Mystification

I should probably wait to write about this until I've had some time to mull it over, but...so I get home from a River Run screening ("Then She Found Me" - excellent, go see it ASAP) and I'm checking up on the NFL draft, and I see that, with their first pick, the Panthers go with...

A running back. A running back. Because that's obviously the team's greatest need, considering that A) we just drafted DeAngelo Williams at RB what, two frakin' years ago, and B) our D-line has evaporated like early morning mist on a summer day. And the "C" items - O-line and defensive secondary - that are such perennial issues that they hardly bear mentioning...oh no, running back. That's the way to go. What are we, the Detroit Lions, with their wide reciever draft fetish?

I'm totally speechless right now. Even reading that we also got an offensive tackle in Round One is minimal consolation. I'm officially not happy. Not happy at all.

(Seriously........a f*cking running back???????) (Further seriously........from OREGON? Have you SEEN their outfits??????)

Hopefully I'll post more on this when I'm prepared to be articulate...

Quick update...

Apparently, I've turned into one of those "after the primary" people. As in, "I can't hang out 'til after the primary," or, "Let's talk about it after the primary," etc. It makes sense for someone who's actually volunteering for one campaign or another to have no life right now. I'm restricting my activities to the party, for now, so I guess my excuse is just that I'm lame.

Okay, I kid...so actual party politics may not be consuming my life right now, but it seems like everything else in my life has naturally developed a deadline that miraculously coincides with May 6. My uncle's wedding. The spring edition of the historical association's newsletter. Spring alumni magazine. Commencement. Let's just say that, after Primary Tuesday, the various Democratic candidates won't be the only ones with a little more time on their hands.

Speaking of politics...I went to a Roy Carter for Congress rally yesterday (Carter's the guy who's going to free us from the Bush-kissing racist insanity of Virginia Foxx), and I met Jim Dean (Howard's older brother), who was there to endorse Carter on behalf of Democracy for America. I've gotten used to political figures who swoop in for five minutes of speechifying under the protection of body-guards. Dean spoke to just about everyone there, and I do mean spoke. We had an honest-to-goodness awkward-pauses-and-all conversation. He kind of reminded me of Richard Dreyfuss. Not that the resemblence was that strong...but Dreyfuss could play him in a movie.

All for now. I'll try to write more later, but I really am pretty swamped until after...well, you know.

The female Kasey Kahne

They call this driver a natural-born racer ... but for the first chunk of the driver's career in the "big leagues," the "racer" seemed like a better fit for Madison Avenue than for Victory Lane. It used to be that a race car driver had to pick up fans the old-fashioned way - winning - before the big bucks started rolling in. For ever person in the garage who raved about the driver's talent, three more in the stands gushed over how the driver filled out a fire suit.

There's a reason I'm avoiding gender pronouns here. I could be talking about NASCAR's Kasey Kahne, or I could be talking about Indy Racing League's Danica Patrick. Or I could be talking about both of them.

Patrick won her first IRL race Sunday, becoming the first woman to do so (after previously becoming the first woman to score a top-five in the Indy 500 in her rookie season). It's her fourth season, but only her fiftieth start, thanks to IRL's wussy short season. Kahne won at Richmond in his second series in the Whateverthey'recallingittoday Cup Series, but it was actually his forty-sixth start.

Obviously, merely being able to finish a race in either series is an accomplishment, let alone winning. So I really don't want to sound like I'm denigrating either driver's talent. No one who's ever watched them would do that.

But ... both Patrick and Kahne are, to me anyway, symptomatic of a worsening problem in pro racing - particularly NASCAR - that emphasizes flash over substance. It drove me batsh*t crazy back during Kahne's rookie year when he was regularly treated like he was on the same level as past champions Jeff Gordon or Tony Stewart, when he had yet to win a single race. And don't even get me started on those creepy Allstate commercials...

[Except to say, I don't care how much money they're paying you, Kasey. WTF were you thinking when you did this? If your contract says you must humiliate yourself to this extent, then buddy, you need a new contract.]

And speaking of gross and creepy, remember the ad Patrick did for GoDaddy.com that was so off the rails they wouldn't even air it during the Super Bowl? As long as I'm still living on the same planet where that happened, I don't want to hear a single person accuse me of selling out the sisterhood. Danica, you don't get to pull that crap and then complain that the boys don't take you seriously.

Because, if the comments from other IRL drivers are any indication, it sounds like they do. Sure, Robby Gordon may bitch that your car is lighter than his, but he bitches about everything. He's Robby Gordon. Besides, have you seen him lately? Dude, whose car isn't lighter than Robby Gordon's?

But, two things - a) NASCAR has a weight restriction in every one of its series, IIRC. If the heaviest driver weighs 250 lbs., then the driver who weighs 150 lbs. has to add 100 lbs. of weight to his car. (If you can stash the extra poundage on the right side, all the better.) That increased downforce in corners has jack to do with the "car of tomorrow" - it's all thanks to Tony Stewart and his momma's cooking, mark my words. ;)

Second ... how often did you ever hear Jackie Robinson complain publicly about the crap he had to put up with as the first, and most prominent African American in Major League Baseball? I'm not saying Patrick should be a good little girl and just take it when ass-hats like former Formula One CEO Bernie Ecclestone call her and other women "appliances."

But the best way to quiet people like that is to let your performance speak for itself. Leave it on the track. Not your GoDaddy blog. You want to shut me up? Keep winning.

That goes for you, too, Kasey. And for the love of all that is holy, run over those Allstate stalker-chicks, will you?

UPDATE: Yes, I saw Gene Wojciechowski's column the other day on ESPN.com. And no, I didn't really care. He misses the point. Of course I have a certain measure of respect for anyone who straps herself or himself into a race car. But if winning doesn't matter, then what the hell is the point? The parallel he tries to draw between Patrick and Kansas coach Bill Self is totally fallacious - he's equating an NCAA men's tournament championship with a single frakin' IRL win. Not buying it. Sorry.

Your straw man's got a gimpy leg, Gene.

More sunny news out of Iraq

Interesting article on a demonstration at the European Union headquarters held today, which hoped to draw attention to persecution of Christians in Iraq.

This isn't something I'd thought a lot about until last year, when an Iraqi Christian minister (I want to say he was Presbyterian...) spoke to a class at Salem. Listening to him was absolutely heartbreaking. He talked about how, when Saddam Hussein was still in power, Christians in Iraq were pretty much left alone. Not that Saddam was pro-Christian...It was more that, being the shrewd dictator that he was, Saddam understood that a healthy Christian minority counter-balanced the Shia majority, so that the Sunni Muslims could stay in power more easily.

(Side rant: Saddam's dictatorship was secular. Al-Qaeda are fundie radicals. So, you know, not people who would logically EVER work together, no matter how bad Bush/Cheney, et al, would like to pretend they would. It would be like if Bill Maher and Pat Robertson joined forces. Just sayin'.)

I'm not at all suggesting that the world is not a better place with Saddam gone. But the plight of Christians in Iraq today - regularly targeted by the Islamic fundamentalists largely kept down during Saddam's regime - is one of the many subtleties that this administration (not to mention the media) glossed over in the run-up to the war. Read this article from Christian World News for more.

Some 30,000 Christians have fled Iraq since 2003, when this war started. Most of them, according to the minister that I heard speak, end up in Egypt or other Middle Eastern countries, where Christians may or may not be exactly embraced. It's hard for them to be granted asylum in the U.S., because that would involve our government admitting that Iraq is unsafe for them in the long-term...something this administration can't do for political reasons.

I hope you're not looking for me to lay out a quick solution to this, because I don't have one. As badly as I want every American soldier out of the quagmire in Iraq yesterday, I can't help thinking about how the withdrawal would affect the lives of ordinary, non-whackjob fundie Iraqis like that minister, who spoke movingly of how much worse things would be if not for the protection of our military there. Like I said, it absolutely breaks my heart.

Best. Blog Thread. Ever.

"Internetz anonymoity, I no has it animore. Kthxbai."

With this LOL Cat-inspired comment, so begins what might be the best thread in the history of the Internet. It might even beat the legendary Football Outsiders ROBO-Punter thread. Seriously.

So, basically, Feministing.com gets lots and lots of hate mail. Every so often, they'll post a hate e-mail or two for the viewing pleasure of their readers. Yesterday's "Anti-Feminist Mail Bag" had a twist - the hater made the mistake of sending it from his school e-mail address, rather than an anonymous one. Oops.

So now we know (in addition to his complete inability to punctuate) his name (Alex Kochno), where he goes to school, that his MySpace and Facebook profile pics are fug and - best part - that he's the public relations officer for the Southern Illinois University College Republicans. I mean, the post practically writes itself, doesn't it?

Now, something like this is pretty much guaranteed to entertain ("You guys got flamed by Ron Burgundy!") and to provide a certain amount of the guilty, mildly vicious pleasure that comes with schadenfreude (that's German for "Nelson-laugh," btw). But what really puts this over the top is the fact that other reps from that College Republicans chapter showed up to post.

It's not the flame-war you'd expect, from either side. A couple of CR officers offer sincere apologies and roundly condemn Kochno and his actions. Not a wimpy non-apology apology, either. They completely and totally throw themselves at the mercy of the other posters...who then don't flame them in return. It's all quite civil, actually. One leaves the comments section with a feeling that something productive happened, and will continue to happen, in the lives of the students involved.

Big, giant, applause-y kudos to the SIU College Republicans and their adviser, who handled the situation swiftly and professionally, with zero of the spin-or-cover-up style of crisis management popularized in political circles over the last few decades. Maybe there's hope for us yet...

(Oh, and kids? Don't drink and surf. It never ends well.)

Young Dems convention, Part II

(at long last...)

The opening ceremonies were supposed to have taken place in the auditorium, but for some reason they’ve been moved to the hallway/concourse where all the campaign tables are set up. I’m cool with that...counting the car ride, I’ve been sitting for three hours now. Standing is totes fine by me.

There are all kinds of cute boys around. Usually, when I see an attractive guy, I check out the left ring finger to see if he’s available. But, this being the Young Dems convention, a bare wedding-ring finger isn’t enough. We Dems proudly support civil rights for people regardless of sexual orientation, which is great…but it means that I have to establish availability on multiple fronts, if you know what I mean. The Young Republican women just don’t have to deal with this stuff. *sigh*

So they’re introducing various candidates in attendance…which I don’t completely understand, since a few hours from now I’ll have to sit through stump speeches by everyone from Senate candidate to agriculture secretary. I understand the idea – Candidate A is here now and might not be later, so go for it. Which is how I end up standing in the concourse listening to an impassioned speech by state auditor hopeful Beth Wood. Incredibly, this seat is contested in the primary. Even more incredibly, Wood tells us she’s on the way to Hamlet, N.C., to see about an endorsement. Candidates for state auditor get endorsements??? I’m learning more about politics by the minute.

The funny thing is that Wood has massively more charisma than any other candidate I’ve seen here so far. When she stares me down (and she’s tall, too) and says that she’s my “best opportunity to take back the office of State Auditor,” I believe her, you know? I’m fired up about State Auditor. Capital F-U.

I get a mild funny when someone from the Young Dems starts reeling off the list of candidates who are here, or will be here, today. Surprisingly, the mention of John Edwards gets kind of a tepid “WOOooo……” whereas Jim Neal, trying to fight off Kay Hagan for the right to fight off Elizabeth Dole for U.S. Senate, gets Bono-level cheers. When Neal first announced, I was skeptical: no political experience vs. a state office-holder, btw a personal orientation that I find completely irrelevant, but that every news story on him feels compelled to mention…Now, I wonder if a high turn-out of progressive Obama voters in the primary can help him. Also, Neal has spent the last several months totally barnstorming the state. Wherever two or more of you are gathered in the Democrats’ name, Jim Neal will be there to ask you what you want from your Senator. I gotta say, the guy’s got a shot.

After the “ceremony,” I swing by the Obama table. Time for another “state of how people actually feel” reality check: they are completely out of T-shirts and bumper stickers; they actually have a waiting list for buttons. Seriously. All this table offers are a couple of pleasantly overwhelmed, yet competent, volunteers and a dozen hand-outs on various issues. Being fresh from the session on peer-to-peer networking, I know that young voters, e.g. Me, really don’t have much use for the glossy slogan-y tri-fold brochures popular with campaigns the world over. We prefer actual information – no matter how text-heavy and graphically unpleasing it may be – so that we can come to our own conclusions. The Obama hand-outs are one and two pages long, dense with policy bullet-points. The Hillary stuff is glossy and slogan-filled. Hmm.

On my way through the gallery, I’m mugged by a sticker-wielding guy from the Bev Perdue for Governor campaign. Sticker Boys (and Girls) are the folks who jump out at you asking if you want to plaster a button-sized sticker on your person. At this point, I’m still uncommitted in the gov race, so I’m trying to remain de-stickered…this will change in a few hours, but not soon enough to vindicate Sticker Boy.

Oops, time for Session II. I select “Chapter Building” because as chapter VP, I’m meant to be concerned with outreach, etc. I make my way to the appropriate room (which hasn’t been changed at the last minute, to my knowledge). Just in case, I check with the other YDs gathered there – “Are you here for chapter building? Good.” – and take a seat. One of the people in this session is the YD president of the Guilford County chapter, Malcolm, whom I know because he’s a senior at Guilford. I’ve always been mildly impressed with Malcolm, because he’s not just an officer, but president of the county YDs, not to mention being involved with a million other things on campus, whereas when I was a college senior I pretty much devoted my energy to merely graduating. Remember his name, folks, really.

So, after my morning session I’m all pumped to learn about how to apply my new peer-to-peer networking skills to building chapter membership and all…and instead I get this pleasant Power Point presentation from a state staffer on the “Constructing Victory” campaign…which is really cool, and exceptionally organized, for a bunch of Democrats. The problem is, I’ve already heard all this. I want to talk about chapter building. I start to look around, anxious. Maybe I’m in the wrong banquet room after all…?

Then they open it up for the Q&A. Good ol’ Malcolm is first up. “Are we going to talk about chapter building?” he says. “Because I’ve heard this speech before.” The rest of the room murmurs assent. The chipper staffer looks like she just smelled a fart.

“I have to confess, I don’t know why they called this session ‘chapter building,’’’ she says. Great. I'm paging Will Rogers again....

So basically the restless natives took over after that. During the PPT, I got so bored I spent a good 10 minutes searching the carpet after I accidentally flicked off the lid of my complementary pen. The Q&A was way more productive, mainly because the “audience” turned away from the PPT screen and toward each other. There was a guy who’d done canvassing for Heath Shuler in the last election, which got me all excited because that district is pretty rural once you get out of Asheville. There was the high school kid from Raleigh – North Raleigh, the “red” part – needing tips about how on earth you organize when you think you’re the only Dem in a sea of Republicans (answer: you’re probably not). There was lots of exchange about how to start high school chapters.

So the session was productive, though maybe not in the way intended by the organizers. I guess I could feel frustrated…but I don’t. The people who went to that session wanted to talk about chapter building, and by God we talked about chapter building. I left feeling strangely encouraged – these people are fired up, with a capital F-U, from North Raleigh to Shuler-ville. As we rural types of both “red” and “blue” persuasion like to say… WOO-HOO!

Now it’s on to the governor’s forum, lunch, Carville and Edwards…

Early Morning, April 4

Forty years ago today, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered in Memphis, Tenn.

In my lifetime, King has been mythologized as the innocuous peace-monger on whom we did book reports, whose birthday we celebrated as a day off from school or work. It’s worth remembering a time when King was widely thought, even by pro-civil rights Liberals, as a troublesome radical.

Lots of people name King as a martyr for American freedom. Those men and women who firmly believe King was murdered (with the complicity of the FBI) because he told truth to power are largely marginalized are cast as divisive hate-speakers. Those of us assigning those book reports to our elementary school students gloss over King’s indictments of U.S. involvement in Vietnam.

This is what I know. I go back to, not 40 years to Dr. King’s murder, but 45 years to his speech at the March on Washington, the speech that stands in the history of American oratory with the Gettysburg Address, when he put forth a dream in which, he said, people would be “judged not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

I imagine men and women of every race standing in the heat of August on the Mall before the Lincoln Monument, and those watching on TV, listening to Dr. King’s hopeful vision. I imagine them cynical, like me. I imagine them listening to his dream, hoping that it would come true, but knowing in their heart of hearts that freedom would never really come, that things would never really change.

And then I see a biracial man taking the lead in the race for the Democratic nomination for the presidency of the United States. Did the people listening to Dr. King’s speech imagine this would happen in their lifetime? Forty years in the desert.

“My Lord, My God.” In this, I quote a black minister here in Winston-Salem who, this week, I heard say that he was every day re-evaluating his perception of the maturity of America’s white voters, because in voting for Barack Obama we’re proving his cynicism wrong.

My Lord, My God. I pray every day that the citizens of this country that I love more than my life can grow to earn my love. That we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. That we will vote – and live – based on conscience, rather than color. That we will cease to care about such superficialities.

This is one white girl who believes in that vision from the mountain-top.

[For some reason, that line in the U2 song "Pride (In the Name of Love)" ("Early morning, April 4/shot rings out in the Memphis sky/Free at last, they took your life/They could not take your pride") gets the time wrong. King died at 6:01 p.m. What, "Early evening" didn't sound right? They were going on Dublin time? Who knows...]

NC Young Democrats Convention, part 1

[Got to love spring migraines and general procrastination…better late than never, right?]

It’s 6 a.m. on a Saturday, and for some reason I’m awake. I figure that I need to leave my house by 7:20 at the latest in order to make it to the Sheraton in “Research Triangle Park” (a.k.a. some civic no-man’s land between Durham and Raleigh) in time to register for the state Young Democrats convention. Note: I am SO NOT a morning person. But I am a procrastinating person. Which is why, instead of rolling out of bed two hours from now (after having driven to my sister’s apartment in Raleigh on Friday night) I’m slamming my “snooze” button at 6 a.m. on a frickin’ Saturday.

I have to talk myself into it – James Carville! John Edwards! Chelsea Clinton! You’re the frickin’ vice president of the Forsyth County Young Dems! What the hell else are you going to do today? asks my inner voice. Wake up four hours from now and eat a Pop-Tart, I reply. Ah, bullshit, the inner voice says. Get your ass out of bed and go represent.

So, half asleep, I burn a CD with every song I’ve downloaded in the last week – which is why I roll into Raleigh to the tune of Led Zepplin giving way to Melanie…don’t ask – hit Biscuitville and head downstate.

I’m a little anxious because I never actually printed out the directions to the Sheraton Imperial. I just wrote down the exit number and looked at GoogleMaps for 30 seconds or so. Fortunately for me, Exit Ramp 282 leads directly into the parking lot, which is also helpfully marked with signs for everyone who ever thought about running for any office anywhere. It’s not possible that I could be anywhere but the North Carolina State Young Democrats Convention. (Note to the Hillary Clinton campaign people…might want to rethink that sign location right next to the stop sign…unless you really do want people to “STOP Hillary Clinton for President.”)

The registration fee is $25. I’ve got $40 in cash. Now, I’m not a terribly intuitive person, but I had what I can only describe as doubts to the capability of the people at the registration table. Thanks to my line of work, I’ve stood in line at my share of registration tables. It can be a madhouse – people who’ve pre-registered, walk-ins (like me), no one knowing where they’re going. The registration table is where you want your A Team. And…not so much.

They have a basket full of $20 bills and $10 in change. I need $15. It’s 8:54, and the first session starts at 9. I’m visibly fretting. A random staffer offers to track down more change, but he’s gone so long that I finally say to Clueless Reg Table Staffer #1, “Why don’t you just give me the 10, and I’ll call it a $5 donation?” Everybody seems thrilled with this arrangement, especially me.

[You see, I have a serious problem with lateness. It causes me physical pain. Years ago, a therapist suggested that, deep down, I fear that I’m not worthy of waiting on. Entirely plausible…but I think it’s more likely that, deep down, I have serious issues with inconsiderate people who can’t get their sh*t together. Unfortunately, I’m a Democrat, so this is going to come up a time or two. My cross to bear.]

Inexplicable – It’s 8:58, and yet the concourse is packed with people seemingly unconcerned with getting to their session on time. I’m pushing my way through when this young woman in a weather-inappropriate bubble-skirted sundress jumps out at me, saying, “Do you know about Kay Hagan for Senate?” in this Disney-chipper voice. “Yes,” I bark, and keep on walking. (I don’t have time for a sales pitch! Don’t these people know there are sessions to attend???) (Besides, I have issues with Kay Hagan. More on her inappropriately chipper stand-ins later…)

So here I am in the auditorium at 9:05, my session (Peer-to Peer Outreach) having been moved from a smaller room. I know this because a random person wandered by and informed me and the other half-dozen people who’d foolishly assumed that the printed schedule was accurate. Here’s the best part: when I got to Room Whateveritwas, a gaggle of Teen Dems was already there. One had already laid out fliers on every seat (he was running for something, natch). First Random Person tells the kids to move out, we all help Flier Boy gather his stuff with, hopefully, a minimum of crumpling, and the kids shuffle off to some other room.

Then, moments later, yet another Random Person pops his head in and asks, “are y’all here for the session on Peer-to-Peer Outreach?” Now, who woulda thunk that? “That’s in the auditorium. This is the Teen Dems,” Random Person says before disappearing. I can only think about two things: that famous Will Rogers quote, “I don’t belong to any organized party, I’m a Democrat,” and that poor kid who’s going to have to put out all those darned fliers yet again.

Fortunately, the session is worth the wait. Toni Cani, a bona fide gets-paid-for-this staffer from Young Democrats of America, talks to us about the best ways to communicate to the under-35 set. (Gist: we’ve been marketed to all our lives, so we can spot BS a mile a way. Don’t you dare hit us with a sales pitch, i.e. “Do you know about Kay Hagan for Senate?”) I liked.

So here’s what it’s like to be in Session One. Toni starts off by asking us to introduce ourselves, warning us not to do the typical young politico “I worked on this campaign, aren’t I such hot sh*t?” thing – just name, rank and serial number, so to speak, because we’re short on time. He points at me first. So hi, I’m Sara, from Forsyth County. Then it goes around the room. I’m the Official New Hanover County Muckety Muck. Well, I’m the Official Wake County Muckety Muck AND I shop in the same Harris Teeter as John Edwards’s baby-sitter. I’m exaggerating, of course, but you get the idea. I start on time, I follow instructions, I neglect to title/name-check. Obviously I wasn’t cut out for politics.

There’s an actual Hillary Clinton campaign worker at the opposite end of the front row from me. She gets really excited at one of the first questions for Toni, when a woman at the back asks how we, as women, talk about politics without coming off as if we’re lecturing – exact quote: “…without reminding them of their seventh grade English teacher.” (Or, as I record it in my notes, “how to talk to chickensh*t men.” Seriously, welcome to my world.)

It’s a valid question, but one that Toni admits he’s ill-equipped to answer. It seems he was raised in a family of strong women. “I like women in politics,” he says. The Hillary woman is about to rapture.