Tepid Takes #458: Ossoff and You and Everyone You Know

A few weeks have passed-- or months, not sure, the world's been busy-- since Democrats most recent soul-crushing shock defeat in a race they were sure they could win. Indeed, this was just one of three elections in areas that haven't voted blue in decades that Democrats had confidence in winning because some of these voters who never vote Democrat Don't Like Donald Trump That Much. Of the three, Jon Ossoff's race was seen as the closest, polls had him ahead at points. But if you're reading this, you probably know the whole story, and there's plenty of dialogue, much of it profoundly unconstructive*, about What It Means, How Could We Lose, etc.

Honestly, while Moral Victories mean jack shit electorally, the fact that Dems could run competitive races in historically red (who picked the colors anyway?) areas is a legitimately encouraging sign.

One of the arguments I keep seeing is that if Rob Quist or James Thompson had had the sort of massive financial backing that Jon Ossoff had, they'd have won their respective races. I think this is entirely plausible, but hardly a given. Still, let's accept that premise for a second-- that with funding equivalent (even equivalent to half of) the Georgia race, we'd have two new Democrats in office, and the beginning of a Grand Populist Wave on the Wings of Bernie. The embittered argument tends to be that the Democratic Establishment is hell bent on keeping a tight fist around the party, and that a hatred of true progressivism, as well as crony capitalism, has hopelessly corrupted the DNC.

I think the real answer is far simpler, and a little more depressing. Dems** are more invested in winning over moderate suburban Republicans than historically Democratic working class counties is because suburban Republicans are their peers. These are their people. College educated home-owners who take at least one international vacation per year, these are folks they know how to talk to. When Chuck Schumer claimed that for every out-of-work rust belt worker who they lost, they'd gain moderates in the suburbs, he wasn't just espousing dubious political strategy, he was expressing the subconscious hope of a party that just simply doesn't know how-- and increasingly hasn't cared--  to talk to anyone they couldn't see themselves at a dinner party with. They want the votes of people their kids are going to private school with. Folks for whom student loans, health care, rising rents are social concerns, rather than personal ones, so all the arguments can be removed and civil.

This isn't nefarious, or evil, or even unusual-- it's a pretty normal trait to want to associate with, reach out to, and commiserate with people you have things in common with. It may be the most clumsily, sadly humanizing thing about a party apparatus that ignored urgent pleas from people on the ground in favor of data-models and is more likely to source from Tech or Wall Street than community organizers. I get it-- I'd rather hang out with my fellow jaded bartenders and musicians than pretty much anyone who works for the Democratic party. And maybe I'd go my way and they'd go theirs, and I'd trust them and all their vastly reasonable logic if it was working.

But it's not.


(*my favorite question is "How can we more effectively tie people to Trump. Let's make this state/local election a referendum on Trump." My my. If ONLY THERE HAD BEEN SOME ATTEMPT TO DO THIS ON A NATIONAL SCALE. If only we had some way to gauge whether running a negative campaign against Trump is effective. SADLY NO SUCH TRIAL HAS OCCURRED, SO WE BETTER JUST KEEP BAGGING ON TRUMP.)

(**Dems here refers largely to the funding/donor class, and many of those currently holding national office. Not the little old lady who volunteers after church. Feel free to comment with examples of the working class Dem Senator with a history of protecting workers rights; but do know that yes, I know they exist. And that there's a range of grassroots campaigns in the works or underway that are potentially transformative, etc etc)

Tepid takes is a new series of occasional, usual anecdotal musings a few days to months after the fact, usually around politics or social issues, for when a status update or series of tweets simply won't suffice.

22/30: Notes En Route Alongisde the March For Science

Darth Vaders with Han Solo signs.
Elbows to elbows to knees to smalls of backs.
Snide asides from the "justtryingtogettowork"
crowd about "finally a march I'm on board with."

Plenty of jokes. Plenty of quotes. Plenty of
white folks with dreadlocks. No sign of hacky sack
in the rain.

A bullhorn in the rapidly filling park.
Cheers. A switching tide of people,
toward and away from less clogged routes,
toward and away from shorter lines for coffee.

Plenty of portraits of obscure physicists next to
"It's Motherfucking SCIENCE BITCH" next to
grey haired ladies in rumpled gortex talking about
priests of nonviolence and the 70s and the
documentary their lone young companion should watch.

Storm troopers with anti-fa arm bands.
A chance to dress up in a casual town.
A swarming sea of blacks and blues and greens
and the thought that Science will continue
whether we recognize it or not,

much to the terror of the man pulling a radio
flyer with two brown haired children,
thumbsucking and curled up on eachother
like puppies.

13/30: Shadows of 45

The what-to-do? list.

An article about how an unlikely band of sculptors
ousted an Estonian autocrat in the early '00s, forwarded
by a friend you met twelve years ago in an attic.

This is the first from them in five years. Signed "stay strong."

The what-to-do? guilt.

First on the list, always feel guilty,
there  is never enough.

Bodies hit the floor, like in that song
you thought was funny once, full of
lead or pressed by men-cum-cyborgs
by weight of their machinery vests.

That paralyzing lilt in conversation, how
do you answer
"how are you
today?"

You just want to read your poems and eat your still-delicious
foods and-- no.
You just want to break windows and rise up and-- no.
You just want to know what you can do to help
and then your inbox is full and half the links
are viruses.

Setting aside the time
for vigilance,
the time for guard
to never
be
let
down. A week from tomorrow,
with friends at the park
with signs.

The what-to-do? Wait, every song too oblivious
or on-the-nose.

Til then, it's a bright and sunny day. nearly 80 in april.
try to enjoy it. don't think about what that means.

1/30: April First Death Dodger Roulette

911 phone lines
jammed for the
pranksters with the
alien invasions
and escaped zoo
animals running rampage
at the preschool.

Pray the bizarre tragic never
finds you on this calendar day.
Pray the demons in the back of
your grey stuff don't ooze their way
forward on this calendar day.
Pray that nuclear monsters don't
rise from the ocean, roaring
and thrashing, on this day,
with the Coast Guard on high alert
for pranks and faked
footage.

Don't waste your sympathy.
Keep your empathy sealed in Tupperware.
Don't believe everything you read
on the internet.

"Please, this is serious. My friend is crushed under an overturned
popcorn truck. Kernels are everywhere, and there's a terrible
loss of blood. Send help as soon as you can! This isn't a joke,
we don't have much time left."