"The blog has made Glab into a hip town crier, commenting on everything from local politics and cultural happenings to national and international events, all rendered in a colorful, intelligent, working-class vernacular that owes some of its style to Glab’s Chicago-hometown heroes Studs Terkel and Mike Royko." — David Brent Johnson in Bloom Magazine
Did you miss Big Talk on WFHB yesterday? No worries: Here’s the link to my interview with Democrat National Convention delegate Cathi Crabtree.
Next week, Bloomington fave Adria Nassim.
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Remember, if you must talk, talk big!
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Bending Over Backwards
On top of all his other sins, both cardinal and venial, D. Trump has ruined politics for me. No matter what happens from here on out, I’ll never again hold a healthy hatred in my heart for a run of the mill Republican.
Honest. America’s Caligula — or, as Samantha Bee has put it, America’s burst appendix — has become so loathsome that any future GOP candidate for any office will appear almost lovable compared to him. What could a Republican do that would make him less appealing than D. Trump? I suppose he’d have to pull a GG Allin on us and fling his feces at the crowd during his stump speeches. Then we could say, Well, at least Trump didn’t do that.
I hate to admit this but it’s come to the point where I now feel a sort of fuzzy nostalgia for the likes of George W. Bush and Ronald Reagan. I mean, I used to detest them. Now they’re like avuncular high school principals who I’d still do my best to avoid in the halls but, if forced to face one, I’d at least be civil. And then, several years later, over beers and a fatty with some old HS chums, we’d admit, Hey, y’know, old man so-and-so wasn’t so bad after all.
That’s how far down D. Trump has set the political odium bar.
How Low Can You Go?
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Silenced, Sort Of
So, anti-GMO and anti-vaxxer ideologues have succeeded in getting the NeuroLogica blog suspended from Facebook.
It seems scads of magic-believing, science-denying eye-rollers complained that Steven Novella, author of the fact-based medical blog, was a meanie because he — horrors — had the gall to counter their nonsensical arguments about the subjects to which they’ve dedicated their lives but, sadly, know next to nothing about.
Novella
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Novella’s a neurologist who has specialized in maladies like amyotrophic lateral sclerosis and myasthenia gravis. That alone doesn’t mean his views on any other topics should carry weight — just as Dr. Ben Carson’s expertise in brain surgery didn’t make him qualified to be President of the Untied States — but Novella has over the years built a rep as a leader in the skeptic movement through his thoughtful, well-researched pieces on trends in know-nothingness. He’s a professor at Yale University’s School of Medicine. He’s director of the James Randi Educational Foundation‘s Science-Based Medicine operation and is a Fellow for the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry. He teaches two Great Courses: Medical Myths, Lies, and Half Truths: What We Think We Know May Be Hurting Us and Your Deceptive Mind: A Scientific Guide to Critical Thinking Skills.
Natch, quacks like Drs. Joseph Mercola and Mehmet Oz think he’s Satan incarnate. Novella’s been sued by internist and dermatologist Edward Tobinik for debunking Tobonik’s use of peri-spinal etanercept injections to treat back pain and neurological conditions. A judge threw Tobinik’s suit out last September.
NeuroLogica itself remains open for business. It’s only the blog’s FB page that’s been given a 30-day time-out. Novella will continue to rant on NeuroLogica against silliness like homeopathy, AIDS denialism, near-death experience, intelligent design, and the avalanche of conspiracy theories that social media have fostered these last ten or so years, so that’s good.
What’s bad is the fetishistic democratization of social media that can allow large numbers of people to silence voices of reason. It’s the kind of thinking that has brought us the likes of D. Trump.
Jump in your car at 5:30 later this afternoon and tune your radio to WFHB’s Daily Local News. My revived Big Talk interview series continues this week with guest Cathi Crabtree.
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One of the Indiana 9th Congressional District’s delegates to the 2016 Democratic National Convention, Crabtree will explain how she became a hard-fightin’ feminist politico after being raised on a southern IN farm by an awfully conservative daddy-o and a mom who kept her aspirations for independence under wraps as long as the old man was alive.
Crabtree will describe her days as a delegate in Philly last week and we’ll even learn how the Party actually votes for a nominee.
Tonight’s DLN Feature will be about nine minutes long but I’ll put up my entire 65-minute gabfest with Cathi as a podcast on this communications colossus, sooner — fingers crossed — rather than later.
Congrats to Jar Turner for being named interim General Manager at WFHB. He told me yesterday he’s all in as a candidate for the permanent position.
Turner (L) With The Cat In The Hat™
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Personal to the WFHB Board of Directors: Don’t make the GM search such a comedy of errors this time, savvy? You don’t have to look three-quarters of the way across the continent for a station boss who just might be sitting under your nose right here in B-ton.
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Trump Dumps Trump?
For those of us who fear for the future of democracy due to the ascendance of D. Trump, the Republican Party’s burst appendix [h/t to Samantha Bee], here’s a neat little scenario that just might play out.
Trump entered this race on an ego-trip lark. That’s one thing we can all agree on. Surely even he’s not deluded enough to have thought, back in June, 2015, that he’d get the more than 13 million votes in the GOP primaries — the most votes ever cast for a Republican presidential aspirant. He couldn’t possibly have believed he’d be anointed the Party’s standard bearer.
My guess is he saw the race as a venue for him to pontificate, polish up his brand, and get huge crowds of people waving signs bearing his name at him which, to him, is so far superior to an orgasm that I’m willing to bet he hasn’t even touched Melanoma in nine months.
Acc’d’g to my slant, he figured he’d drop out sometime in March, before all the big primaries rolled around, and walk away from the ordeal with a “statesman” halo around whatever the hell that thing on his coconut is. He’d get his jollies from the adoring crowds, he’d make concrete connections within the Republican Party, and he’d get to tell the world how he — and he alone — could fix it.
Man, that’s an egomaniac’s wet dream. (Again, poor Melanoma.)
But even D. Trump couldn’t have foreseen the depths to which the idiocracy has descended. No observers were willing to acknowledge how many people in this holy land are filled with hate and rage, and certainly Trump wasn’t savvy and tuned in enough to know that either.
In fact, he didn’t even know his constituency would be based almost exclusively on the eternally aggrieved, the bitterly former middle class, and the detesters of brown people, specifically Arab Muslims. He only learned that as he began criss-crossing the country, throwing out little hints of his nativistic, xenophobic bushwa to which his crowds responded wildly. He success was a surprise even to himself, dig?
And the more his crowds threw love at him, the more tumescent he became. Hey, he no doubt stage-whispered to himself in the mirror one dark night, maybe I can win this thing!
This thing would be the presidency of the United States of America, a job D. Trump never had any aspirations of getting because, frankly, it would interfere with his business and lifestyle. But that ego-boost he got again and again from shrieking, blood-lusting, know-nothing, aging white people kicked his personality disorder into the highest gear his stick shift had ever found.
Next thing he knew, he was being crowned by the GOP at the Party’s hate- and fear-fest in Cleveland.
Time for another dark night tête à tête with the orange creature in the mirror. Do you really want to do this? he asked the tangerine image.
Came the response: Goddamn hell no!
So, when he went around trying to convince Republican pols to be his running mate, the (appropriately colored) carrot he dangled was the assurance that as vice president, they would actually be the de facto president in a Trump administration, for he was planning to travel the country — the world, for chrissakes — being the president who would be king. That would-be king would be blissfully unburdened by the grave responsibilities of the office. The first guy he offered the deal to, Ohio Gov. John Kasich, told him to take a hike. The second guy (I assume, unless their were other GOP-ers who respected the White House enough to give him the raspberry) was Indiana Gov. Mike Pence.
Our state’s guv long has been rumored to have his heart set on the Oval Office and, like many another desperate lover, he leapt at the opportunity to get it by hook, crook, or Trump.
Okay? So D. Trump’s all set. He’s got his satrap running mate. He’s got his wildly adoring throngs. He’s got the cachet of being first choice of +13 million bitter bastards. He’s on top of the world. Only he can’t stop being Trump.
He insults the grieving parents of a dead soldier. He insults a crying baby. He insults a fire marshall. He insults, for pity’s sake, Macy’s, calling for a boycott of the department store after it dropped his clothing line. Suddenly, he’s gone too far. I mean, a guy can call for an embargo on Muslim immigration to these shores, he can help railroad some juvenile delinquents for a brutal rape in Central Park, he can continue to wonder whether Presdient Obama is a citizen of the United States long after the sane among us have quashed that deranged movement, but, goddamn it, if he goes calling for a boycott of Macy, he’s gone too far!
Anyway, suddenly the outlook for a Trump non-presidency presidency looks bleak. The writing’s on the wall. Some Republicans with a half ounce of guts are pressuring him to quit. Hillary Clinton’s poll number look strong, post convention.
So, here’s my scenario: He drops out. Yeah. He says the election was going to be rigged, his own party is abandoning him, he will not subject his trophy spawn to the punishment any longer. He quits.
What happens next? Well, the Republican Party has emergency plans for just such a scenario. Stanford law professor Nathaniel Persily told The Daily Beast that one of the Party’s by-laws reads:
[T]he Republican National Committee is hereby authorized and empowered to fill any and all vacancies which may occur by reason of death, declination, or otherwise of the Republican candidate for President of the United States or the Republican candidate for Vice President of the United States.
Key word? Declination. D. Trump declines to go forward as the GOP nominee. Acc’d’g to Prof. Persily, the Republican National Committee would just select another candidate. It’s that simple.
Mike Pence, though, would remain on the ticket because he was chosen fair and square by a vote of the RNC at the convention after Trump tabbed him.
You wanna know who the RNC would pick to replace D. Trump? Why, none other than Paul Ryan, Ayn Rand’s boy-toy of Wisconsin.
And — guess what — Ryan would be a lot stronger candidate against Hillary.
Hmm.
Personal to D. Trump: Please don’t quit! We love you, man!
Eek. The planet’s most privileged and pestilent subspecies, Homo Sapiens freshmanensis, is once again infesting the heretofore pleasant streets of this throbbing megalopolis. (And you’ve been fretting about 17-year cicadas — hah!)
Yep, I just drove by the tall dorm on 3rd St. west of Jordan (the Forest Quad) and the long driveway and even the street itself are lined w/ shiny new SUVs driven by alabaster daddy-os and soccer moms, dropping off their trophy spawn along with all their vital belongings like vape rigs, pristine copies of the new Harry Potter title (just released for sale at midnight), and the latest wardrobe necessities from Lulu’s, American Eagle, and Charlotte Russe.
Hmm. I’m tempted to go find a dump truck-ful of LSD and dose our town’s water supply. I mean, if we have to put up with this mass migration, at least we should be somewhat entertained by it. And, besides, roofying the young-uns w/ acid can’t be worse than what the kiddies themselves are gonna put inside their bodies (in every sense of the term) this fall.
Oh, Honey, Our Little Girl’s All Grown Up Now!
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I’ll Give You Another Chance
Did you catch my interview with Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and Indiana U. Media School professor Tom French that aired this past Thursday on WFHB?
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If not, here it is. And — just a nagging reminder — in August B’ton’s online mag, Limestone Post, will be running my piece on Tom, his wife Kelley (also an ward-winning newspaper dame and IU prof) and their micro-preemie babelah, who is the subject of their forthcoming book, Juniper: The Girl Who Was Born Too Soon.
A-a-a-and, we’ll be running my entire 75-minute interview with Tom on this communications colossus as well as on WFHB’s site just as soon as I edit the track, cool by you?
Unus Plus Rei: I’ll be in the studio tomorrow night with delegate to the 2016 Democratic National Convention, Cathi Crabtree, taping this week’s Big Talk for a Thursday air date. Stay tuned, babies.
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Radio Gossip
WFHB, pretty much as usual, is in a state of high chaos these days as it seeks a new GM to replace outgoing boss Bertolt Sobolik. The community radio station also is trying to dig up three new board members since that number deserted the ship immediately prior and subsequent to Sobolik’s resignation.
I have it on unimpeachable authority that certain remaining board members have been begging long-ago GM Chad Carrothers to guide them through this current disarray. Not only that, there are those who wouldn’t be a bit displeased to see CC come down from Indy to take a seat on the board.
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Carrothers sent a jaw-droppingly frank written message to a high-ranking board emissary conveying the following opinions:
Any normal non-profit board that had allowed the misguided, unauthorized, and thoroughly unprofessional memo to Sobolik, criticizing him for imagined shortcomings and that led to his wish to get the hell out of the station’s 4th Street offices, would have resulted in a necessary and total board housecleaning
The current board president ought to resign forthwith and the board should call for an immediate electoral convention of station membership so as to elect an entirely new board
And, finally, CC advised the emissary to stop trying to drag him back into WFHB’s quagmire. Carrothers stated in no uncertain terms: Don’t try to contact me again.
Yee-ow!
I’ve been predicting Ivy Tech, the station’s landlord, will sooner rather than later take over WFHB’s operations. Insiders now tell me Ivy T. lacks the dough and the will to do so. That’s a shame; it seems a perfect fit.
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Costumes And Weird People
My old work pal Susie Taitel (we peddled cheese and wine together at the Evanston, Illinois, Whole Foods Market a decade ago) is a scifi and fantasy geek. So much so, she even creates her own works in those genres. She’s got a worthwhile take on the most recent Star Wars entry, Episode VII: The Force Awakens, that hit our holy land’s multiplexes last Xmas.
Me? I know nothing about SW and, honestly, couldn’t care less. Then again I dig baseball so that shows how skewed my cultural POV is.
In any case. Susie’s thoughts on whatever the cowboys and Indians in spaceships do on the big screen are worth your while if you, like her, eat that stuff up. Go to her blog for it, savvy?
Something Called “Admiral Ackbar”
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BTW: Did you know Morning Joe‘s Mika Brzezinski despises SW? Here she is ranting about Ep. 7 last November when only its trailer was available: “It is stupid. It is so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I can’t stand Star Wars. The costumes and the weird people.” That might be the first damned quote I’ve ever read from MoJo that I agree with.
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Thirsty?
A little teaser: You dig drinking water? Cool. Pay continued attention to these parts for info about a forthcoming big-assed story — penned by me, natch — re: our aqua. That is all.
So, it is done. Hillary has accepted her party’s nomination for President of the United States of America.
It’s about damned time, too, considering the fact that for the last few years the number of female heads of state on this weird planet has hovered around 20. As far as I can determine, more than 130 females have headed governments in positions ranging from president and prime minister to governor-general. This does not include female monarchs, which I never count anyway.
Today’s female leaders include:
Angela Merkel of Germany
Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf of Liberia
Johnson-Sirleaf
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Sheikh Hasina Wajed of Bangladesh
Dalia Grybauskaite of Lithuania
Dilma Rouseff of Brazil
Park Geun-hye of the Republic of Korea (South Korea)
Erna Solberg of Norway
Michelle Bachelet of Chile
Marie-Louise Coleiro Preca of Malta
Kolinda Grabar-Kitarovic of Croatia
There are more but if you expect me to research the leaders of all the countries on the Earth, you’d better pay me.
Now, here’s a weirdity: A lot of Trumpistas are pooh-poohing the significance of the Democrats putting Hillary forward as their standard-bearer. I heard one guy complain that the Dems are way too concerned with “anatomy.”
Well, consider me an political anatomist. Human beings born with vaginas have been relegated to an inferior status since our earliest ancestors put down their flint tools and decided to start governing themselves. Only in the 20th Century did Homo Sapiens sapiens begin to allow women to be their bosses in any appreciable numbers.
And it’s taken this “beacon of hope” nation 240 years to even allow a woman a shot at the presidency. I get the feeling that people being overly concerned with anatomy is nothing at all new.
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Spell-check
Naturally, when any group finally throws off the chains of repression, the gang that had kept them in the iron bracelets has apoplexy. It’s no different now that Hillary is knocking at the door of the White House.
Some of Hillary’s greatest detractors have conjured some decidedly non-affectionate nicknames for her of late, including “Shillery,” “Killery,” and, one I just learned last night, “Hitlery.”
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Personal to all those moniker-bestowers: The woman’s name is Hillary. Got it? Hillary. Not Hillery. It’s an A, not an E.
Of course, few Trump followers can accurately portray themselves as experts in spelling or any of the other complicated and challenging sciences.
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Hit Man
The New York Daily Newsreports that D. Trump has said this about some of his detractors who spoke at the Dem Convention this week:
I wanted to hit a couple of those speakers so hard. I would have hit them. I was going to hit them so hard, I was all set, and then I got a call from a highly respected governor:
“How’s it going, Donald?”
I said, “Oh, it’s going good but they’re really saying bad things about me. I’m going to hit them so hard!”
I was going to hit this one guy in particular, a very little guy. I was going to hit this guy so hard his head would spin. He wouldn’t know what the hell happened.”
His audience for these remarks was a bunch of Trumpistas in Davenport, Iowa. They interrupted his rant several times with cheering.
Trump Mugging In Davenport
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Saner folk are tut-tutting this latest Trumpian outburst of pre-adolescent gibberish. Some are saying, Hey, let’s make sure everybody who digs Trump hears about this! It’ll surely change their minds about him.
Me? I say let’s keep this under out hats. See, Trumpistas are gaga for this kind of verbal spewing. This tough guy talk makes them worship him even more.
If you think the emergence of Trump as a leader is the worst thing ever to happen in this holy land, you are wrong. It’s the existence since our inception of the type of people who swoon over his ignorant, petty, hateful, violent bullshit.
(BTW: How much do you want to bet the “highly respected governor” he refers to is either his organ grinder’s monkey, Chris Christie, or his house whitey, Mike Pence. Either way, “highly respected” might be the most outlandish verbiage he employed in a superlatively outlandish speech.)
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When The Mustache Fits
It occurs to me that our promiscuous use of Hitler’s name to denigrate leaders we disagree with has made it nearly impossible for anyone to do so and be taken seriously when such a comparison is actually called for. Like, y’know, now.
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Great Names; Big Show
I was exchanging pleasantries with the lovely and talented Constance Furey — isn’t that a great name? — Religious Studies prof at Indiana University and the wife of guitarist extraordinaire Jason Fickel — another great name; how fortuitous the two got together! — yesterday afternoon at this communications colossus’s back office, Hopscotch Coffee. Furey pressed a palm card into my hand as she bade me goodbye. I figured, this being election season, it was of a political nature but no.
It was a postcard flogging Jason and Ginger Curry‘s big CD release show at the Waldron Arts Center, Saturday, August 6, at 8pm. (And what about her name? Two indispensable spices in many of the world’s cuisines.)
Ginger And Jason
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Anyway, get yourself over to the Waldron for their celebration. Their special guest will be our town’s own singer/storyteller Tom Roznowski so the $5 ducat price will be a steal.
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More Name-Gaming
Since meeting Furey several years ago at the Book Corner, the roster of women I’ve met whose names are based on higher human characteristics now includes:
Constance Furey
Temperance (Tempi) Touhy
Providence (Penny) Farella
Honor Finnegan
In addition, I know:
Zaineb (Arabic for “the lord has remembered”) Istrabadi
Chase (a Chicago side street and my niece) Finkelstein
Atefeh (Arabic for “affection” or “emotion”) Rahimpour, known by her friends as Ati.
Kiddies, y’gotta grab for your fun anywhere you can.
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July 29th Birthdays
Alexis de Tocqueville — Author of the definitive two-volume observation of culture in the newly-formed United States entitled Democracy in America, he was a French-born political scientist and diplomat. The American ideal of equality (albeit for white men) would lead to a mediocrity wherein citizens would reject any intellectual “elite.” Americans’ refusal to accept those whose intellects were superior must stifle independent, rational thought, he wrote. Apparently, he also was a great seer into the future.
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Max Nordau — Born Simcha Südfeld in what is now known as Budapest, Hungary, he was an extreme moralist, physician, and co-founder with Theodor Herzl of the World Zionist Organization. An orthodox Jew, he forcefully decried the modern world of the end of the 19th Century, aiming barbs famously at the homosexual Oscar Wilde of whom he wrote, “Wilde loves immorality, sin, and crime.” The Dreyfus Affair convinced Nordau that Europe’s anti-semitism was a growing danger — he had personally witnessed crowds outside the École Militaire shouting “Death to the Jews.”
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Booth Tarkington — The Indianapolis-born author of The Magnificent Ambersons and Alice Adams, for which he won two Pulitzer Prizes. He was a proud Midwesterner whose novels were set in Indiana. He also served a term in the Indiana House of Representatives.
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Maria Ouspenskaya — Russian-born actor and acting teacher, she came to the United States at the age of 48 when the Moscow Art Theater travelled to New York City, where she elected to live. She gained fame in American movies playing an aging and then elderly woman and was referred to by Holly Golightly in Truman Capote’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s: “Not that I give a hoot about jewelry. Diamonds, yes. But it’s tacky to wear diamonds before you’re forty; and even that’s risky. They only look right on the really old girls. Maria Ouspenskaya. Wrinkles and bones, white hair and diamonds.”
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Benito Mussolini — Role model for D. Trump.
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I.I. Rabi — Born Israel Isaac Rabi (he later changed his name to Isador) in the Galacia territory of Austria-Hungary. A Nobel Prize-winning physicist, he served as a consultant to the Manhattan Project. He was present at the Trinity test. The physicists there had a betting pool to determine how big the world’s first nuclear explosion would be. Rabi was the last to enter the pool, selecting the only remaining box — 18 kilotons. The Trinity test resulted in an explosion of 22k magnitude; Rabi’s box was the closest to that figure.
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Dag Hammarskjöld — The Second secretary-general of the United Nations, Hammarskjöld was born in Jönköping, Sweden, and had served as a key implementer of the Marshall Plan, revitalization Europe after World War II, before his election to the UN top post. It’s claimed by the LGBTQ community that he was gay, although no definitive proof exists. In 1961, Hammarskjöld was flying aboard a DC-6 airliner that crashed in what is now Zambia in a peace-keeping mission. He and 15 others died in the crash. Many observers believe the plane had been shot down by unspecified combatants in the Katanga secession battle against the republic of Congo-Leopoldville. Others suggest the plane was bombed in an assassination attempt sanctioned by the CIA, Britain’s M15, and the South African intelligence service at the behest of Union Minière and other mining corporations that had vested interests in the Katanga secession.
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Elizabeth Short — Known as “The Black Dahlia,” the discovery of her surgically mutilated corpse in a vacant lot in Los Angeles in 1947, inspired numerous novels, short stories, and films noir.
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Ken Burns — Historical documentarian whose works as a director include The Civil War, Baseball, Jazz, The National Parks: America’s Best Idea, Prohibition, The Central Park Five, and The Roosevelts. He produced the documentary Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies. He has recently spoken out forcefully against the election of Donald Trump as president.
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On this date in 1897, Vincent Van Gogh died. The 2100 or so works of art he produced in his lifetime were largely ignored until after his death. Van Gogh suffered from mental illnesses including severe depression, delusions, and hallucinations. After one particular stretch of psychosis, he shot himself in the chest with a pistol in a wheat field he’d recently painted. The bullet had been deflected by a rib and caused no appreciable damage to his vital organs. He walked back home and seemed to have survived the injury in surprisingly good health. The wound became infected, though, and he died 29 hours after shooting himself. His last words, acc’d’g to his brother Theo, were, “The sadness will last forever.”
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Oh great, now I have an excuse to post a vid of one of the prettiest songs I can think of:
So, the coronation of Queen Hillary ensues this evening. The speeches in support of her have been magnificent and stirring. Barack Obama has proved himself to be a man of great character and a president of historical import. His speech last night was merely the latest bit of evidence of that.
Aw, hell, let’s bathe in the warm glow of his words once again, shall we:
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I’m almost as pumped about the Hillary nom as I was when BHO himself was crowned the Dem leader in 2008. The difference is, a woman president has seemed an inevitability for years now. For pity’s sake, back in 2007 or so, the idea of a black President of the United States was a ludicrous fantasy. Or so I thought.
Anyway, Hill now goes on to protect the world from a Trump presidency, which would be the death knell of the democratic (small D) dream.
Our intrepid correspondent, Indiana Congressional 9th District delegate Cathi Crabtree has been running herself ragged at the convention. The TV eye has caught her a few times, demonstrating from her seat. For instance, she was espied waving a “Love Trumps Hate” placard by the camera just as former astronaut Mark Kelly intro’d his wife, gunshot victim and former Congressperson Gabby Giffords, last night.
PBS Catches Cathi Crabtree In Motion
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Here’s her report, filed at 8:00am today:
I’m running on little sleep so I hope this is somewhat coherent.
From last night: Too many amazing things happening. I was unable to keep up with the tweeting. One thing after another.
I just have to say I’m so over the “Bernie or Bust” folks. Do they want to be part of the party or not? The disrespect shown to speakers was very frustrating for me. If that happens tonight I will be really pissed.
A FB post from a [real life] friend: “Even though I have opposing political views from my classmate Cathi Crabtree, I have thoroughly enjoyed her posts from the Democratic National Convention. I am glad she is having such a wonderful experience. Congratulations, Cathi, on being a delegate for “the Dark Side” (lol).
I received this message from another friend (and crying once again because it’s so sweet): “The first time I met you I knew there was something special about you. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. [My friend] and I both talk about how much we love you because you’re so sweet and respectful and full of life. Seeing all your posts lately, I can now put my finger on why you are so special. You are just an amazing human being who loves and respects all. I’m so proud of you for what you are doing for this country. Your every post makes me know there is hope!”
I get the feeling there’s a lot more bonhomie than animosity at the convention, despite what CC says about the inflexible wing of the party. And, BTW, that wing of the party really is not a wing at all. Bernie’s followers would have been happier had he staged a third party run for the presidency, rather than trying to jump aboard a party bandwagon he’d thumbed his nose at for so many years. I don’t mean that to slam the candidate. In fact, I’m thrilled he ran as a Dem because his success has moved the party back where it belongs — toward the left.
So, Hillary makes her case tonight as the first major party woman candidate for the presidency. It feels awfully good to type those words.
My WFHB interview features under the clever brand, Big Talk, are back! Resuscitated, revived, rejuvenated — hell, they’re alive and kicking, just like Juniper French. Big Talk’s first re-appearance will be this evening on the 5:30pm Daily Local News on ‘FHB, 91.3 and 98.1 in Blooomington, 100.7 in Nashville (IN), and 106.3 in Ellettsville.
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My guest tonight will be Tom French, Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter for the Tampa Bay Times who now teaches in the Media School at Indiana University. He and his wife, Kelley Benham French, have written a new book entitled Juniper: The Girl Who Was Born too Soon, due out September 13th, 2016.
Tom & Juniper
[Image: Tampa Bay Times/Kelley Benham]
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Juniper’s five years old now and just days away from starting kindergarten but she was born a micro-preemie after only 23 weeks of gestation, as Tom puts it, at the very limit of human viability outside the womb. The book is the story of Tom and Kelley’s relationship and their struggle to keep the young ‘un alive. It’s a beautiful book and I highly recommend you come into the Book Corner or your local bookseller and pick up one or three. The book was inspired by Kelley’s multipart series on Juniper’s birth and battle for life in the Tampa Bay Times, for which she was nominated and eventually became a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize herself.
Kelley & Juniper
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If you miss the feature tonight (it should run at about 5:45pm) you can catch it on the WFHB website. I’ll also be posting the entire 75-minute interview on this communications colossus. Not only that, the Bloomington region’s new online magazine, Limestone Post, will run a piece, written by me, natch, in August. We’ve got the Frenches — and Juniper — covered from all angles, baby!
Future Big Talks include delegate to the 2016 Democratic National Convention, Cathi Crabtree, next week and Adria Nassim, autism lecturer and educator, the week after.
This just in from The Pencil’s intrepid correspondent, Indiana 9th Congressional District delegate to the 2016 Democratic National Convention, Cathi Crabtree:
6:45am. Hit snooze. Can it possibly be time to start Day Three of the Convention already?
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Deep Feelings
Yesterday’s events and the emotions they spawned would have exhausted anybody. CC reported last night:
I met a Texas delegate who shared stories about Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Texas), and the new Congressional Caucus on Black Women and Girls, and Congresswoman Maxine Waters (D-California). The Texas delegate pointed out how Jackson Lee had Hillary’s back throughout the ridiculous Benghazi hearings. She said she had always admired Sheila Jackson Lee but seeing the support she gave the former Secretary of State only increased her admiration and respect.
Women must stick together and we do! I shared information about my “Bitch, please!” T-shirt and she seemed eager to get one for herself.
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The connections here have been phenomenal. Just what I wanted — sharing time and excitement with like-minded individuals.
I was overwhelmed with emotions so many times last night: I was relieved that both Bernie and Hillary supporters respected each other during roll call; I really appreciated Bernie calling for acclamation when Vermont’s turn came up; I was touched by Bernie’s brother’s appearance; I felt joy for finally nominating not just the first woman presidential candidate but one I have respected and admired for years; I was grateful for having the privilege to be a part of history.
And I miss my mom, who died almost exactly a year ago and who loved Hillary.
The celebration was thrilling. The thousands of Democrats in the arena acknowledged the historic nature of the nomination. We felt grateful for what this truly remarkable woman has accomplished in her life. She sees problems, especially social justice issues, and she figures out how to solve them.
I loved hearing the roll call, with each state in the Union highlighting what they’re proud of.
It was a truly amazing day and night. I’m so happy I could be there!
Politics is such a bizarre game. Our intrepid correspondent Cathi Crabtree’s traveling partner, fellow delegate Martha Hilderbrand, tells us:
Pro Hillary signs that are made to look hand made by supporters are being handed out by the DNC.
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History!
Bernie’s not the only one who bawled tonight in Philadelphia’s Wells Fargo Center. Our Cathi Crabtree joined in the hankie-fest while Bill Clinton spoke of his wife, Hillary Rodham Clinton, the Democratic Party’s 2016 nominee for President of the United States. Here’s CC’s report:
“Going to cry!”
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Duh, What?
BTW: I caught a glimpse of one of the protesters outside the convention hall carrying a sign that read “A Vote for Hillary Is a Vote for Trump.”
I love Bernie; a lot of his most rabid fans, though, I can do without.
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Hillary Supporter
Bernie’s words last night gave me the kind of goosebumps I haven’t felt in years. Indulge me, as I list a few great lines here:
“Not just bombast, not just fearmongering….”
“Hillary Clinton understands….”
“The greed of the drug companies must end.”
“…our diversity is one of our greatest strengths.”
“…the most progressive platform in the history of the Democratic Party.”
Sanders, Making A Point Last Night
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Say what you will about the primaries and the battle between Hillary and Bernie for the soul of the party, the Democrats are awfully goddamned lucky to have both of them in the tent.
Y’know, all this talk comparing D. Trump to A. Hitler is terribly unfair — at least the Führer had enough intelligence to write his own book.
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High Hopes
Kudos to Cory, Michelle, Sens. Warren & Franken. Bernie Sanders comes out in full-throat to support Hillary. All great things. Let’s hope corporate media doesn’t decide to fixate on the booing some tantrum-y Bernie-ites masturbatorially engaged in last night inside and outside the arena.
So far, so good
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Cathi’s Communiques
This, at about 11;45 last night, just after Bernie’s thrilling speech.
Atmosphere was not good in the hall tonight.
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And then her communications devices ran out of juice. She — as well as her phones, pads, and other connections to the universe — should be recharged this AM. More to come.
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Bernie Backer
CC’s traveling pal, Jeanne Smith, OTOH, must have been swooning over Bernie’s oration. Beforehand, though, journalists of many stripes and and nationalities swooned and swarmed her for her views:
Today I was interviewed by a French journalist, a Chinese one, NPR, and some unknown radio station. I was invited to film a Colbert skit tomorrow.
Media Darling
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Conspiracy Theory #googol
Do you buy the story that the Russians hacked the DNC’s computers and intentionally released the emails that humiliated the Party and its outgoing chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz last week?
C-SPAN cameras were scanning the crowd at Philly’s Wells Fargo Center earlier this evening and they lighted on this member of the most-decidely-not-mainstream media, The Pencil’s very own correspondent, Indiana 9th District delegate Cathi Crabtree.
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Man, it’s like Dan Rather on the floor of the International Amphitheater at the ’68 Convention, or Bill Maher and Arianna Huffington at those ’90s conventions. The Pencil, a global communications colossus!
