“Waiting for Superman” won best documentary at the recent Sundance Film Festival but did not even get nominated at the Oscars. Surprised? Not me. The left leaning members of the
I recently found “Waiting for Superman” listed on our PPV schedule here in
The movie from director Davis Guggenheim, chronicles the heartbreaking stories of three poor families as they tilt against the long odds of securing a chance for their kids of getting a decent education by entering the lotteries for a handful of slots in charter schools. Many hundreds of families crowded auditoriums hoping their kids will be selected to attend charter schools like
Money is NOT the solution. Over $2 trillion has been “invested” in education over the last half century…. 57% of that in the last decade. $77.4 billion has been allocated for the Department of Education (the 3rd largest Federal agency) for 2012. And, let’s not forget the $100 billion bonus in the “stimulus” package. OK, that’s a union payback by Obama.
So what kind of return are we getting for this “investment”? Not great. While spending has exploded, achievement has been flat and comparisons with other OECD countries slipping. The
What about graduation rates for public schools when compared to per pupil spending? No correlation.
Clearly the problem is not that insufficient money is being spent, it’s that so much of it is being wasted in bureaucratic bullshit. According to the GAO, there are 151 K thru 12 child education programs in 20 Federal agencies spending over $55 .6 billion annually.
No Child Left Behind is the 8th reorganization of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 passed as part of LBJ’s “War on Poverty” and was the first Federal meddling in state education. As an example of how DOE laws can cost the states big bucks, NCLB caused state education bureaucracies to double in five years and requires 7 million hours of paperwork. Federal spending on education has tripled since 1970 and the ROI on that investment is zero. Academic achievement nationally continues to be flat.
Of course, the teachers unions come in for a good bit of criticism in “Waiting for Superman” and deservedly so. Like any monopoly, the teachers will go to the barricades and fight to the death to protect theirs. They battle against charter schools, school choice and merit pay relentlessly and pour millions of dollars and boots on the ground support for Democrat candidates in exchange for political support. That’s been a great investment!
Union teachers generally receive tenure after two years and thereafter it is nearly impossible to get rid of, not only a poor or indifferent teacher, but also even criminal ones.
Another sadly humorous abuse of this tenure policy is what school administrators call the “dance of the lemons”. Since firing ineffective and problem teachers cannot be reasonably accomplished, at the end of each school year administrators ship off their lemons to another school. In return they receive the dolts from some other school. It’s like the game of Hearts where you pass some crappy cards out of your hand to the guy next to you. Unfortunately, the player on your other side gives you his junk to replace it.
Just to see how determined and powerful the teachers unions actually are, consider this. As mentioned above
She wasted no time. She closed 23 schools, cut half the admin staff from head quarters and got rid of 75 ineffective teachers while negotiating a new contract with the teachers union. Needless-to-say, the teachers were not happy despite the fact that under Fenty and Rhee reading test scores went up 14% and math scores 17%. The unions wanted revenge.
When the mayoral election came around again the national American Federation of Teachers as well as the local unions poured millions into the campaign backing a primary opponent friendly to the union against Fenty. Fenty had been an early and enthusiastic backer of Obama but when he needed some help in his campaign, Obama remained mute. Under the bus with you, Adrian! Fenty lost and Rhee got canned. Last I heard, all 75 teachers had been rehired and given back pay.
If you have been watching the Democrats bend over and grab their ankles for the teachers unions these last couple of years and watched their behavior in the
What? You want my suggestion? Simple. Disband the Department of Education saving some $100 billion. Let the states manage their own education bureaucracies and toss all that Federal paperwork. The states should give each student $7500 per year to attend the private school of her choice, saving the state $2500 on each student that opts out of the public schools. Break the monopoly by bringing in competition. It’s the only way.
Note: Next up: The war in
"I wrote this story a very long time ago and discovered it recently when I was looking through some old files. It's so old it was written on a typewriter. (You may remember those things).
It's not much changed from the original."
"Like a lot of stories, this one has some basis in fact. Many years ago when our son, Mike, turned one year old, he received a Buck knife in the mail from a SEAL teammate as a belated baby gift .The letter with it said pretty much what the one in the story says. Over the years I have continued the practice, sending Buck knives to the young sons of friends. The last one went out about one year ago."
"Let me hear your comments .... good and bad about this tale."
Dick
Nick shifted his weight carefully on the narrow board that served as his seat. He was already restless and a little cold but he had trouble sitting still anytime, let alone on the opening day of his first deer season.
The woods were perceptibly brighter now. He could almost make out the nearest clump of birches directly in front of him. An hour earlier he had left the dirt fire lane following his Uncle Joe into the total blackness of the
Nick wiggled his toes in his felt-lined Sorrels and flexed his fingers on the 30-30 Marlin cradled in his lap. It seemed an eternity since Joe had wished him good luck and with flashlight bobbing disappeared into the darkness. Nick hadn’t been too keen on locating his stand here. Hanlon’s Slew was named for Jack Hanlon, a crazy Irishman, so he was told, whose stand had stood not ten yards from where Nick now sat. Jack had died… Joe said… 4 years ago and no one had hunted in this location since. Ha, I’m a Polish/Scotsman and Hanlon’s a ghost, quite a pair of hunting buddies, he thought. But, his Dad and uncle Joe had persisted and he did not want to think of him less than brave even if he was only twelve years old.
A flicker of movement to his left snapped him out of his thoughts and started his heart to thumping. Trying to hold his head stationary, he rolled his eyes to the left and held his breath. He caught the movement again and recognized the object of his excitement… a tiny, fluffy “snow bird” that was flitting from branch to branch. He silently watched the bird as it continued the solitary task of examining buds. Since he seemed not to eat any, Nick concluded he must have been looking for the “perfect bud”.
Nick swung his gaze back to the front and realized he could now make out the nearest side of Hanlon’s Slew and therefore the 1998
After a few moments Nick returned to his thoughts. He knew that this was a significant day, not only for him as his first deer hunt, but also for his Dad and uncles. Today he was crossing the threshold of Manhood in the eyes of the men in his family and he realized that they would never treat him in quite the same way. Nick had awaited this day, seemingly forever. The Knife symbolized it all. He leaned back against one of the two stout birches that supported his seat and pressed the Buck knife against his hip, comforted by its presence. The Knife had been his for nearly 12 years but this was the first time he had been allowed to carry it.
It had been given to him by his Uncle Joe as a baby gift and the letter to him said that the knife was to serve as a reminder to his Dad of his responsibilities as a father to, “…. Teach him the ways of the woods and to take care of his gear.” The letter also talked about how the knife as it got moved from drawer to drawer would remind his Dad that, despite business and time pressures, should “remember the simple and important things.” Nick could not say with certainty if the knife had caused his Dad to spend more time with him. But, his father had taken him along on fishing and hunting trips since he was about four or five. Except for deer hunting.
He was lucky, he knew, for many of his friends at school did not get to do many of the things he enjoyed. His uncles had also taught him much. Uncle Dan, his Dad’s brother and the official trout-fishing champion of the family, had taught him all his tricks. Uncle Joe had showed him all his grouse coverlets and how to sit quietly in the hardwoods for squirrels. Joe Dolan wasn’t really family. He and his Dad had been friends for years despite their age difference. He had always been “Uncle Joe” to Nick and he knew that Joe loved him like a son.
It was fully light now and from the bright glow in the east Nick knew the sun would be up soon. It promised to be a glorious November day. With no wind the woods were silent. An occasional shot could be heard but they were distant and certainly not by anyone in Nick’s group.
Nick’s eyes kept returning to a shape on the far side of Hanlon’s Slew. It sure looked like a deer standing in the tall grass! The more he stared at it the more certain he became. Once again, his heart started to thump. Slowly he raised the carbine and pressed his cheek against the polished walnut stock. Scanning the area with his scope he could not locate the deer so using the open sights beneath the scope he lined up the deer and then peered through the scope. His “deer” turned out to be a patch of brush and the trunk of a blown down willow. He reminded himself of Uncle Joe’s advice, “Don’t focus on objects. Just scan with your eyes and look for movement,” and “Listen. Your ears are your best allies.”
The momentary excitement and the morning chill were causing Nick two kinds of discomfort. He desperately wanted to stretch his legs and the pressure in his bladder could no longer be denied. He took one careful look around and rose slowly to his feet, feeling the carpeted platform under his feet and the gentle swaying of the birches that supported his stand. After relieving himself, stretching and treating himself to a cup of steaming coco he resumed his vigil happy that a buck had not appeared during his “break”. He had heard many stories of huge bucks that chose awkward moments to appear.
The sun’s rays slanted through the trees now turning the branches and dead leaves on which the frost had gathered during the night into dazzling patterns of reflected light. The kiss of the sun quickly melted the frost and droplets of moisture gathered on the brush. Nick watched intently as a drop of moisture grew on a twig near his head, distended and fell silently. “Like a tear,” he thought.
There had been a few tears last night and Nick was still a bit mystified at the emotional outpouring. He wondered if it might have something to do with the ancient bottle of brandy that Uncle Joe had produced to toast the hunt and celebrate the little ceremony when his Dad had given him The Knife. Uncle Joe had quickly left the cabin during the ceremony and it was a long time before he returned with the armload of wood he had gone to fetch. Joe’s eyes had been rimmed with red. That had reminded him of something Uncle Joe had once said to his father, “An Irishman cries when he’s happy or sad. A Scotsman only cries when he has to pick up the check.”
The rustling in the leaves off to his right brought him back to the present and his eyes followed his ears to the source of the sound. A lean gray squirrel was digging around among the leaves either looking for something or burying it. What ever he was doing, he made a lot of noise. It sounded like a whole herd of deer!
Nick leaned back and glanced again in the direction of the two small White pines about 40 yards away on his left. His Dad and Uncle Dan had located a “scrape” there when they were constructing his stand yesterday morning. They told him to keep an eye on it, as the buck might be back to see if a doe had left him a calling card in his absence. He was keeping a close watch on that area. He hadn’t heard any shots for some time now and the woods were again silent as the squirrel had moved on.
He started to think again about the events of last night and Uncle Joe’s reaction. He remembered that Joe had a son… ah, Pat wasn’t it? Yes Pat. And he had died when he was about Nick’s age… hit by a car… riding his bike. Yes, that must be it. Uncle Joe must have been thinking about his son, although Nick had never heard Joe mention his name. Nick had overheard his Mom and Dad talking about it once and, even at his young age, figured that the loss of his son had something to do with Uncle Joe’s affection for him. He had never dared question Joe about it and, since no one else mentioned it, guessed it was one of those taboo subjects. He made a mental note to ask his Dad about it the next time they had one of their “talks”. It was about time for another one. He had heard some incredible things about sex at school that he wanted to get clarified.
Nicks’ senses suddenly went on alert. He had heard something he was sure but couldn’t locate the sound, as if it were on the fringes of his consciousness. There, he’d heard it again! The sound seemed to be coming from the other side of Hanlon’s Slew in the direction of Uncle’s Joe’s stand that was about a quarter mile away. While watching intently in that direction he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his left eye and swung his head quickly to the side. “Damn!” he cursed silently for he knew he’d moved too fast. He froze and his eyes picked up the dark shape of a deer moving silently toward the two small pines. The deer had its head down and glided slowly through the brush. Nick could not get a clear view to determine if it was a buck. At about 50 yards distant the deer stepped into an opening, stopped, raised his head and looked directly at Nick. It was a buck! And, Nick was certain; at that range the buck would clearly hear the wild thumping of his heart. Nick was almost overpowered by the urge to snap his rifle to his shoulder and shoot but he knew he would never make it. The buck would be gone before he could get off a shot. He also had been told many times that a deer can look right at you and not see you if… you don’t move. Suddenly the buck looked back over his shoulder in the direction of Uncle Joe’s stand, dropped his head and continued walking toward the two pines. When the buck’s head was momentarily hidden behind some thick brush, Nick slowly raised the 30-30 and thumbed back the hammer. His heart thumped like a drum, his eyes were misting with excitement and the end of the rifle weaved alarmingly. Nick wondered if he could hit the buck if he ever did step from behind the pines. And then the buck came into the open, stood looking at him and was perfectly broadside.
The roar of the carbine as it slammed against his shoulder surprised him, not only because the sound crashed through the silent forest like a sudden clap of thunder, but also because he could not consciously remember aiming or pulling the trigger.
Photographed in his mind forever would be the image of the deer crouching and leaping over the small knoll after his shot.
He knew in his heart that he had missed, confident that his sights had not been on the buck when he shot. “Shot, Hell!” he muttered. “It went off.”
Nick’s hands shook alarmingly so he put the rifle down. He began to get dejected at the thought he’d blown his opportunity. Buck fever. He wondered what kind of ribbing he’d take from his Uncles for blowing his chance? His Dad wouldn’t say much but Uncle Dan would surely let him have it. He realized he wasn’t going to have much time to think about it when he spotted a splash of orange moving through the hardwoods and down the hill toward Hanlon’s Slew. Uncle Joe would be at Nick’s stand in a matter of minutes. Joe walked steadily in that rolling gait of his until he stood directly below Nick. He looked up and whispered, “Well?”
“A b-buck. I missed him,” replied Nick.
“How do you know?” asked Joe simply.
“Well, ah, he ran off.”
“So why don’t we go take a look?” asked Joe. “Hand me your rifle. Is it loaded?”
Nick looked sheepish as he realized he had forgotten to eject the spent cartridge. He was grateful that Joe remained silent as he unloaded the rifle and handed it down. Nick’s heart still thudded and his knees shook as he climbed unsteadily to the ground. “Deer frequently run, even if fatally shot. You know that, Nick,” said Joe. “Where was he standing when you shot?” Nick pointed toward the pines and they both slowly made their way in that direction.
Searching the ground for sign, Joe stopped and pointed. “Here’s his track. See the splayed tracks where he jumped?” exclaimed Joe. Nick was about to tell Joe the direction the deer had gone but Joe was already moving on the trail like a bloodhound. Nick remembered that his Dad had once said that Joe was one of those guys who could track a trout up a rapids. That certainly seemed true because Nick could not imagine what Joe was following over the leaf-covered ground. Every few feet or so Joe would stop and carefully search the area around the tracks. Nick knew he was looking for blood and the failure to find any filled him with dread that he had completely missed the buck. He knew the razzing he would take from his Uncles and the rest of their party would be unmerciful.
After an agonizing 30 yards Joe stopped and said with a touch of excitement, “Here we go!” Nick hurried over and following Joe’s finger saw a single spot of bright crimson gleaming on an oak leaf. Nick’s hopes crashed. One tiny spot in all that distance? Maybe he had just wounded the buck. That would be worse than a clean miss. But Joe was encouraged. “Lung shot, I think.”
They pressed on. The tracks were slanting downhill now toward a small brushy slew. They found another blood spot, then another, then a large gleaming blotch and finally, at the edge of the slew in a small open area they found the buck. To Nick it looked huge with thick solid antlers shining in the morning sunlight.
“Congratulations Nick. That’s a fine six point. Good job!”
Joe relieved Nick of his rifle and moved over to a log where he slipped off his pack and sat down. He pulled his thermos from his pack and fished his pipe from his pocket. It was clear that Joe would only be a consultant in the next phase of the operation. Nick struggled out of his orange coveralls and rolled up his sleeves. He knew he must field dress his own deer… wanted to and still dreaded it. He hoped Uncle Joe would help him.
He reached for his Buck knife and slid it from the stiff leather sheath. The gleaming blade caught the light and momentarily blinded him and the knife seemed warm and alive in his hands. Nick glanced up at Joe and was startled by the anguish on his face. Tears streamed from his deep blue eyes, coursed through the stubble on his ruddy cheeks and dripped off his chin. Nick stood poised, legs apart, with one hand holding the buck’s leg the other gripping The Knife. And then Nick knew, knew with the certainty that comes when finally seeing the obvious. “This is Pat’s knife, isn’t it?”
“No Nick, it’s your knife,” Joe replied evenly. “True, it was Pat’s but as you know, he never lived to use it.”
Nick felt a little angry, a little disappointed and a little afraid. The Knife seemed alien in his hand. He had to fight the impulse to toss it into the leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Nick.
“Well, I’m not sure exactly. Never found the right time or the right words, I guess. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll tell you the whole story? Maybe then you’ll understand.” Nick plopped down on the leaves and laid The Knife between them.
Joe wiped the tears from his stubble-covered cheeks, thumbed the crumbs of burley into his pipe and relit it before beginning. “When Pat was one year old nearly 25 years ago, a close friend of mine who served with me in the Navy sent Pat The Knife as a baby gift. The letter with it said pretty much the same as the letter I sent you. As you probably remember it went something like this: ‘This baby gift arrives long after most of those that arrived on time are either outgrown or forgotten. This one will wait around for you to become a man. During those years as it gets shuffled from drawer to drawer it will serve as a reminder for your Father to teach you the ways of the woods and what it means to be a man. As the years pass, your Father will be a busy man and this knife will remind him to remember the simple important things. A young man’s first knife is a symbol of maturity and trust. May it serve you well.’
“As you might imagine when Pat was killed in the auto accident shortly before he was to receive it, I was crushed. My wife and I were so overcome with grief that our marriage went on the rocks. I got heavily into the bottle and was well on the way to losing everything. At that time you had your first birthday and I got the idea of passing The Knife on to you. Getting involved in your life and watching you grow into a fine young man….well, it helped me. No, it saved me. Can you understand? I’m sorry I never got around to telling…"
“No” said Nick. It’s OK. It’s an honor and thank you for giving it to me.”
Nick picked up The Knife and with a solemn expression rose and walked to the buck. He lifted the buck’s hind leg over his shoulder exposing the snowy white underbelly and glistening in his hand, The Knife cut for the first time.
Copyright © 2010 by Dick Draper
(What ever happened to that war cry?)
Note: I am back blogging by popular demand…. Actually one person suggested I climb back on the horse. Seemed sufficient. A lot of stuff going on right now so there are plenty of subjects to write about. Here’s a start.
Oil prices hit $104 per barrel today up from the 80s a few weeks ago. Speculators are nervous about all the protests in the
Gas prices escalate quickly as oil futures rise and gas is now at around $3.60 nationally and creeping upward. Before the blow up in the ME, analysts were already predicting that gas prices would rise to $4.00 pg this year and hit $5.00 next year as the world-wide recovery gained momentum and demand grew, especially in
The rule of thumb on gas prices relative to oil prices is, if you divide the oil price per barrel by 30 you get an approximation of what the gas price will be. Steven Chu, Energy Secretary, once opined that he would like to see
The Obama Administration has done everything they can to make conventional carbon based energy more expensive. They claim they want to “reduce dependence on foreign oil” which to them does not mean drilling for oil on US soil or waters, but expanding use of corn, wind, solar and electric cars. Speaking of the Chevy Volt…. GM quietly released sales figures on the Volt for February. They sold 281 vs. 321 in January. Not to worry, Nissan sold 87 of their electric “Leaf” models. In other words, this electric car thing is really catching on. Yeah, right.
If a $40,000 compact that gets 30 miles on a charge is not enough to move you to buy one to save the planet, how about this? The state of
According to Nick Loris and John Ligon of the Heritage Foundation, Obama’s energy policy cannot possibly succeed. Wind and solar only generate 1% of the electrical need in the US and the ethanol initiatives costs taxpayers $4 billion to produce 2% of the gasoline requirements. Furthermore, turning corn into gas drives up food prices worldwide. Part of the unrest in the
Since Obama took over he and his Interior Secretary, Ken Salazar, have been doing everything possible to cut domestic energy supplies. (Stats courtesy of Heritage)
· Salazar cancelled 77 leases for drilling in
· In April Obama exploited the blow out of the Deepwater Horizon well in the Gulf to shut down all drilling there. They modified a report by a commission of experts from the National Academy of Engineers to make it sound like the commission supported the Administration’s moratorium on drilling. The engineers did not support such a ban and were more than a little pissed that Czar Browner had rewritten their report.
· In June LA Federal Judge Martin Feldman overturned the Obama Admin moratorium on drilling. So the Interior Department simply cancelled that one and issued another essentially identical ban. An annoyed Judge Feldman in February ruled the Obama Administration in contempt of court for ignoring his ruling. Last week the Administration issued the first drilling permit for the Gulf since April. Experts predict that the offshore moratorium will reduce domestic output by 13% this year.
· Secretary Salazar also placed the eastern Gulf and the coasts of the Atlantic and Pacific, including
· Of course, ANWAR can never be exploited under this Administration. That’s another 10 billion barrels.
· Interior also stopped the development of the Keystone XL pipeline. The first two phases of this 4 phase project are complete and pump oil from the rich
I guess what surprises me is that as we rapidly approach $4/ gallon gas nationally (already achieved in some places), where’s the outcry? Where are the chants of “Drill Baby Drill”? Four dollar gas is supposed to be the tipping point but we seem on a path to blow right through that and hit $5.00 soon. At the moment no one seems to be raising much of a fuss, even as the cost of fuel will soon put a big damper on a slow economic recovery. It may also trigger a dreaded round of inflation. Obama does not seem worried. They are still talking about increasing taxes on oil companies. They must figure the voters don’t give a damn. Do you?
Then too, for all the talk about a “wave election”, when you get right down to the numbers, 86% of the incumbents got re-elected. In other words, 86% of the idiots who got us into this mess are still there. True, that’s down from the usual 98% but still insufficient to effect real change in policy. I mean, why should the incumbents who got re-elected suddenly change policy? There’s no upside. For them, what they’re doing now is working fine.
To get an idea on how to create jobs it might be useful to look at why and how we lose them. I gave that a try in the recent piece “The Buffaloization of America”.
Corporations are not charitable organizations. They have to show a reasonable profit for their activities or their stockholders, many of whom are union retirement funds or the IRAs or 401Ks of average citizens, will demand the head of the CEO. If they can’t make a profit in
Then there is the matter of competition. If your company that manufactures in the US or Canada and is competing with a company making a competitive product manufactured in say, China you are going to be at a serious disadvantage in your cost of goods. The cost of any product is a function of the materials, labor, overhead and profit. The usual suspect in any discussion of “jobs going overseas” is labor. And it’s true as far as it goes. In the past much lower labor costs in
Union work rules represent a bigger problem than the wage differential. These often conflict and cause work stoppages and productivity declines. Strikes are even more destructive.
Then there are labor laws and the employees and lawyers who game the system. In one of my businesses we had an employee who made a career out of getting fired. She would make everyone around her miserable until she finally got fired. She then sued for “unfair termination” or some such and won a big settlement every time. To my knowledge she has done this at least three times. We were the second company to hire this bit… er, pro. The company that got stung before us could not warn us because they would get sued again for saying something negative about her. Nor could we warn the next company in line. We were instructed by our lawyers to answer when asked for a reference on this crook to only say, “She worked here from X date to X date” and nothing more.
We had another employee at a different company who we fired for stealing from the company. She filed a sexual harassment complaint with the EEOC… not against me, thank God, but against some of our other employees. Of course, the charges were totally bogus. One of them was that she was out drinking one night after work with a bunch of her young fellow employees and someone said something offensive. Imagine that. The leap here is that my company is responsible for the speech of my employees when they are on their own time drinking in a bar? Yep, apparently so. It cost us a lot of money.
And let’s not forget product liability. I once dropped in on a friend that was baby-sitting her grand daughter who was a year old or so. It was a hot day and they had a “swimming pool” set up for the tyke. It had to be less than 4 feet in diameter and maybe 3 or 4 inches deep. Emblazoned on the tube was the following warning: “No Diving!!” Ya think?
If you make something some idiot will figure out a way to injure himself with it and sue you. The annual cost of torts on businesses in the
The loss of manufacturing jobs has been going on for years and is not going to be reversed overnight, if ever, in the
1). Ratify the free trade agreements with
2). Extend the tax rates due to expire on January 1st for everyone. Keep the rates where they are for everyone and forget the class warfare shit. Not increasing capital gains and dividend taxes alone will be beneficial, not to mention eliminating uncertainty.
3). US international corporations are sitting on some $400 billion in cash in their foreign subsidiaries. If they bring it back to the
4). They should immediately lift the defacto moratorium on deep water drilling imposed by the Obama Administration. The have ostensibly lifted the ban but in fact have issued no new permits. If they would start issuing permits again they could put a lot of people back to work immediately on the
None of the above addresses the long-term reforms that need to be accomplished to really restore an economic boom and create the eight million jobs that have been lost. That would include: serious tort reform; deep sixing Obamacare; reducing the corporate tax rate to 25%; taking a brutally sharp knife to spending and letting oil and coal start again on
After the tsunami sweeps ashore all that water has to eventually go back where it came from, taking with it all manner of flotsam and the carcasses of critters drowned in the flood. The election tsunami on Tuesday swept away a lot of Democrats with some 60 House seats swinging over to the GOP and with a half dozen or so races still counting chads. (The wave washed away three Democrat committee chairmen, seven Dems with more than 20 years of experience and most of the freshman representatives that came in two years ago on Obama’s coattails. James Oberstar, MN (18 terms), John Spratt, SC (14 terms) and Ike Skelton, MO (17 terms) were among the notables who now need to go find a real job. Actually, I suppose if you have spent 34 or 36 years in the House of Representatives you likely stole enough that working is no longer a necessity.
In one of the more satisfying purges, Alan Grayson of
Of course, this being US politics where incumbency means almost certain re-election, many Democrats more than worthy of being sent off to new careers, survived. Barney Frank, MA and 30 year veteran of the House prevailed over his first opponent even given a fleeting chance at beating him. Barney, who’s only real job was pumping gas at age 18 and the individual most responsible for the housing crisis, showed that in some liberal enclaves you can get away with almost anything and get re-elected. Pete Stark of CA is another example. He’s a very cranky 78 years old and 18 termer. Viral videos of him insulting his constituents at town hall meetings didn’t hurt him any. He got 72% of the vote. Yes, it is
Harry Reid survived. Although most polls showed him tied with Angle or slightly behind, he won easily. Pundits said he “had a good ground game” which means that the labor unions hired a fleet of buses, catered lunches and dragged people to the polls. Boxer thumped Forina and Brown showed Whitman what the California Democrat machine could do when threatened. McMahon in CT also got whacked.
To me the three highly successful businesswomen that entered politics for the first time in this election; Forina, Whitman and McMahon represent the biggest surprise.
All were enormously successful CEOs and rose to the top of male dominated industries. All three are smart, articulate and honest and all dumped millions of their own money into the effort. Yet they all got their asses handed to them. Why?
OK, they chose to run in notoriously liberal states but it’s got to be more than that. Is it possible that powerful women threaten men or is it that women are turned off by these assertive gals? Both? One would think that the feminist groups would be pounding the pavement for these accomplished women. But no, these are conservative, capitalist women not enthusiastic about abortion. The feminists wouldn’t go near them.
Whitman dumped $140 million of her own money in the campaign to try to get the job of Governor of California that, to me, is one of the least desirable jobs on the planet. Maybe she did want to save CA, but I can think of other things to do with $140 million. The “fruits and nuts” elected Jerry Brown. Good luck. If you’ve got any
So what can we learn from this and what can we expect for the next couple of years? A lot of the political wags say that Obama will now try to pull a
Another interesting thing to watch will be what happens to the Tea Party movement. Will the grass roots movement fade away? Will the enthusiasm die or will it persist? The Tea Party enjoyed some successes in this Tuesday with the election of Marco Rubio and Rand Paul. They also experienced some failures, most notably the selection of Christine O’Donnell and Sharon Angle. Both were elected in the primaries by the Tea Party folks based on their ideological purity and both got hammered in the general election. In both instances there were other Republicans in those states that would have had a better chance. Will the Tea Party folks be a little more pragmatic next time around?
Then there is the Sarah Palin question. What’s she gonna do for the next couple of years? Personally I think that her ego is going to get the best of her better judgment and she will run for President. Mistake. While I personally like her, I don’t think she’s right for the Oval Office. Most polls I’ve seen agree with me on that one.
Well, as the Chinese say, “May you live in interesting times.” No problem there.
