Friday Talking Points [310] -- Courtin' Season
'Tis the season when the political press all goes a-courtin'. So to speak.
'Tis the season when the political press all goes a-courtin'. So to speak.
Yesterday was Fathers' Day. Most dads, even those who happen to be elected officials, were able to relax and enjoy the day by spending some time with their families. California legislators did not have this luxury, due to their own inactivity in the days leading up to a midnight legislative deadline. They worked throughout the weekend to produce the state's budget on time -- which they achieved, late yesterday. But the really newsworthy thing about this was why they decided to work the whole weekend instead of just ignoring the mandated deadline (which they used to routinely do). They put in the overtime hours for one reason and one reason alone: if they hadn't come to an agreement on time, their pay would have stopped at midnight. Call this story the success of the "no budget, no pay" idea, if you will.
When one usually speaks of the "fog of war," the term is generally understood to mean the disorganization of combat. When battles are fought, it is often unclear as to what is going on, whether you're a private in the trenches or a rear-echelon officer trying to keep on top of a developing situation under your command. What is also understood is that after a while, the fog usually clears somewhat. Things which aren't immediately apparent become clarified when enough time has passed for accurate reports of the situation to come in.
Karl Rove successfully manipulated the entire news media this week, so we are going to play along today. Rove's specialty is to take what could be considered a reasonable idea, and then twist it beyond recognition while dragging it through the swampiest mud he can dream up. Well, that's admittedly a terrible (and mixed) metaphor, but I think you get the general idea.
Paying handsome salaries for full-time religious officials in both houses of Congress is nothing short of an anachronism. Any member of Congress seeking spiritual guidance has many modern methods to communicate with the religious leaders of their choice, without taxpayers having to foot the bill for it. So while the argument rages over opening prayers, my question is a more practical one: why are we still paying these guys to morally instruct our legislators?
There was a lot of political news this week, most of it pretty good for Democrats. In the Senate, Democrats forced Republicans to filibuster a minimum wage bill (more on that in a bit), and then the week ended with some very good news in the unemployment numbers.
There were two political stampedes this week, both towards and then back away from the same man: rancher Cliven Bundy. Bundy was a strange hero for conservative Republicans to adopt, since he is essentially fighting for his right to be a "taker" (in "conservativese") from the federal government -- a right that he refuses to pay for, and by doing so has broken the law. So he's a law-breaker and he wants to mooch off the public for free -- two traits which conservatives routinely rail against. I guess conservative Republicans can be forgiven, since there was all the excitement of guns and going toe-to-toe with the dastardly gummint agents -- which always causes conservative hearts to swoon.
Former Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens has a new book out. In it, he proposes six new amendments to the United States Constitution. Three of these would change language in either the text of the Constitution or its amendments, and the other three are additions to the Constitution's text.
The people who see everything through the lens of partisan politics are currently playing a rather crass game which might be called "guess the date of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg's retirement." We'll get to the reasons for playing this game in a bit, but first the point must be made that Justice Ginsburg can stay right where she is for as long as she damn well feels like it. Which is entirely how it should be. Short of impeachment, the decision is hers and hers alone, as the Constitution demands. It matters not one tiny bit what anyone else thinks about her decision, which includes bored pundits looking to stir the partisan pot a bit in a slow news week.
Are political lies constitutionally-protected free speech? That's an intriguing question, and one that the Supreme Court is going to take up next week. What makes the question interesting is how a valid argument could be made either way, no matter what your personal politics. Both sides resent well-funded politicians who blanket the airwaves with what they see as the baldest of falsehoods, but on the other hand political free speech is an absolute bedrock of the American system of government. Where do you draw the line? Should a line even be drawn?