Political Predictions You'll Hear Nowhere Else

And based on my blog's incredible level of visits, followers and comments, you probably won't hear about them here either. But if you've read this far you might as well slog through the rest of it.



The Republicans will gain seats in the house of Representatives! Wow, that's bold! But not in numbers sufficient enough to gain control. I predict that they will gain 18 to 23 seats. Enough to become more obnoxious, but not enough to wrest control from the Democrats and Speaker Pelosi. And since the House is a majority-rule body, we'll just have to listen to Boehner's orange hued, powerless temper tantrums. But won't that make it harder for Pelosi to win votes? NO! Because the losses the Democrats experience will be almost exclusively Blue Dog Democrats who vote most of the time like Republicans anyways. Progressive majority holds in the house, at almost it's current level of strength.



The Republicans will gain seats in the Senate! My prediction is that they will gain two to four seats. The Democrats remain in theoretical control of the Senate, but there, because of filibuster and other arcane rules, the minority will still frustrate the will of the people. At least one or two of the lunatic fringe Tea Party (whatever the hell that really is) candidates will win. That means if progressives really want something, they're going to have to go balls to the wall to fight for it. And I mean US, those in the voting populace, not the Senators. Like FDR said, (paraphrasing), "You want me to do something? Make me!"



You won't here this prediction anywhere else, at least until we get very close to the election. All the mainstream media right now is nattering about the coming Republican Tsunami. I think they're wrong. I think things will still be muddied after the election. It will clear up two things. First, it is possible to go too far nutball right in this country - the fight for the soul of the republican Party will continue into 2012. Second, the Blue Dogs are going down much harder than Democrats in general. Think about it. If you're a conservative (regular style -not extra crunchy lunatic teabag style) and you have a choice between a Democrat who says he's a conservative or a Republican who IS a conservative, who are you gonna pick?

That's the good news. The bad news is that the extremist right is not going away, and will not take defeat well. I fear the most prophetic thing said this election cycle may be from R-Teanut Senate candidate - Nevada, who said that if they don't win the elections they may have to look to second amendment solutions. You see, most of us think the election is about management style, or the size and/or priorities of government. For these people, it's about the very soul of the nation, the last stand against the country being taken over by the "other". I fear that they are not going to go quietly into that good night. There is nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal backed into a corner with nothing left to lose.

God help us all.

New Coast 2

It’s a fine day in da Big Apple! The Mighty Dyke is holding back, despite the windy day and threatening sky. What can I say? A few floods and all the chickens vamoose. Not me. I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water! Ha! Dat’s funny!

I’m Ernie, by the by. Birth name’s Ernesto, but I like the feel of Ernie better. Makes me feel more American, but I got no problem with Ernesto either, if that’s what youse wants to use. I love this country, and I love Puerto Rico too. Really should be a state, at least what’s left of it, but that’s a whole different scenario, knowhutimean?

So here I am pecking away at this computer, communicatin’ with who the hell knows, for who the frak knows why. I think I’m just trying to reach out, let everybody know not to give up on the NYC yet. Also curious to know how things are going elsewhere. So glad Alfredo let me know about this. Internet sucks on this rock, don’t quite know how this is function-atin’, just grateful that it is.

Yeah, I know, at one time there were millions o’ people in Manhattan. I just want to make sure you knew that even though everyone thinks it’s shut down, there are still people here. Maybe not millions, but there are hundreds of thousands. Okay, I don’t precisely know, but I’m guessing anywheres from 300K to a half a million. But this is, whaddayacallit, an estimate. I don’t think anybody’s doing a census anymore.

First off, I need to emphasize, no matter what else you’ve heard, the Bloomberg Dyke is holding. Yeah, I know, there was the flood in ‘37 during Hurricane Jane, and several incidents in recent times, but I swear to god, would I be living here if I really thought the whole thing could come down? Mankind’s biggest engineering project, gotta give it some respect, knowhutimean?

My job? I’m an exterminator. Great work in a place where the rats outnumber the people about a thousand to one. I’m a freelance contractor, do most of my work for the city, about a quarter for private citizens. Mostly the few richies still here, but I do other work that if I was a lawyer you’d call pro bono. Really, all this makes me a very popular guy. Why would I want to leave?
I live on the 12th floor of a ritzy Park Avenue apartment building. I’ve been told that thirty or forty years ago this apartment rented for like 5,000 a month. I mean, like, what the hell? Who’s got that kind of scratch? Me, I’m also like a squatter. Pay about 250 a month. I got maybe two dozen neighbors in the whole building. Most of the apartments are just turning into crap. So I guess you can see why an exterminator can be so popular, eh?

Can’t really see the water anymore. Y’know, because of the tall dyke walls. We got a few observation decks you can climb if you really got the jones to see the water. Hell, Liberty and Ellis Island ain’t even there anymores. You have to look towards the Jersey shore to see the Statute of Liberty (sad it was when they had to move that).

My family don’t live here anymore. Have to go all the way to frakkin’ Scranton to see Mama, Papa, brothers, sisters. I’m not married now, although I was once. Sweet little Ramona, ran off with some prick musician -aw, I don’t really want to talk about it. We didn’t have no kids. Someday, I think, it would be nice to have a family of my own.I’m a really nice dude, pretty well off, but I’m also kinda short and dumpy. Whatkinido?

I think I’ll check off now. Thanks, Alfredo. It’s good for venting if nothing else. I look forward to hearing from youse people who don’t live surrounded by dykes. Hasta luego!

Echoes of '59

The closest I ever came to the supernatural was that summer of ’59 in Eugene, Oregon. My dad was a teacher, and he would fill his summer break each year by accepting a National Science Foundation Scholarship. One year it was Stanford University in Palo Alto, California. Another it was Ball State in Muncie, Indiana. That summer it was the University of Oregon.

That summer was weird and wonderful, filled with unexplained events that still mystify me. I was only four, my sister Carol was three, and it was our first real experience away from home, so maybe it was just the exotic newness of the locale. My parents had rented the top floor of a big Victorian house, set spookily on top of a hill (probably not that big of a hill, but impressive enough to a family from Michigan’s flatlands). Male college students occupied the first and second floors.

I remember the piercing introductory music of Perry Mason, my mother’s favorite show. Carol and I would hear it from our beds and shiver. I remember my first pet, a turtle that I took out onto the roof in the mistaken belief that he needed more sun. He required much less attention after that. I remember getting mad at Carol and shoving her down the stairs. In a normal world, she should have been maimed or killed, with me suffering horrendous guilt the rest of my natural born days. Instead she tumbled down like a gymnast doing an Olympic routine, popped up at the end of the stairs, and came flying back up ready to kick some brother butt. But what I remember most was the car we brought back to life.

We were playing in the front driveway when we got bored. So my sister conceived of a tag game where we would chase each other like idiots unless we could touch the safe spot first, which she decided in her infinite toddler wisdom should be a yellow Ford Mustang belonging to one of the college guys. Remembering Perry, the fried turtle, and Elastic Girl tumbling down the stairs, I said, “Are you crazy? That’s not our car! What if we break it or something?”

Carol laughed. “Stupy boy!” which, in her lingo, said it all. And then she proceeded to show me that it was okee-dokie to touch the car. She raced up to it and gave it a little whack on its front hood. I was paralyzed by her effrontery, but we were both horror struck by what happened next. The car started to back out the driveway, then turn into the street, and started to drive away! The college guy whose car it was came bursting out of the house, cursing us as little brats, and went running after his suddenly untamed Mustang.
Selective childhood memories repress what happened after that. Maybe we were spanked, maybe the college guy saddled his car before it wrecked, maybe his car made it to the fields where Mustangs roam free. I don’t know. It wasn’t until years later that it occurred to me that gravity and parking brakes could have played a role. I still prefer to think of it as I did in my youth, as one of those rare times when real magic echoed through our souls.