All posts by Rama Schneider

S.108, IRV and the disgusting Douglas lies

Apologies if anyone has already posted Douglas’ statement regarding his veto of instant runoff voting for our federal House and Senate seats … but here it is just in case not.

My first comment immediately follows Douglas bullshit ….

April 4, 2008

The Honorable David A. Gibson Secretary of the Senate State House 115 State St., Drawer 33 Montpelier, VT 05633

Dear Mr. Secretary:

Pursuant to Chapter II, Section 11 of the Vermont Constitution, I am returning S. 108, An Act Relating to the Election of U.S. Representative and U.S. Senator by the Instant Runoff Voting Method, without my signature because of objections described herein. There are serious flaws with this proposal to alter Vermont’s system of elections. This system has served the people of Vermont well for more than 200 years and is one I had the privilege of administering for a dozen years as Secretary of State. This bill circumvents the fundamental democratic principle of one person, one vote. That is entirely unacceptable. The authors of our Constitution applied this standard – compelling each voter to choose the candidate for each office that she or he deems most qualified – to ensure that elections are in fact a clear choice.

(Governor’s website)

And it just continues to get worse …

The Attorney General’s office has confirmed in a formal, written opinion that attempts to amend the law in order to apply the so called Instant Runoff Voting (IRV) process to races for Governor, Lieutenant Governor and Treasurer would, in fact, be unconstitutional. While S. 108 would apply to the election of our U.S. Representative and U.S. Senator, this does not render the attempt to legislatively impose IRV democratically sound.

Our state Constitution provides a clear and effective mechanism for changes to its provisions. Voter approval, through the process set forth in our Constitution for its amendment, necessitates a statewide ballot that includes the voices of all Vermonters. If the Legislature proposes to fundamentally alter our election process, this is the procedure Vermont should follow. The Honorable David A. Gibson April 4, 2008 Page Two

Moreover, voters should not be asked to cast their ballots based on a wide range of hypothetical, theoretical or imaginary outcomes. Elections have always been, and ought to remain, contests among individual candidates and their ideas. Voters have always, and should continue to, cast their constitutionally protected vote for the individual for each office they believe would best serve Vermont. In addition, the process offered by this bill cannot result in a candidate being the top choice of a majority of voters. It is mathematically impossible for the candidate chosen by the IRV process to receive a majority of first votes cast. In other words, use of an IRV system requires a significant number of second and third choices – not the voter’s real choice – to be counted. It is therefore not valid to conclude, as the advocates and special interests do, that the winner of an IRV election would receive a majority of the vote. Finally, this system would undoubtedly lead to backroom deal making between candidates who urge supporters to vote for or against a second choice candidate if no one receives a majority. This would erode public confidence in the process. This proposal would cause a deterioration of our time tested, democratic and egalitarian electoral process. The current system has served the people of Vermont well for more than 200 years. There is no basis to make the democratically unsound change this bill proposes.

Sincerely,

James H. Douglas Governor

JHD/jg

For today I’m going to deal with this sentence: “It is mathematically impossible for the candidate chosen by the IRV process to receive a majority of first votes cast.

Well, okay, no explanation needed. Douglas is willing to put such a blatant lie in print … it leaves my fingers relatively typeless.

And nobody will run a negative campaign against this clown?

Why Obama still isn’t good enough …

Senator Barack Obama said Friday he would return the country to the more traditional foreign policy efforts of past presidents, such as George H.W. Bush, John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan.

At a town hall event at a local high school gymnasium, Obama praised George H.W. Bush – father of the president – for the way he handled the first Gulf War: with a large coalition and carefully defined objectives.

(Obama likens his foreign policy to that of Bush Sr., JFK, Reagan, Haaretz, 03/29/08)

This is a major, major downside to an Obama presidency. Every time he has an opportunity to talk to non-violence and why war is undesirable, it seems Obama instead follows the militant lead of our nation’s ultra-violent imperialism.

Every time I hear or read of Obama talking like this it makes it more and more unlikely I would vote for him.

The Whine Line continues ….

It seems there are some posters here on GMD who are intent on blaming the Vermont Progressive Party and/or Anthony Pollina for every Democratic Party failure.

Shumlin couldn’t get elected Lt. Governor years ago? Blame Anthony. Dems can’t find a gubernatorial candidate? Blame Anthony.

Dems won’t stand up to Douglas or Bush and the big war machine? Dems sign on to stupid bankruptcy bills and laws enabling the government to spy on us? Dems won’t protect the nation by not only putting impeachment on the table but making use of it?

GODDAMN YOU POLLINA!

If only the Vermont Progressive Party and Anthony Pollina would go away. The flowers would bloom, children would behave and Santa Claus would come once a week.

Damn you Pollina.

Okay, so how big is THIS iceberg?

Last year we were told about nuclear warhead armed cruise missiles being flown around the country by accident (see here and more importantly here).

Now we’re being told about nuclear missile parts being accidentally being shipped to Taiwan (see here for just one of many news bits).

So what does the hidden part of this iceberg look like? I can’t help but believe we’re only seeing a small part of a larger movement that is being carefully hidden from us.

Thankfully, however, impeachment is kept safely off the table in part by our wonderful trio of federal lawmakers.

Coming soon to a voting booth near you!

Quoting the Progressive Party news letter:

Instant Runoff Voting, S.108, has passed the House and Senate.  It is expected to hit the desk of Governor Douglas by the end of the week.  While Douglas has publicly said that he does not like IRV, there are some signs that he may be willing to let it pass into law without his signature.

Douglas signed the last IRV bill sent to his desk, a Burlington charter change that took effect in 2006.  Given IRV’s huge success in Burlington (99.9% valid ballots), a Douglas veto would say either democracy is good for Burlington but bad for the rest of the state, or IRV is bad for Vermont, but he doesn’t care about elections in Burlington.

There is wide support for IRV, from groups ranging from the League of Women Voters to the Utah State Republican Committee, from John McCain and Barack Obama, from the 53 of 56 towns that supported the change in past town meeting resolutions, and from the large number of phone calls coming into the Governor’s office over the past several days.

If majority winners in elections are important to you, please take time today to call Governor Douglas’ office at: 800-649-6825.

No better way to put it.

Economic silliness and a question

First a caveat: I don’t think today’s mortgage crisis is the cause of our current economic regression. It is, in my opinion, merely a deliberately caused symptom of modern day cheap labor capitalistic theology. But that’s been discussed before on this board, and I’m sure will be again  … just not here and now.

In a previous discussion folks were asked to list their top five items regarding what should be done to improve Vermont’s economic condition. In my interpretation of the ensuing posts and replies the general consensus was to work with today’s list of Acronyms such VEDA and others.

I argued that we needed to change our way of thinking about our economy … and today’s Washington Post provides a great story that illustrates (in part) why I feel that way.

Now that the Federal Reserve has pledged billions of dollars to rescue Wall Street bankers from possible default, lawmakers and regulators are turning their attention to helping average citizens — from homeowners in danger of foreclosure to people who want to buy a home.

(Democrats, Bush Square Off Over Housing Relief, Washington Post, 03/20/08)

The short version of this story, and the story of all the proposals regarding this issue, is simple: we’ll buy our way out of our debt hole by making it easier to go further into debt.

I know … it makes absolutely no sense! But that is exactly what has been, is being and will be proposed by big business and big government.

The thinking behind this is extremely simplistic: we need to “grow” the economy. And that is the mantra … “grow” the economy even when this “growth” is really nothing but an upwards transfer of wealth or destroys our only source of food, water, air and shelter (aka the physical environment), wrecks our health or poisons our minds with gobs of useless pandering information.

So here is MY economic question: at what point should we say “Fuck phony growth: let’s get strong!”

Merely eloquent?

Why are people eloquent? Is it because, as McCain/Clinton would have you believe, there is nothing there? Or is it because the eloquent speaker has an understanding of history, the present and the future?

In some people it is indeed simple vacuousness (see here for a real eye opening “gaffe” from McCain). But in Obama’s case I’ve come to believe his eloquence comes from a real and honest understanding.

I’m not entirely sold on Obama yet, but below the fold is his speech from today …

Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America’s improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation’s original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least twenty more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution – a Constitution that had at is very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part – through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk – to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign – to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together – unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction – towards a better future for of children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton’s Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I’ve gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world’s poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners – an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It’s a story that hasn’t made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts – that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either “too black” or “not black enough.” We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we’ve heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it’s based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we’ve heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely – just as I’m sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren’t simply controversial. They weren’t simply a religious leader’s effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country – a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright’s comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems – two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and You Tube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn’t all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God’s work here on Earth – by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

“People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend’s voice up into the rafters….And in that single note – hope! – I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion’s den, Ezekiel’s field of dry bones. Those stories – of survival, and freedom, and hope – became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn’t need to feel shame about…memories that all people might study and cherish – and with which we could start to rebuild.”

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety – the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity’s services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions – the good and the bad – of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother – a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America – to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we’ve never really worked through – a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, “The past isn’t dead and buried. In fact, it isn’t even past.” We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven’t fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today’s black and white students.

Legalized discrimination – where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments – meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today’s urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one’s family, contributed to the erosion of black families – a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods – parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement – all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What’s remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn’t make it – those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations – those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright’s generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician’s own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright’s sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don’t feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience – as far as they’re concerned, no one’s handed them anything, they’ve built it from scratch. They’ve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they’re told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren’t always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze – a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns – this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It’s a racial stalemate we’ve been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naïve as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy – particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction – a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people – that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice is we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances – for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs – to the larger aspirations of all Americans — the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives – by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American – and yes, conservative – notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wright’s sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright’s sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It’s that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country – a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old — is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know — what we have seen – is that America can change. That is true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope – the audacity to hope – for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination – and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past – are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds – by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world’s great religions demand – that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother’s keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister’s keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle – as we did in the OJ trial – or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina – or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright’s sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she’s playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we’ll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, “Not this time.” This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can’t learn; that those kids who don’t look like us are somebody else’s problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don’t have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn’t look like you might take your job; it’s that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should’ve been authorized and never should’ve been waged, and we want to talk about how we’ll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for President if I didn’t believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation – the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I’d like to leave you with today – a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King’s birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that’s when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother’s problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn’t. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they’re supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who’s been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he’s there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, “I am here because of Ashley.”

“I’m here because of Ashley.” By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

Good thing we’re not talking about left leaning composting operations ..

( – promoted by JDRyan)

else the state might have to … well … enforce some environmental standards.

From the Burlington Free Press

The Vermont Natural Resources Council visited 29 randomly selected construction sites around the state last summer and found virtually all were not taking what are often simple measures to prevent erosion and control sediment, said Kim Greenwood, the council’s staff scientist who conducted the study.

Greenwood, a former staff member of the state Agency of Natural Resources, said the state also declined to punish violators, fining only two developers in the past eight years.

Agency officials defended the state’s stormwater program and said changes made in 2006 called for a period of education rather than enforcement.

Peter LaFlamme, director of the Department of Environmental Conservation’s Division of Water Quality, said last year the state increased its inspections of construction sites and once the rules are more well known the state will likely have tougher enforcement. The agency is establishing a new compliance and enforcement center that will establish standards for when to go after violators, he said. “We’ve worked with people in a cooperative manner,” he said.

My head hurts.

Here we go for real (I think)

(FP’ing this because it’s very important that we call Governor Douglas on Monday and ask him to sign the bill. Spread the word, and major h/t to Rama for all the work he’s put into this. I added the phone #’s to the bottom of the post. – promoted by JDRyan)

(Cross posted from VermontIRV and mostly quoted from the Vermont Progressive Party)

From the Vermont Progressive Party newsletter:

Nothing is ever certain in the legislature, but after years and years, it appears the House is ready to pass IRV and send it to Governor Douglas for a signature.  Take a moment to contact your Representative and urge them to support IRV on the House floor.  Rep. Chris Pearson will present the bill on the floor. You can listen to the debate Thursday afternoon on VPR’s stream.

(from JD) – The governor’s phone number is 802-828-3333, or the toll-free in VT number is 800-649-6825. Please call on Monday.

Plagiarism … to be or not to be …

that certainly is the question.

From The New Oxford American Dictionary:

the practice of taking some else’s work or ideas and passing them off as one’s own.

(No way am I going to claim credit for that definition … I’m no plagarist.)

I want to move beyond the irony of a bunch of pundits using pre-distributed talking points to beat up on Obama for “plagiarizing” a few words shared by and with friends (and even others maybe).

I want ask a question: where did Obama claim credit for coming up with the phrases and ideas he’s being accused of plagiarizing? Maybe I’m wrong, but I can’t seem to find Obama saying “This idea, which is all my own, … ”

If Obama is plagiarizing then we all are plagiarist. After all every concept I have is built upon previous knowledge.

So I think the pundits who spend their days being plagiarists with pre-supplied talking points should just shut up … they’ve proven to be profoundly non-useful anyway.