So, Nate Silver’s standing on his head to repair his apparently damaged rep as a seer.
Only 538 was never intended to be an extra-sensory visionary into the future. That mis-characterization is ours. We’ve so wanted our elections to be horse races, games that’d hold us rapt for months at a time, that we’ve flocked to news outlets and websites that give us daily — nay, hourly — dope on who’s pulling ahead or lagging behind by the merest fraction of a percentage point.
We — the collective American all — knew which pony’s nose was in front by a nasal hair at any given minute. Yet, at the same time, the candidates were rarely, if ever, grilled on their climate change plans. In fact, the prez-elect was interviewed on 60 Minutes Sunday and not once did the interviewer bring up the global environmental crisis.
So, what are many of us teed off about today? Not that L’il Duce is a climate change denier but that the polls seemed to be wrong.
With each passing day, I’m becoming more and more convinced we got what we deserved.
So, hurray and huzzah, bunches of people got together this past weekend to tell each other and Muslims, Blacks, Latinos, the LGBTQ community, and anyone else who feels threatened now with L’il Duce preparing to take office, how much they adore them.
They all went home and congratulated themselves on how politically active they were.
Until they sit down day after day, night after night in basement boiler rooms to stuff envelopes for mailers, work phone banks, knock on doors, register voters, and really, really strategize how to win elections, starting with the local dog catcher and working their way up — just as the religious right did beginning 40 years ago — all their kumbaya-ing ain’t worth a damn.
Telling people how much you love them and how you’ve got their back, is the work of best friends, paid social workers, and moms. It has its place. It doesn’t help a soul get elected, though.
Hill (L) & Haywood’s Mug Shot
Joe Hill shortly before his death wrote a letter to Big Bill Haywood. In it, he said, “Goodbye, Bill, I die like a true blue rebel. Don’t waste time mourning. Organize!”
Oh, What A Regular Joe!
I’m hearing L’il Duce won’t take his presidential salary when he takes office. No doubt this’ll bring gasps of joy and awe from those who think that means he won’t be a pig at the trough.
Just goes to show you can fool Americans as easily as magically producing a nickel from behind a four-year-old’s ear.
His payday will be every day now that his brand has been enhanced by winning. His kids’ll start marketing steaks and casinos and bourbons and jewelry under his imprimatur and imprint. The 50 percent of the electorate that voted him in office will flock to buy Trump gewgaws and tchotchkes and the dough will roll in.
Besides, how heroic is it for a man who is purportedly worth billions to nix a half-mill a year salary? If we’re looking for successive presidents to do that, then we’re saying we only want uber-rich guys to occupy the White House.
Just wondering: When do we hit the Yoga Teacher Tipping Point?
Pretty much every American citizen is already or is in the process of becoming a yoga teacher these days. You’d have to assume they won’t have any yoga students left to teach.
That might be a problem.