legislative monitor, he’s at the State House every day the General Assembly is in session, and all too often his representative is not.

I’m believing Noah on this. Since I’m no longer being paid to do real journalism, I have not called his opponent to cry “J’Accuse…!” and demand he justify himself. In fact — and you can dismiss all I say on this basis if you’re so inclined — I don’t know Rep. Reese. (I hear that quite a few legislators don’t know him, either, so I don’t feel alone on that point.)

If Mr. Reese presents overwhelming evidence that either he has too been there, or that his absences are entirely justified, I’ll be happy to run that, too.

But his quality of representation is not why I, personally, would vote for Noah if I lived in his district. I have a bunch of other reasons. Two big ones are:

  • The rest of what’s on his Issues page. Sure, I might be able to quibble on a point or two — there’s not one person on this planet I would agree with about everything. But what he has here is solid, sensible, pragmatic stuff that has nothing to do with what political tribe he belongs to, or whom he resents, or where he stands in the Kulturkampf. And although this shouldn’t be remarkable at all, the thing that really makes his list stand out is that all these issues are actually relevant to the office he is seeking. That’s because unlike most candidates (and definitely unlike most voters), Noah actually has an extensive, working understanding of the job he is seeking.
  • Everything else I’ve learned about Noah over the years.

Bottom line, Noah is the kind of person I’m always hoping to find on a ballot and seldom do these days. His intelligence, his moral compass, his sincere passion about his state and country, his willingness to work hard not just for people who look like or sound like or think or feel like him, but everyone in our society… they all add up to a rare opportunity for voters.

Noah, unlike me, is a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat, which is fine because he fits into that small subset that is too rare in his party (and in the Trump era, almost nonexistent in the other party). I’m talking about people I’d go out of my way to vote for: James Smith and Mandy Powers Norell, Joe Biden, Russell Ott, Joe Riley, Vincent Sheheen, Joel Lourie, and God Rest His Soul, Jimmy Carter.

You see that picture at the top of this post? I shot that of him last year, standing behind his car after we’d had coffee in Five Points to talk about his candidacy. Note the green bumper sticker to the left in the picture. That is not a sticker issued by an “Andy Beshear for President” campaign. Noah had it made himself. He likes Andy Beshear, and he loves Jimmy Carter, and so he made for himself a Beshear sticker in the Jimmy Carter style. When Jimmy ran in 1976, I’d never seen a green campaign sticker. It was quite distinctive, and I really liked it. So does Noah. Look at his website’s color scheme.

How does this kid know that? Well, he does. He also understands something that too few people of any political persuasion understand these days, which is that LBJ was probably the most effective president this country has had since FDR, and he accomplished a staggering number of huge, good things for this country. Hence that other sticker.

Well, that’s all I want to say, except that I’m proud of Noah and the campaign he’s running, and he’d better send me one of his bumper stickers, which I understand are a lot like Jimmy’s. I can’t vote in his district, but I can put one of those on my old truck. Maybe it will do him some good somehow…

I’m happy to say I NEVER talked like that…

I hadn’t thought about Doonesbury in awhile, but Mullins McLeod brought him to mind this week with one of his campaign texts.

There are a number of reasons one might not choose him as our governor, some more lurid than others, but this text (and the others like it that punctuate my days with unsolicited beeping) would be enough to keep me off his bandwagon:

Do not be deceived this election. My opponents are not for the people; they represent the political class and donor class.

The biggest threat the people of S.C. face is our own government selling us out to artificial intelligence because once you replace human intelligence with A.I. there will be no more jobs.

My opponents’ websites do not talk about data centers or A.I. stealing our jobs. One of them is invested in A.I. and the other voted for the Energy Security Act which allows power companies to raise our power rates to ensure their profitability as data centers are built. He also voted to allow data centers to conceal from us how much of God’s gift to us, our water, they take from us. I am the only candidate calling to shut down data centers before it’s too late.

I am also the only candidate who: demands a livable wage; demands increased pay for teachers; shuts down crony capitalism and insider deals; reduces our income tax; attacks power companies who raise our bills; helps student loan borrowers; protects our elderly; fixes the state pension and guarantees a veto on bills that limit women’s healthcare rights.

You judge a candidate not by what they promise but by the deeds they have done. The contrast between my record of being the voice of the people when it matters the most speaks for itself…

… and yadda-yadda.

Immediately, when I read that, I remembered this Doonesbury strip from 1973:

It was one of Trudeau’s all-time best. Phred the retired (he thought) Viet Cong has been called back up, and finds himself listening to the kind of bloviating nonsense he hasn’t heard in awhile. He had my sympathy when the strip first appeared, and he has it now.

Back to Mullins… we’ve all seen this kind of appeal to vague resentments and suspicions before — far, far too often. These days, it makes sense to call it the Trump approach. You want to get elected, and you know there are a bunch of people out there who have a lot of rumbling resentment about things they can’t quite put their fingers on, so you tell them you’re the answer to their disaffection. You tell them you’re with them, and against all those folks in, as Mullins puts it, “the political class and donor class.”

You toss out a long list of promises — a wall to keep Mexicans out, or a living wage, or whatever. But one thing you don’t do, if you’re Mullins, is explain how you’re going to get a Republican Legislature to do these things.

And while you say “judge a candidate not by what they promise but by the deeds they have done,” he doesn’t bother to list any, you know, deeds he has done. His website is light on those as well.

This post is not intended to pick on Mullins McLeod particularly. That text just hit the button that made me think of that strip, and I wanted to share it because I’ve always thought it was brilliant.

But no, I would not vote for him. Nor would I vote for most of those people over in the other primary. If you really want to get depressed about the state of politics in America, go over and review some of their nonsense. It follows the same formula — show you resent the same things they resent, and get them to vote for you on that basis (which is, seriously, not a rational basis for governing):

Nancy Mace has a plan to work with President Donald Trump and stem the tide of illegal immigration. She is also the only governor’s candidate to actually fire a sanctuary sheriff in South Carolina!

Nancy Mace has a plan to address crime in South Carolina since our Attorney General and Solicitors won’t do their job.

(Pam Evette:) I’ve been with you from the beginning. I’ve been with President Trump from the start, and I’ve been fighting for conservative values every single day — as a mother, as a businesswoman, and as your Lieutenant Governor. What we’ve seen with President Trump, we can experience in South Carolina

Ralph Norman knows that to change the system, you can’t be a part of it. In Congress, he’s a member of the House Freedom Caucus, pushing to make legislation more conservative and hold weak-kneed politicians accountable for every dollar spent.

To translate…

  • I don’t like those wetbacks any more than you do. And if I find somebody givin’ ’em sanctuary, I’ll kick his ass! I’ve done it.
  • Note that the guy I claim without justification is not doing his job is running against me!
  • I love that guy that you all love because he hates the same people you hate. I promise more of what he’s brought to America. Of course, I’ve never done a thing in office for South Carolina, but you can see I have the right attitude!
  • You can’t be a part of the system… the way, you know, I have been for more than 20 years — holding office and accomplishing nothing while ranting about what an outsider I am.

That’s enough about them. Back to the Dems…

I don’t know Jermaine Johnson, but people who do say he’s a good guy. Of course, he engages in some of the same kind of rhetoric, although perhaps with greater justification:

Dr. Jermaine Johnson wasn’t born into power—he fought his way into it. He’s not a career politician or a wealthy insider…

In his defense, he does list some things he’s actually done, on this page of his website, but it doesn’t take up a lot of space:

In his first term alone he passed a bill to lower sales tax for seniors, repaired a bridge that had been closed since the 2015 Thousand Year Flood and expanded broadband access. Since then, he began construction on an emergency medical center in rural Lower Richland, struck down an anti- DEI bill, and commissioned a statue of Civil War hero, congressman, and civil rights champion Robert Smalls.

Still, it’s something.

Billy Webster can’t claim all that much himself. Of course, he hasn’t held elective office — although he can point to his service in Dick Riley’s U.S. Department of Education.

And in his defense, I found this page of his site refreshing. Nothing about “I resent the same things you do!,” and serious words about things that an actual governor of an actual state ought to be concerning himself with…. Infrastructure, education, healthcare…

My main concern about Billy is his involvement in payday lending. But I haven’t made up my mind about him, either.

And I’m not sure it matters, for two reasons:

There is not one strong, well-known candidate with a proven ability to win a statewide election in the entire Democratic field. No one with a measureable fraction of the experience and name recognition of James Smith or Vincent Sheheen. And they couldn’t get elected in this state. I’m as certain as I can be that none of this year’s candidates have anything resembling a chance. That means the winner of the Republican primary is going to be governor.

The Republcan field, with one exception, is crammed with with people with no useful abilities or relevant experience, and their heads mostly seem crammed with a bunch of nonsense that would never do South Carolina a scrap of good, and probably would do a good bit of harm. So the most important thing is that none of those people get the nomination.

Yeah, the one exception is Alan Wilson. He’s a solid guy — a decent, trustworthy man who has served capably, at the statewide level, for 15 years. I would trust him with the office of governor, and I don’t think he’d let South Carolina down.

You might find it hard to tell that from his website and ads. He can’t be governor without winning the Republican primary, and he knows most of the people who vote in that are people who think having Donald Trump running our country is a good idea.

So we’re treated to things like the appalling “Alan Wilson is Trump-Tough” page. Lord have mercy upon us.

But elsewhere, you’ll find something approaching the kind of pragmatic, to-the-point addressing of issues that I liked on the Webster site. There’s some silly ideological junk there, too, but I’m never going to get what I want at this stage in our history, so I go for what seems least bad.

Not exactly a ringing endorsement, eh? Well, it’s not endorsement. This post started exactly as I wrote it. I got irritated by the latest example of McLeod’s ideological nonsense, and got a smile out of remembering a joke from long ago, making fun of the same sort of stuff. Then I figured I’d look around and mention the other people, too.

After all, we do have this election coming up…

The utter madness going on now at a state capitol near you

One of the maps being discussed.

Unbelievably, I just learned about this last night, because as y’all know I’m not paying NEARLY as much attention to news as I once did.

Perhaps you’ve been as inattentive as I have. I hope not. But in any case, none of us knows how it’s going to turn out.

I’m talking about this.

Here’s another version from The State.

What’s going on in this: Donald Trump is trying his best to redraw all the Southern states’ maps (and maybe others as well; I’m just looking at the South here) so that there is no hope of them ever electing another Democrat. No Jim Clyburn, and so forth. This is all sparked by the recent Supreme Court decision regarding the Louisiana map, which has thrown the doors open to this sort of thing. This is now apparently a big part of his vision of becoming permanent Fürher of America, along with such things as changing the rules so he can run for a 3rd time in what would likely prove to be our last presidential election (in his lifetime, anyway), and making sure he can win it in the House, no matter what the voters say.

I had sorta, kinda been following this — elsewhere. My wife, who’s from Memphis, had focused my attention on what Tennessee just did. They had torn apart the 9th Congressional District that since the early ’70s had been mostly electing black representatives. (I voted for the first of those, Harold Ford. Later regretted it. But I liked his son.) So now, black Memphians (who are the majority in the city) are raging about the “racist” map, and the current incumbent (who, incidentally, is white and the first Jewish congressman from Tennessee, and can’t really play the usual Memphis race card), is talking about the indiscriminate elimination of Democrats.

Which is somewhat more to the point in the Memphis case. If Trump thought black members would support him as slavishly (and that’s the word here) as white Republicans do, he’d be looking for a way to make ALL the districts majority-minority, if that were possible. For that matter, if only Democrats loved him as the terrified Republicans do, he’d go for more Dems. He’s not particular. But neither of those fantasies being the case, he’ll settle for a plan that elects only Republicans. He only cares about Number One — never forget that.

As for SC, I only heard about this last night from a Democratic friend whom I had called about something else entirely. I’ve talked to a couple of other people since then — well, one other person, a Republican. But I’m trying to reach a lobbyist by text who can tell me what the hell is going on right now. Other that, I’ve been reading but not learning much. Because going into today, nobody knew what was going to happen. This is moving very fast.

It seems it will depend on whether the Senate goes along with a last-second reapportionment. I hear Majority Leader Shane Massey is against it, but I can’t swear to that. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, over in the House, I hear about Republicans running around talking about the latest “White House map.”

Y’all do understand the extent to which this means we are living in a different country than the one in which I have spent most of life. Right? Sure, presidents have always been highly interested in the makeup of Congress, and therefore very interested in the maps, and quietly keeping track of what’s happening.

But that’s not THIS America, in which the president openly barges in and takes over this process, and his minions in Columbia are unembarrassed about making it clear what’s going on.

You see, folks, legally — constitutionally — remapping is entirely the responsibility and prerogative of state legislatures. In any previous decade, lawmakers of both parties would have been fiercely defending their turf, furious if any mere president tried to muscle in.

But not these guys. Not in Trump World.

We won’t even get into the completely uncaring betrayal of the Legislative Black Caucus, which in the early ’90s made the deal with the Republicans that let the GOP take over the S.C. House. But let’s not be too harsh in judging today’s Republican members. They, and their Master, are even more ignorant about history than most Americans. Thirty years ago, when that deal with the caucus was made, I doubt Trump knew where South Carolina was, much less which party was running it. (Here he is in those days.)

At the top of this post, I’ve including one of the maps that’s been floating around. If they go ahead with this, no telling what the final version will look like. This one is intriguing. It does away with the salamanderlike district the Republicans drew for Clyburn back then — not to elect a Democrat, but to get all those black voters out of their districts, to make them “safe.”

So the new 6th looks “normal.” it also looks like something they may regret if they go for it. That Democrat I spoke with about this last night is already thinking about running for it.

But what do the doofuses in the White House know about the political geography of South Carolina?

The post I took down too late

EDITOR’S NOTE: I initially posted this on Opening Day. I turned to start doing other things, but then looked back and didn’t like what I saw. I decided to take it down. But I was too late. At least a couple of you have tried to comment on it, but been frustrated. Sorry about that. But I looked at that original headline — “First nominee for worst political ad of 2026 so far” — and the prospect of provoking multiple discussions of perfectly sickening stuff just made me decide I didn’t want to go there. In the past, I have relished such debates, but I have found that in this new Age of Unreason, you get nowhere trying to preach sense to nonsense. Everyone just gets all dyspeptic and goes away muttering. So, I’m not going to invite nominees to offer ads that sicken them, too. Then we’ll all be unhappy. Anyway, I didn’t mean to deprive you of anything. I just decided not to go there. I turned to something that might spark more pleasant interactions with my fellow humans.

Happy opening day! Baseball has begun! The Red Sox face the Reds in Cincinnati at 4:10 today!

If there’s a drawback to the return of baseball, I suppose it’s that I’ll start seeing a lot of TV ads again. I seldom watch live broadcast TV otherwise — I prefer streaming. But watching sports means ads. The good news is that I generally watch through the MLB TV app, and they block out a lot of them.

Unfortunately, that is not the case with TV news, or the game shows that come on at about the same time. I don’t usually watch those on my own, but I see them frequently when I go visit my mother in the evenings. And last night, I hit my limit of tolerance with the repeated airing of the latest from Ralph Norman.

I’m not going into details, except to say that this is a particularly offensive example of one of the most tiresome tropes in American politics. It tends to go something like, “Politishuns is a bunch a crooks, so y’all gotta elect me so I can go set ’em straight!”

Donald Trump’s “clean up the swamp” nonsense is perhaps the best-known recent example of the genre, but this was a standard approach long before he befouled our politics. The approach dates at least back to Andy Jackson’s day. His election was the first landmark in the development of our country’s more offensive forms of populism.

Don’t think I’m exaggerating in describing it. The title of the ad is “Crooks.” That’s it. Nothing like “I will make South Carolina better by doing X or Y.” Just “Crooks.” You know, subtle…

I’m not going to go into details on Norman’s proposals, because they’re all things I’ve addressed many times before. Or at least I won’t go beyond this: The core of his campaign seems to be the oldy in which he offers himself as someone who, as a “businessman,” is obviously better than “politicians.”

I don’t know anything about his business or how it has endowed him with superior character, but I do know that he:

Was a state legislator from 2005 to 2007, and apparently liked it so much that he came back in 2009 and stayed until 2017, at which time he went up to Congress — that monument to character and rectitude — and has stayed there ever since.

And yet, somehow, things didn’t get better.

But don’t worry! It’ll all get fixed when he’s governor!

That’s all I have to say about this ad that’s irritating me so much at the moment. There are probably worse ones out there, although it sickens me to think so. I’ve seen some awful ones recently from Henry McMaster’s lieutenant governor, whose name it always takes me a moment to recall because Henry elevated her from obscurity, and I can’t think of anything she’s done since. Pam. That’s it. I’d have to Google her other name.

But this is the one bugging me right now.

Maybe some of you who see more TV ads than I do have worse examples. Share your own nominees, although I don’t know whether I’ll have the stomach to go watch them.

I’m going to watch some baseball. I hope I get back from class today in time to catch the last innings…

 

Teague: South Carolina’s Election Commission: Troubled Waters

The Op-Ed Page

Lynn Teague
Guest Columnist

The South Carolina State Election Commission (SEC, not to be confused with anything athletic) has been in the news a lot in the past week, following the removal of Director Howard Knapp by a 3-2 vote of the commissioners last Wednesday. There had been reports of a SLED investigation involving Knapp, but no specific information.

Howard Knapp

This came during a period of uncertainty regarding the SEC’s response to the demands of the federal Department of Justice (DOJ) for our voter rolls, including sensitive personal information. The feds don’t have an impeccable record of data security of late, and this seems both not necessary (our rolls are already checked against federal databases to identify non-citizens and against multiple sources for other verifications) and a potential source of data exposure.

All of this has been further complicated by the firing of the Assistant Director of the SEC over a voice-activated recording device left, intentionally or not, in an SEC training and meeting room.

This turmoil has led to many questions. The first is whether voters should be panicked about what is happening, given elections that are coming soon. Should we panic about either the voting conditions or the integrity of the elections? This one is easy to answer.

Lynn Teague

We can expect the usual human glitches: the poll worker who forgets the key to the polling place and delays opening, the ballot marking device that won’t function, and similar technical problems. We should not expect anything else. At both the state and county levels, the people who make elections work on a day-to-day basis will continue to do the work that they know very well. They will conduct elections designed to count and report every vote, accurately. Furthermore, they will not be rudderless; they will be overseen by our bipartisan election commissioners.

However, this is followed by longer-term concerns. The privacy of our voter records is one of these. This issue is currently in court, in a case before Judge Daniel Coble in Columbia on 26 September. The data security issues around federal systems have already been mentioned.

In addition, it is here that the most important long-term issue arises: Is the South Carolina SEC the independent agency governed by appointed commissioners that we have believed that we have, or is it more vulnerable to political pressures? Commissioners are appointed by the governor, but during their terms cannot be removed except for cause. This is designed to insulate them from passing political storms.

We know that pressure from elected officlals is not unprecedented in the history of the SEC. The departure of the previous director, Marci Andino, followed some very angry comments from legislators who were disturbed by her letter suggesting an array of accommodations for voters during the pandemic. However, that what an exception to the history of the agency. On the whole, the South Carolina election management system contrasts markedly, and very favorably, with states where a partisan official oversees elections.

We should all hope that it stays that way, that South Carolina continues to preserve some measure of distance between partisan politics and the administration of what absolutely must be a non-partisan process, our elections. Politics today is highly adversarial and often becomes performance art, designed to get attention for the official or the official’s party rather than to achieve something substantive. Our elections should not be driven astray in those ugly winds.

Meanwhile, voters should check their registrations at scvotes.gov at least 30 days before elections. They should consult the League of Women Voters’ Vote411, where there is an abundance of election information, including candidate statements in their own words, not edited by anyone.

But after all that is done, we should hope that everyone will keep an eye on the General Assembly. The disturbances at the SEC are not a sound rationale for changing our election administration to one administered by partisan officials or in any way more vulnerable to manipulation. We should all be able to continue to vote with confidence that our votes are accurately tabulated and reported in a process that is not biased toward outcomes for one party or another (other than in redistricting, but that is another subject).

Lynn Teague is a retired archaeologist who works hard every day in public service. She is the legislative lobbyist for the South Carolina League of Women Voters.

The great challenge: telling them who you are

I haven’t given up on electoral politics, even though we’ve seen results now that could tempt even a passionate small-R republican to ask King Charles III to come on over, and resume reigning where George III left off. Because our system of choosing leaders has been doing a shocking job of showing off its failings lately. (And the word “shocking” is an understatement here. I guess I’m just trying to be cool about it.)

I haven’t given up because there are still people out there worth electing, if only we could elect enough of them. And if only enough of them would run, because these days we’re talking about only a very tiny percentage of those who make themselves available. The good people are probably down in the single digits, because so few good candidates are willing to subject themselves to the process.

But as I said, we have some, and I’m grateful for each one. You’ll recall how pleased I was when Russell Ott became my state senator back in November. I had done what I could to help make it happen — doing such pitifully small things as going around and talking neighbors into putting up yard signs for him, and introducing him to friends and family a couple of times. Maybe I got him one vote, or even two — for which, if it’s so, I’m proud. But obviously, a lot of people were doing small things like what I did. And Russell was doing plenty all by himself.

Anyway, I’m very pleased at the result. So even now, I occasionally make a tiny gesture toward helping the occasional good candidate — even when I can’t vote for that person. So it was that some weeks back, I sent a miniscule cash contribution to Abigail Spanberger, the former congresswoman who is running for governor in Virginia.

I’ve never met her, but I’ve liked what I’ve read about her. My friend E.J. Dionne up in Washington has said a lot of good things about her, and sometime back he told me I would like her. I’m pretty sure he’s right.

Anyway, I bring her up today because I got an email from her campaign unveiling the first video ad of her campaign. You can watch it above. There’s not much to it, but what little there is reinforces my existing positive impression. My favorite factoid? When she boasts of having been named the most bipartisan member of Congress from Virginia. The fact that she wants people to know that is what’s important. What makes her appealing to me is that she aspires to such recognition. Almost no one else running campaigns these days would care about that. Too many ads tend to boast about how much the candidate hates the “other side.”

(My second favorite thing is that throughout the ad, she’s doing that “walking and talking” thing that we all know from “The West Wing.” But you know, I’m kinda West Wing crazy.)

But whether I liked it or not is beside the point. She didn’t spend all that money on an ad for me. She did it to try to explain, as well as anyone could in 30 seconds, who she was to people who have never heard of her — despite her having served three terms in Congress from the state.

She has to do that because of what has been, historically, the greatest flaw in democracy. Sure, there are plenty of people in Virginia — especially northern Virginia, where she’s from — who know far, far more about her than I do, and will vote for her as a result. By “plenty,” we’re talking a number somewhere in the thousands. But that’s not nearly enough. More than three million people voted in the last Virginian gubernatorial election.

You’ll recall, I hope, that when someone reportedly told Adlai Stevenson that “Every thinking person in America will be voting for you,” he replied, “I’m afraid that won’t do — I need a majority.” Well, he didn’t get that, losing twice to Dwight Eisenhower for president in the ’50s. Hey, I probably would have voted for Ike, too, given the chance. But I do appreciate a smart, perhaps too-honest candidate like Stevenson.

In his day, and even more in our own, the necessary majority contains a staggering number of people who don’t know who you are, don’t know much (if anything) about the powers and responsibilities of the office you’re seeking, don’t know the relevant issues, and have no overall understanding of how our political system works. I can’t cite you a percentage or anything, but there’s enough such people that you can’t win your majority without a large number of them.

You can only do so much toward turning those folks into “informed voters.” The first and most essential step is simply to expose them to your name, because a shocking number of them will vote on democracy’s most embarrassing basis — name recognition. And then — because your opponent will be grabbing for name recognition too — you’ve also got something to give them some kind of idea who the person behind that name is.

It was our biggest challenge when I was on James Smith’s campaign in 2018. I don’t have those polls we did in front of me, but I seem to remember learning from them that among voters who knew who James was, he was winning. But that number was too small, so we knew that our only chance at victory was to greatly increase it. But we could never afford to do that. We especially couldn’t do it after Henry had a week or so of giving lengthy hurricane briefings every day on TV, which didn’t cost him a dime. I’m not criticizing Henry for that, not a bit. He was doing his job, and our position on it was the say people should listen to the governor. But the political fact is that Jeff Bezos would probably have to scrape to pay for that much exposure, and every bit of it had the subtext, “I’m Henry McMaster, I’m the governor, and I’m keeping you safe.” Them’s the breaks, huh? We could never catch up with that.

Hey, I like Henry. But I knew James was the better candidate. Indications were that most people who knew both men agreed with me. But in our system, the people who actually know enough to be informed voters are too seldom enough for victory.

Just as was the case with Adlai Stevenson. But he lost to a great American. Poor Kamala Harris lost to Donald Trump. So did Hillary Clinton.

So why are things so much worse today than in Stevenson’s day? After all, today we’re all drinking “information” from a fire hose, in a volume unimaginable in the 1950s. Trouble is, most of it is junk that comes at us because an algorithm has determined that this is what we want to hear, as opposed to what we need to know to be good citizens. And even the tiny remnants of legacy professional media — the kind people relied upon a generation ago — is affected by that poisonous distortion, in a couple of big ways (another long blog post, alas).

Anyway, to get back to Abigail Spanberger… I’m encouraged that as a congresswoman who served six years in Virginia’s 7th District, she’s got more of a head start than James ever had as a state lawmaker of 24 years. But introducing herself is still something she must do, successfully, to win.

So while I know I won’t ever be able to do enough to help her achieve that goal, I do like to chip in. If I can come up with a few (very few) more bucks, I’ll contribute again. I like to do my infinitessimal bit, when I can…

There was Henry on the telly ever day, telling us how to survive the hurricane…

 

Good for you for trying, Jeannie Gaffigan!

Here’s another thing Brad’s been doing (for the last few days, at least) instead of blogging: Trying to get through all that email that has been piling up since we went to Europe last summer.

In fits an starts the last week or so, I’ve managed to get back to Nov. 1. Which is like digging back a thousand years — to a time when at least a few people in our country could still think straight, and a decent human being who was not trying to destroy human civilization was president of the United States.

And that’s how I ran into this piece in America magazine by Jeannie Gaffigan. Y’all remember Jeannie. I wrote, with enthusiastic approval, about a previous column of hers back in 2020. Here’s a snippet from that earlier Gaffigan column:

As much as some of my well-intended fellow Catholics will hate to hear this, it is crystal clear to me that the right thing to do is vote for Joe Biden. I believe it will be impossible to tackle these other issues with a president who is working overtime to sow division and hatred in this county through insults, intimidation, fear and blatant racism. This venomous “us against them” mentality is trickling down, seeping into our churches and poisoning our pulpits. To a culture of life, vipers are deadly….

Amen, amen, amen!, said I.

Of course, Jeannie had more to work with at that time — our fellow Catholic Joe Biden, the only qualified candidate to run for our nation’s highest office in the last two election cycles. And, of course, the aforementioned decent human being, which is probably his most defining characteristic.

Jeannie Gaffigan

But Joe had been hounded into doing something I’d thought he would never do: he quit. Up until then, he was willing to spend his last breath struggling to save our country, and doing a fine job of it. But it became too hard for him to focus on the mission when the whole country — including people who should know better — were screaming “QUIT, JOE, QUIT!!!” 24 hours a day.

This put Jeannie, and me, and many others, into the uncomfortable position of urging people to vote for Kamala Harris, who tried hard — you’ve gotta give her that — but was still what she had been in 2020: unready. (And I don’t use that term lightly.)

The only advantage Kamala Harris — and those who would advance her bid — had was that her opponent was Donald Trump, for whom no one could possibly justify voting. And no one did. Justification was something these folks didn’t even attempt. Having gone substantially madder since 2020, they just voted for him anyway.

They ignored Jeannie. They ignored me, too, but I have no room to complain, because now we see that I also ignored Jeannie.

But not intentionally. Anyway, in case America will let you read it, here’s her column of Nov. 1. And if the Jesuits are wanting you to subscribe, here’s an excerpt:

An appeal to the moms out there: If you think parenting temper-tantrum toddlers or rebellious teenagers is nearly impossible, try letting them run your government! What would that look like? It’s a chilling thought but one that we can’t afford to ignore…

Amen again. And right now, a bunch of people on Wall Street who may have ignored you and me in November are now seeing exactly what you were talking about…

I keep getting these vapid appeals for contributions, alas

I’ve gotten pretty aggressive about responding “STOP” to appeals via text for political contributions, and I think the volume of them has noticeably dropped. But I still get them. And as usual, they generally do little to improve my overall impression as to the perspicacity of Homo sapiens.

This one from yesterday is a good example:

It’s Ro Khanna. I really need you to read this text.

(But if you’re short on time, please kick in $15 to replace the abysmal Republican House before you log off: rokhanna.us/218b?t=JBZO6O )

I don’t need to tell you that Congress is broken. Republicans have done a great job of that.

So instead, I’ll tell you my plan to fix it:

✅ Ban *all* PAC and lobbyist money from Congress
✅ Ban Congress members from trading stocks
✅ Enact term limits for Congress members and SCOTUS Justices
✅ Ban Congressmembers from ever becoming lobbyists

Hear me when I say this: So long as Republicans are in control, my ambitious plan to hold members of Congress accountable is dead in the water.

So today, I’m calling on my grassroots supporters to replace the catastrophic Republican Congress with progressive Democrats who will actually do their jobs.

I need 185 gifts before my midnight deadline to stay on track. Can I count on your $15? >> rokhanna.us/218b?t=JBZO6O

Thanks,
Ro

Text STOP to quit

OK, so you start out bemoaning “the abysmal Republican House,” suggesting that’s why you’re running, as a Democrat, for office — that is, for re-election to office. The implication being that you are the answer to the problem.

But you don’t talk about how the Trumpistas are tearing our country and its magnificent constitutional representative democracy apart — which is, you know, the problem with that other side.

No, you trot out a list of hoary alienated-populist proposals that make you sound for all the world like you are one of them:

  • Ban all PAC and lobbyist money from Congress (because we don’t trust people with money)
  • Ban Congress members from trading stocks (because we don’t trust markets or business people in general)
  • Enact term limits for Congress members and SCOTUS Justices (because we don’t trust anyone in power, which doesn’t say much that’s good about you)
  • Ban Congressmembers from ever becoming lobbyists (because we wouldn’t want people who know the system to help groups out there to make their cases to elected representatives)

(Remember my old column from the ’90s about how most of our problems in America wre the result of the decline of trust? Well, now that things are exponentially worse, I regret to say I told you so.)

Admittedly, the first two items would appeal to Democratic populists more than Republican ones, but hey, that’s why I’m not a fan of Bernie Sanders, either. But the third one is right out of the right’s playbook.

But more than that, it’s right out of the playbook of alienated people who don’t trust our system, don’t trust anyone in the system, don’t trust experts, and really don’t have the slightest understanding of any of those things.

Think about it. Those are Trump’s people. I mean, seriously: Do you really believe that the problem with this Republican Congress is that it’s full of the old populist stereotypes who start out all right, but get “corrupted” after any extended period in the system, and no longer care about the will of the people who elected them?

Set aside the fact that’s always been an absurd notion. If there’s a problem with a lot of people who have been in office for multiple terms, it’s that they are so interested in staying in office that they become mindless slaves of polls, which means they’ll do everything they can to do EXACTLY what the folks back home want. And to me, that means they are no longer worthwhile representatives.

A good representative should of course know his constituents, and keep their values in mind. But he should NEVER go to Washington (or Columbia) with a lot of half-baked notions about this and that specific issue held by good (or bad) people who have never studied such issues.

A representative should arrive with wishes and plans, but also humility, because he knows he has yet to study complex issues in any depth, or — and this is critical — engaged in extended debate with smart people who don’t see it the way he or his constituents do, and just may have greater understanding of the details than they do. And that is the rule more than the exception — capital cities are crammed with smart people who actually do know the issues better than the average guy on the street.

People such as lobbyists, to name one category (along with good staff people, academics, etc.).

Yes, all of us can cite cases in which big corporations with deep pockets hire armies of lobbyists that easily overwhelm the scrappy Mr.-Smith-Goes-To- Washington folks opposing them.

But scrappy groups that look out for the interests of the poor, the elderly, children, the environment, and whatever your favorite cause may be, have lobbyists, too. And the interests of the people and causes they represent are well served by their work, even though they may not be (OK, they are NOT) as numerous or well-paid as those who represent Big Pharma. If you don’t think they do good work, follow Sue Berkowitz of SC Appleseed Legal Justice Center, or our own Lynn Teague of League of Women Voters as they make their rounds, and become educated.

But I’m letting myself run off on tangents and pound on some of my personal pet peeves, and failing to explain what’s REALLY wrong with that text:

He calls the Republican Congress abysmal, and he’s absolutely right. But why is it abysmal? It certainly not because of the things he’s proposing to address, particularly not because of staying in office too long. The problem is yahoos who just got there and don’t know squat, and actively hate people who do know squat.

If you could bring back some of the Republicans who served for many years before this new crop of nihilists came along — people like Lamar Alexander, Howard Baker, Bob Inglis, Richard Lugar and on and on — Congress and the nation would be in fine shape today. Any decent Republicans — ones who might have filled the shoes of such as those — who are still around today have either quit running for office, or they tremble in fear of the ignorant, unprincipled yahoos with the torches and pitchforks who could replace them in a skinny minute in the next primary. Especially in the House, thanks to Republicans having succeeded a bit too well at redrawing districts so that the primary IS the election.

And their fear gets even greater when they see what the fear itself can do: Look at what happened in 2023 in the U.S. House itself. The five or so craziest members of the caucus managed to take down the speaker. Why? Because more sensible (to various, modest degrees) Republicans were too terrified to stand up to Matt Gaetz el al. Their own cowardice has since led them to be more afraid than before. The terror snowballs, at an exponentially increasing rate.

Give me people who have managed to stay in office for 30 years or more — since long before Trumpism, or the Tea Party — and while they will inevitably include a healthy share of mediocrities (as a result of too often consulting polls so as to follow popular opinion), I will take them any day before the kind of people who rush in these days to try to take their elders down — and succeed.

I probably haven’t persuaded anyone who didn’t already agree with me. Issues such as these tend to divide people almost as much as abortion, or guns — but with less intensity, of course.

The problem isn’t the system, even as much as it’s been damaged by the real problem — a general electorate that has lost its sense of responsibility as voters.

But I guess it’s hard to come up with a simple four-point plan to address that.

The day after…

The view out my home office window at 7:28 a.m. What a bright, sunshiny day, huh?

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

— W.B. Yeats

Well, we know what rough beast. He’s been rending and tearing at the very meaning of our country for eight years now. We know him. And yet all those millions of people, who were right here through it all, actually went out and voted for him. To me, it remains unimaginable that even one person did. (I mean, have you ever seen this guy? Have you ever heard him speak?) But you see what happened.

As for Kamala Harris — well, it would be dishonest to pretend I was her biggest fan, but I was very impressed at the race she ran under such difficult circumstances. And in the end, I was happy and proud to vote for her and Walz and put a sign for them in my yard.

It’s a great tragedy for our country that she didn’t win. The contours of the tragedy are yet to be fully defined, but here’s a starting point: We were the great hope of the world, the greatest force for liberal democracy in human history (and if you’re one of those people who don’t understand the meaning of the word “liberal” in that phrase, please go do some serious reading). Now what will we be?

Whatever it is, there is no reason to think it will be in any way good.

But you know, as much as I mourn for the country I love, I’m even more immediately worried about people in other parts of the world — you know, those people Trump and his most fervent followers really don’t give a damn about. I could write about that from now to the day I die, and only partially describe the horrific likely effects. Just to mention one: I can’t tell you what will happen next in Ukraine, but it’s logical to expect that thousands more innocents will die, and the survivors will spend the rest of their lives being oppressed by Trump’s friend in Russia.

America can (I still hope and pray) bounce back, eventually. I’m not able to be as hopeful for Ukrainians.

Of course, other than that, some things went well, although that sound like I’m saying, “But aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, didn’t the play have some fine scenes?”

But, no longer being the public man I was, here’s my personal view. I had five signs in my yard. Here’s how things went with the folks other than Harris/Walz:

  • Mary Burkett — This is very pleasing, as she seems to be the biggest vote-getter in the Lexington 2 school board race. There are four winners total, and I also voted for two of the other three — Liz Chitty Castles and Craig Aull. My fourth choice was Brian Habing, and he didn’t make it. I have little or no objection to Tre Bray, who did. Three out of four is hard to complain about.
  • Micah Caskey — No surprise there, of course. But there’s a slightly interesting thing about the result. As I said in a previous post, his opponent was a very pleasant young man, and I enjoyed talking with him. But it would be hard to find anyone who seriously thought he had a chance in this Republican district. And yet — according to SCVotes, he got 39.63 percent of the vote. Let’s just round that up and say 40 percent. Of course, that could be because this is a fairly moderate Republican district, but still pretty good. Here’s why that matters: Fatalists are constantly saying there’s no point in voting in SC if you’re a Democrat, but take a look at the numbers. No doubt some people wanted Kamala Harris to win, but stayed home because soneone told them to be “realists.” (Alas, far, far too many Americans turn out only for the presidential contest.) And yet she got 40.42 percent of the vote statewide. Just because a state, or a district, is considered “safe” for the other party does not mean anyone has an excuse to stay home. Every vote counts. Every vote. Always.
  • Russell Ott (for whom I had two signs). This is the one candidate I tried most to help elect, as ridiculously minor as the help may have been — introducing him to friends, knocking on doors to talk a very few neighbors into putting up a sign for him. Make no mistake — the guy who made this happen was Russell himself. He worked as hard as I’ve seen anybody work for a state Senate seat. He made his case, and it was clear that he was the better candidate to any objective observer. But there was reason to worry. His district went for Biden in 2020, but Biden wasn’t running, and I never saw much similar enthusiasm for Kamala Harris in these parts. Congratulations, Russell. I’m glad to see you will be my senator.

That’s about it, from where I sit.

Election of the Body Snatchers II (with a possible answer)

At first, I thought it was maybe a sign of lack of specifically Republican interest that so few voters were at the polling places I mentioned previously in Lexington County.

For a comparison, since I had to go into town anyway, I ran by several over in heavily Democratic Richland. Most were places I used to drop by each Election Day when I was at the paper:

  • A.C. Moore Elementary
  • Rosewood Elementary
  • Sims Park
  • Dreher High School

The first two I just drove by, and confirmed that there no visible lines stretching out the doors. At Sims, I went in, and found one or two people waiting to vote — just like at my own precinct back near Lexington Medical Center.

Finally, at Dreher, I went in and engaged the workers — who weren’t what you’d call busy — in conversation. And maybe I got my answer, although it’s an answer I brought up and immediately dismissed in my last post.

One of those signing people in (occasionally) told me not to be “fooled” by the light trickle of voters. He said 600 people from Ward 16 had voted early. That didn’t impress me until he explained that was half the registered voters (as least I assumed he was talking registered and not voting age population, because he would have had those data at hand — but I neglected to ask) in that ward. And, he said, while it might not look like much at any given moment, 300 had already voted there today. He said that at about 1:15. Conceivably, that left open the possibility that the remaining 300 could vote by the end of the day.

I don’t know, but the same could be true at the other places thus far mentioned, and at the Saluda River precinct I drove back by on my way home.

Huh. Those lines for early voting hadn’t looked very long, particularly when you consider these were people from precincts all over that part of the county. But when you stretch that out over a couple of weeks…

So, maybe folks are voting after all. I may not like the way they vote on this or that race, but I suppose I can’t accuse them of slacking off. Or maybe I can. We’ll see. Dreher was the only place where I went in and got some numbers, and maybe it was different at the other places…

Uh — where are the crowds?

Normally, there are loads of campaign signs in this spot. This time, they had all been stripped away. Voters were almost as scarce in this location…

I get up, and I read how painfully excited everyone is supposed to be across the country, which was to be expected — right?

But then I go check out the action at my own polling place, and — there’s nobody standing outside. And I drive by my Mom’s a couple of miles away, and — it’s the same.

Which is a shock. I mean, here’s what it looked like at my polling place in 2008, which is the year I think of when I think “big turnout.”

You may say, “Yeah, but it’s raining right now.” Yes, very lightly. And an almost identical rain was falling when I took those pics in 2008, too.

But thinking of that, I went back to my own precinct to see if the crowd was all jammed up inside the building.

No. Nothing. No lines at all. I talked briefly with a school board candidate who was standing out greeting people at the door, and he said the workers told him it had been like this all morning — one or two voters at a time.

I stood there and talked to him for several minutes, and during that period that description of the trickle was borne out — one voter went by us and entered.

It wasn’t like this at early voting, as you can see from my previous posts. But at the same time, while the early crowds were good-sized, they weren’t big enough to tell us there would be virtually no turnout on the Day.

What are y’all seeing?

 

Thanks, but I don’t care ‘Where they Stand’ on these issues

One reason I don’t blog more often these days is that I find myself torn between writing fun little things about trivia, and addressing the serious matters of the day. I enjoy doing the former, but a lifelong sense of duty instructs me to do the latter.

The trouble is, so many serious things are so fouled up these days, on so many levels, that explaining what’s wrong with even the smallest thing seems to call for writing a book. Or perhaps several volumes. But I’ll try to be brief.

See this cover of the most recent edition of AARP Bulletin.

On its face, it’s a simple enough matter, and 20 years ago, there would have been nothing objectionable about it, whether we’re talking about a special-interest publication such as this, or a general-interest newspaper. This is their crack at a timeworn institutional convention — the “voters’ guide” edition.”

In a newspaper, the edition would summarize all offices facing readers, giving you brief bios of the candidates and neutral descriptions of their positions, plus how-to info about where to find your polling place, the hours it will be open, etc. With a special-interest pub such as this, you’d particularly provide info on candidates’ positions on issues of intense interest to your target audience. Which in this case would be senior citizens. Hypothetically, that is a category that includes me.

And in the minds of the AARP editors, these special-interest issues include Social Security, Medicare, inflation, caregiving and jobs.

But even in the best of times, this information would have been of little interest to me. These things are far from what I look for in a president. The president is the person who represents our nation, and makes the critical decisions at critical times, in the area of global affairs. These considerations would matter most to me even if I were a voter choosing a chief executive in Britain, or Germany, or Ecuador. But it is of supreme importance in the richest and most powerful nation in the world, which has so clearly been the linchpin of peace and prosperity in the world since 1945.

If I need to read about those things to make up my mind as a voter, I’ll look to such sources as… to pick something quick and easy for you to glance over, here’s a recent column by Max Boot addressing that sphere of concerns. That should give you the general idea.

But the thing is, I don’t really need to read anything at this point regarding those subjects. Since he first blundered into politics to our nation’s great sorrow, Donald Trump has made it clear — and he continues to do so daily, even if you do your best to ignore him — that he will proudly dismantle all international arrangements that have prevented a World War III, blithely destroy the fortunes of our allies and joyfully promote the interests of the very worst people in the world.

I’m no expert on what Kamala Harris would do on this front — no one is, because she has practically zero record — but everything she has said, and what little she has done, indicates she has no intention of being a reckless, destructive force in the world.

But that’s not my major beef with that list of topics. I have a broader objection. I may be the only person you will hear say this — God knows everyone else seems OK with it — but I have always been appalled at the idea of basing my vote on how it is likely to benefit me, or that offensive phrase, “people like me.”

I really, truly believe with every fiber that it is our sacred duty to vote according to what our careful judgment tells us is in the collective interest of the country — or the city, or state, or school district, or whatever political division or subdivision under consideration — as a whole. (And as indicated above, in the case of the U.S. presidency, the world as a whole.)

If we can’t master our selfishness enough to do that to the best of our ability, we shouldn’t be voting — and our community would be far better off if we didn’t.

Many of you will think this view of mine beyond absurd — laughable, contemptibly out of touch. Don’t I know how the world works?

Yes, I do, and I’ve had about enough of this garbage. I am sickened by calculations of will my taxes go up or down, or am I better off than I was four years ago, or will this candidate improve the lot of left-handed Lithunian CIS men like me? I’ve had enough of it, and so has the country.

(Oh, and before you say, “But there are instances in which considering the situation of this or that group is the only right thing to do!” let me say that you are absolutely right. An American voter in, say, the early 1960s had a profound moral obligation to vote in support of the Civil Rights Movement. Not because of the way it affected that voter, or “people like” that voter, but because it was the right and fair thing to do, for the sake of the whole country.)

But enough preaching, right?

Finally, there’s possibly my greatest objection to this feature on the front of the AARP mag:

It pretends that this election for this office is all about cold, hard positions on this, that and the other issue. It isn’t. If you think it is, you really haven’t been paying attention, have you?

A lot of folks on the left like to complain about media engaging in what they are pleased to call “false equivalency.” You know, pretending that these are equally worthy candidates who must be covered and dealt with with a balance that is entirely and equally respectful of both. Lots of times, my readers fling that charge at me, and I do my best to explain why that’s not what I’m doing or saying in that instance.

But folks, this magazine cover is definitely a case of doing that very thing.

It pretends, outrageously, that these candidates are equally decent and qualified people, and that the only way you can choose between them is by carefully examining their stated positions on these specific, cut-and-dried issues.

What utter insanity.

And I’m not just dismissing political promises the way I usually do. As I’ve said many times before, policy statements and other promises are of limited value in determining how well someone will do in office. The future is too unpredictable. No one has the slightest idea what a president, for instance, will face in office, or what will be the best thing to do under those unforeseen circumstances.

This is why I value previous experience as much as I do. If someone has performed in the public sphere before, and we have had ample opportunity to see what that person has done in real life, then we have a basis for a decision. And it’s not about some certain knowledge of what that person will do in the future, based on specific promises and proposals. What we have gained from observing is a sense of whether we trust this person to be the one deciding what to do under unknown circumstances.

A simpler way to say it is, it’s about character, not policy proposals.

And there has never, in the history of our country, been a clearer case of that being true with regard to an election.

I don’t know Kamala Harris’ character as well as I’d like. But I’ve had some opportunity to observe her over the last several years, and I have seen nothing that gives me serious concern. Yep, I’d rather see Joe Biden on the ballot, because I know Joe, but I don’t have that option.

But I have seen far, far, far (I could keep going with the “fars” to Election Day and beyond) too much that shouts of the abominable character of Donald John Trump. So have you. So have we all. I had seen enough back in the 1980s. Maybe you hadn’t yet. (I’m surprised when I hear about people who didn’t know who he was before that “reality TV” show. But I suppose a lot of folks just don’t pay attention.)

I didn’t need to see him being impeached twice, although that definitely needed to happen. I didn’t need the 34 felony convictions, or any of the other legal findings against him. I didn’t need to see him instigate insurrection on Jan. 6, 2021.

And I certainly don’t need a recitation of what he says he would do about, say, Social Security to make a decision. (And I just have to ask: Is there anyone on the planet who doesn’t know that this is a guy who can’t be trusted to stick to the same position from the beginning to the end of a single sentence — if “sentence” is even the correct term for those aimless word salads that come pouring constantly out of him?)

So anyway… thanks for your efforts, AARP, but you can take your handy-dandy voters’ guide and drop it into the oubliette…