| 27 October 2006 Rock Bottom I glanced at my watch, wondering what vagary of Washington rush hour had delayed my appointment. Traffic was brisk at the bar, commuters ducking in before jumping on the subway home. I enjoyed the first beer. It was a Virginia pale ale, a little bitter and quite tasty. I don't drink much beer these days, preferring the direct route to wherever it is I am going and without the bulk. But if one is waiting, a pint of robust amber liquid is a fine thing. I watched the door of the Rock Bottom Tavern over in Ballston. It is a dark-wood hang-out, popular with the younger residents of the vibrant Wilson Corridor nighborhood. I once made the mistake of visiting there at dollar beer night, when they sell micro-brewed pints for a buck, and there was near rioting. It was not conducive to a discussion about a sales strategy and we had to move the meeting to someplace more sedate. Tonight was about right. There was enough activity to be interesting yet no one was leaning over my back to get closer to the bar. I was meeting a professional associate for one of our periodic interventions. He is a recovering Democrat, and he fears that I might be leaning the other way, abandoning the values of strength and determination. I think he is afraid I might be getting soft. That could result in disaster, just as the loss of a nail in the old maxim cascaded into the loss of the battle and the war. I assured him that there was no possibility that my vote would influence the struggle for the House. My Congressman, a Democrat, is a bluff Irishman who is noted for aberrant personal behavior but apparently has his medication right now. He will undoubtedly be returned with an overwhelming majority in this district, and I could just as well stay home. I will vote for his opponent, a veteran, as a matter of personal preference, and to keep the incumbant on his toes. I will also be voting against the Democratic hegemony in the county race for Supervisor, since although there is a surplus in the treasury, the incumbents raised taxes, claiming there were many good works they could perform, though they are not completely sure where they spent the money last year. So as far as I am concerned, my exercise of the franchise in local events and the House of Representatives is simply a demonstration of commitment to the system, and will mean nothing beyond that. If the election results in the change of the majority, so be it. That is the will of the people. My pal snorted. He has a history of compassion, which accounts for his history as a Democrat, but is concerned with the way the party is going. Another beer and some nachos propelling the discussion into the relative merits of the Senate race. Since there are no facts in the campaign rhetoric, it is difficult to identify where the candidates stand on any issue that has relevance to reality. I mentioned that the Senator I was prepared to vote against appeared to be an idiot. That wasn't good enough, since according to the media there is ample evidence on both sides. I have heard otherwise rational-sounding campaign material claiming that an incumbent “voted against body-armor for the troops,” which is absurd. There was a provision about body armor in the legislation in question, but it was part of a gigantic omnibus authorization that was larded with earmarks and pork. In that case, voting for the armor would also have meant voting for magnificent bridges to nowhere. “OK,” said my pal. “Isn't it possible that all this noise about the racial slur is just a misquotation? After all, the media is totally mobilized against the Republicans.” I had to ponder that one for a moment. I listen to National Public Radio, read the Times of New York, and watch Keith Olberman on MSNBC. All can be fairly categorized as leaning left of center, as do many of the mainstream print media. But what passes for Conservatism these days has its own television network, and rules talk radio, Air America notwithstanding. “I think you can find what you are looking for,” I said. There is nothing as monolithic as it was in Walter Cronkeit's day. But the slur is why I think the candidate is an idiot.” “I don't even know what it means. It might be nothing.” I shrugged. “As best I can tell, the word was “makaka,” or something that sounded like it. The derivation is said to be African in origin, a disparaging comparison to a small monkey of the Macaque species.” “Do you believe it?” my friend asked. “I believe that when you are running for office and advance on a person of color holding a camera and call him anything, you are demonstrating poor judgment. And that was the same week he revealed that his mother had never told him what religion she was.” “That may be. But I still think that the outrage about it is just the media trying to change the election.” “True enough,” I said, sipping my beer pensively. “Politics is an ugly thing. The incumbent is even digging up statements the challenger made during the Tailhook scandal twenty years ago. The ads present it like the candidate supported assault on all those women.” “Then you can't believe any of it, not a word. ” “True enough. I would say this is all just about rock bottom for issues, except the one that matters the most, and they are not talking about it. There is a war on, and kids are in harm's way. I am not hearing much except hope that things will get better on the one side, and get out as soon as possible on the other. That is how we managed to salvage defeat in Southeast Asia. The stakes are much higher on this one." "That is what the next election will be about. The next campaign is going to be worse." "We always say that, and we are always right." "The one thing I know for certain," I said owlishly, "is that energy, stem cell research are not issues in this Senate race. They are trotting out Gay Marriage again as something big. All I know is this: the challenger won the Navy Cross, and the incumbent did not serve. I think I will vote for the hero, and take my chances with the rest.” Copyright 2006 Vic Socotra |