Trump is a Scab

On the second

night

what could

excite

the DNC

Convention

more than

two Obamas?

Our dream

team

seems

still

in its

prime,

able 

to outshine

everyone.

Michelle

didn’t

utter

the name

of 

the utterly

despicable,

predictable

opponent

who has been

dominant

in our politics

for the equivalent

of two terms.

With pointed

reference

she gave

preference

to not

dignifying

him 

by name.

She led

with mothers

instilling

in us

character

and integrity,

honesty

and community,

and yes,

family,

finally

reclaiming

MAGA’s

reframing

as American

values.

Mothers

are the central

issue

and the connective

tissue

as Mrs. Obama

reminded us.

Who gets

to be 

a mother

or not

and how

is now

based

on how

you vote.

And the GOAT,

Barak,

never stooped

to mock,

but certainly

took stock

of Trump’s 

schlock

and very dangerous

efforts.

Obama, the POTUS,

showed us

again

that 

Yes We Can,

but with clear

eyes—

not to fantasize.

This long 

division

requires

a decision

to DO

something.

And that means

everything

that could

possibly bring

Harris and Walz

to the West Wing.

After reading

the recap

of the rest

of the night

the best

line just might

be:

“Trump 

is a scab.”

United Auto

Workers President

Shawn Fain

may now reign

up there with Walz

as the stellar,

clever

truth teller

who nails it.

Trump feigns

blue collar

sympathy,

when,

in actuality

his classless

act

gets blue collars

to react

and send money

to him.

Biden 

stood with 

union

strikers,

literally

on the line.

Trump’s

online

conversation

with the gross

Musk,

was full 

of adoration

and adulation

for Elon’s

lack of elan

cutting costs

by using

nonunion

labor.

“You’re 

the greatest

cutter,”

Trump praised

Musk,

for firing

as many

as he could.

The ever-cross

Trump

would cross

a picket line

just because

he could.

But the scab

jab

was just so

perfect

because he’s 

not only

a sore 

loser,

but a sore

that we can’t

ignore;

infectious

and perpetually

inflamed.

They’re weird.

Trump is a 

scab.

Yes we can

deny Trump

that Black

job 

he so desperately

needs.

Philly Cheese Stake

This week has been pretty sunny in Philadelphia. I have watched many conventions, but have never been so moved over and over and over each night. Speaker after speaker shared stories that continue to inspire and remind us of possibility, and of what policy can really do for individuals.

The Dems seem to have embraced a traditional kind of American patriotism this week. Like Mohamed Ali’s refrain, “I’m the GREATEST”, Dems embraced American exceptionalism and repeatedly declared how great America already is. This used to be the province of the Republicans, wrapping themselves in the flag (or sticking themselves with flag pins), while any critique was denounced as unpatriotic.. You’re either with us or against us. It was a simplistic patriotism.

The Dems’ patriotism, on full display this week in Philadelphia, included critique and dissent, but mostly a plethora of joy and celebration for the myriad ways one can more fully realize one’s potential, and even transform challenges and tragedies, as long as we find ways to support one another politically. The testimonies of those whose lives were made better because of actual policies, were remarkable. So much courage and brilliance was on display. It was colorful in every way. It was thrilling and amazing. I have never seen or heard anything like it.

Battles that I have witnessed (and some I have participated in) for civil rights for women, African Americans, immigrants, disabled, LGBTQ, first responders, veterans, and more were shared and celebrated. It was impossible not to notice the multi-ness at the Democratic convention. That was a powerful image of America. Sure, there was also plenty of cheese. Maybe I’m just getting old, but I ate it all up.

I think we wanted some cheese. There has been too much acridity in our politics for much too long. Dems seemed to realize what a toll that has taken, and made a concerted effort to feel good; to serve up some comfort food. And they did.

It was an easy contrast to the fear and hate on display at the Republican convention. There were so many outstanding speeches thus far at the Democratic convention, that each day’s ranking of who gave the best speech  became silly. (Ok…The Obamas). But despite the displays of intrepidness, decency, knowledge, experience, compassion, and rhetorical skills, the celebration of our American greatness also seemed threatened. And not by external threats.

What’s at stake in this election is now being called Trumpism. President Obama gave the perfect coda to his political career last night. Having endured the suggestions and attacks from Palin and others that Obama was somehow not American, or against America, and having endured the “Birtherism” that Trump inflamed early on in the Obama presidency, Mr. Obama somehow outdid himself as he outlined the ways in which Trump and his “philosophy” (mostly  attitude) is antithetical to American ideals and to America itself. Obama brilliantly articulated his own American essence and patriotism, while eviscerating Trumpism as unpatriotic. Obama cast Trump (and Trumpism) as un-American! Take that!

Many have found displays of patriotism cheesy. It’s so easy to be cynical. What’s at stake was never better articulated than it was last night, which is saying quite a bit, given Obama’s rhetorical genius.
It is possible to acknowledge the greatness of America and take pride in achievements while still acknowledging that so much more needs to be accomplished in the economy, jobs, healthcare, education, policing, racial issues, veterans’ issues, equal pay, low income communities, restoring the middle class, gun violence and safety, infrastructure, getting big money out of politics, homeland security, cyber-security, environmental safeguards and energy strategies, innovation, international issues, and more.

Tonight will be the last night of the convention, and I anticipate a healthy portion of Philly Cheese Stake. It may be cheesy, but it is necessary to remind ourselves of our better angels, and to have those wings expand. Trumpism, at the very least, divides and contracts. It leaves us bitter and weaker, and worse. Too much is at stake.

Super Duper

Yesterday was a Super Duper Wednesday.  It was not a good day; certainly not in the news world. It was a day full of news and un-news and more bad news, and then punctuated news. By now we are all too familiar with the news media too eager to report, despite serious mistakes (and possibly serious ramifications from those mistakes). It does seem, however, that there is forensic evidence of a pressure cooker used for the bomb(s) that killed and maimed brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, at the Boston Marathon on Monday. A pressure cooker. It’s almost too obvious. The literal and figurative remains of a pressure cooker were what we were left with yesterday. By the time I went to bed, though, I felt duped.

On a day when media outlets rushed to report that a suspect in the Boston Marathon bombing was arrested, and then that report was retracted, the “pressure cooker” that is the news media revealed its limits. Then there was the discovery of a  potentially poisonous letter sent to President Obama, just after one was discovered sent to a senator (maybe more than one senator). At least those letters were initialed by the sender, so as to avoid any confusion. By the end of the day, when most of the news revolved around the aftermath of the horror in Boston, and attempts to get attention for poisoning senators and the President, a bi-partisan bill that would expand background checks to purchase a gun was defeated. President Obama responded,” The American people are trying to figure out, how can something have 90 percent support and yet not happen?”  I think many of us felt Super Duped.

We live in Super times. Supermodels and Supermajorities; Super Bowls and Super Bugs; Super Moms and Superheroes; (Superman); Superhighways and Superconductors; Super Glue and Super Funds; Supersonic and Supernova; Superstars and Superpowers; Superego and Superficial and Supernatural…….

So much seems to be heightened–super heightened– and we often find ourselves in our own pressure cookers. Then we have Super Duper days.