It's kind of bold to predict Virginia and Florida for Obama. If I've called those wrong, it will be OBAMA: 290 - ROMNEY: 248. I wouldn't change my popular vote prediction despite such a drastic shift in the electoral college, and that should tell you something.
My prediction counts on a strong electoral strategy for Obama and a relatively strong national turnout for Romney. We were at a point in the race when a 269-269 seemed more possible. Still, you can bet both campaigns have considered this scenario and have prepared to litigate their way out of a clear loss and into an electoral college tie.
Recent and some current polling suggests Romney could win the popular vote but lose the election. It could still happen. Republican enthusiasm could have a greater impact on the popular vote than the electoral college because of the GOP's regional strength in the South.
I nearly hope Obama wins the White House but loses the popular vote. Perhaps there will be enough Republicans bitching to make election reform a bigger issue. Colorado will be the closest state followed by Virginia. Wisconsin and Minnesota will be closer than most people think, partially because the latter has gay marriage on the ballot.
Think the Florida Recount of 2000 was ugly? An electoral college tie would mean that neither candidate has won a majority. The Republican controlled House of Representatives would elect the President and the Democrat controlled Senate would choose the Veep.
I have more poems and a few vignettes to share with you soon, but this is actually what I worked on today. It goes on for two pages and 688 words, but I shall just post an opening paragraph from the draft.
It looked like a grapefruit birthing itself through my torso. Immediately admitted to the hospital, I received emergency surgery for a deadly spider bite. I couldn’t bear to look at the wound then, but photos revealed what looked like a sedimentary canyon of skin, fat, muscle, and blood, ten inches across and two inches deep. As I made daily visits to a wound clinic to be stuffed with stiff, silver gauze, I was fired from my job at a deli and dumped by my live-in girlfriend of three years.
I like women in dresses I like women with brains. But they consider it for a minute or two upon knowing what I do and where I lay my head, how I get around and conclude, "He's not going no place good I can see," and wonder, "What's a guy like you doing in a woman like me?"
It takes grit to make it in America It takes more than you have to get what you need. It takes blood to bleed and teeth to gnaw through bone. It takes courage to pay down what you can't own. It takes not only charm but love to Make Love. It takes gumption to see what cannot be shown. It takes sight beyond sight to fly without flight. It takes not dying to keep on not living and It takes luck to build again once all is blown.
Written by
Dr. James McSaddle
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poems
Counting Fingers and Shaving Whiskers
I'm counting my fingers and flicking the lights in a vain and futile effort to control a hazed morningposing as a lucid dream. But the spinning lingers while smooth skin grows whiskers; Fighting a beard that wants to grow is never won until you die.
Poorly Formed Opinions No Surprise From Declining Publicatio
I guess it's a good thing that Mr. Thieleman is indifferent to torture, because getting through his most recent column was just that. It was so bloated with generic political invective I could have sworn that it was pieced together from crumpled up pieces of paper and cum-rags from the wastebasket in Glenn Beck's office.
For the record, Obama has:
Stopped the Great Recession from becoming and Apocalyptic Depression.
Saved the auto industry, which is now making green cars and turning a profit.
Reversed the federal ban on stem cell research.
Invested in green energy jobs and ordered new government buildings to be zero emission.
Reformed and expanded federal student aide, saving families $9 Billion.
Funded American cities that struggle with gang violence to fight against it..
Ended federal prosecution of Medical Marijuana users.
Preserved two million acres of wilderness that were threatened by loggers, miners and polluters.
Passed a stimulus bill that helped build and restore highways and railroads, which has been especially needed here in Michigan.
Cut taxes for the middle class and small businesses.
Moved health care further along than any President.
Saved Americans from pirates near Somalia.
Called for an end to "Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell", a heinously bigoted policy of discrimination.
Engaged the world in a more thoughtful and effective diplomacy.
Made his administration the most accessible and open in history.
And, he talks to Americans like they are intelligent adults. But even that can fall on deaf ears and numb skulls.
I cannot be sure what Mr. Thieleman and the right-wing ignorentisa have against making sure for-profit insurance is also for-people insurance. The President wants to keep insurance companies from denying coverage because of pre-existing conditions and see to it that access to health care is affordable for all. But, Mr. Thieleman’s ilk doesn’t mind that in the world’s richest country, people have to make the choice between food and medicine or staying alive and going into bankruptcy. That doesn’t happen in France, Germany, Sweden, or the U.K.
Mr. Thieleman would probably say that those countries are socialist. What does he imagine the quality of life is for people in those nations? They aren’t eating gruel or drinking from puddles. The truth is, their citizens experience a quality of life that matches or exceeds that of those in the United States. Drawing examples from what other nations do right isn't unpatriotic, it's something a President does when he loves his country and wants to see it prosper. I for one do not doubt our current Commander-In-Chief in this regard.
“Change” and “Hope” continue. Obama’s approval ratings are a virtual mirror to what Reagan endured politically early in his Presidency. The difference is, this President is charismatic and in addition, possesses a remarkable intellect.
President Obama has tried to work with a radical political minority that has been fueled by an angry and misinformed mob that feels marginalized by having an educated, intelligent, and black President. This group is most represented by people who show up to Presidential events with assault weapons and misspell “Socialism” and “Fascism” on their protest signs.
Despite this, he is the only President to go live on television and take questions from hostile and partisan adversaries in an effort to get something done. Obama will work with people who are willing to work with him, and finally he is calling out people like Mr. Thieleman for engaging in willful distortion and intentional disinformation. I suppose I shouldn’t accuse him of malice; Mr. Thieleman may simply be among those who aren’t educated or intelligent enough to know the difference. In which case, he has my pity.
As for “saving our own," Mr. Theileman doesn't even want the poor in this country to have access to health insurance, nor affordable education, nor a helping hand when they lose their job. The assertion that he wants to take care of people at all is absurd.
We can save the people facing impending doom in Haiti and the people struggling to keep their homes and get ahead in the U.S. Each ambition has a different objective and each mission uses different sets of resources. It's like saying that you can't mow your lawn and also donate to Goodwill.
Recovery at home would go along much faster if Mr. Theilman’s friends in congress didn't insist that The President needs 60 votes to sneeze and that 41 Senate votes justifies the total derailment of legislation directed toward economic recovery and improving people’s quality of life.
Unfortunately, Mr. Thieleman's and his right wing allies operate under the belief that short-term political gains are more important than moving the nation forward.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is a response to an Opinion written by Eric Thieleman in the State News on February 1, 2010. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Blake was walking up the stairs behind James at the Clinton-Washington avenue subway station. “What's with the hole on the back of your jeans?”
“My other good pair are crusted because of my unfortunate jaunts through heavily salted slush puddles. I really should wash them before the salt starts to eat through them. I can’t believe we got all that snow!” “I can’t believe it’s gone already. When did you decide that the jeans were unwearable?”
James laughed and looked back. “I guess last Sunday. I knew that I couldn't wear the jeans again without washing them. The filth made me a spectacle.”
Blake scoffed as he shifted his messenger bag. “So why not wash them? You have free laundry at your place, right?”
“Well, you don't want to wash your denim too often. The oils and stuff in your skin makes the denim sort of custom fit you.” Blake scoffed louder. “That’s gross, man.”
James and Blake walked onto the sidewalk toward the park. The snow had already melted. The ground was wet but the sun was warm and the sky was blue. “No, I insist that this is the best way to wear jeans.”
James stopped at the drinking fountain for some water. “Wear them at least three days a week and wash them at a maximum of once a month.” “Why?!”
“Because, you start with a somewhat snug fit and they transform into a pair of custom fit jeans. The denim takes on your shape and it fits you better than it could ever fit anyone else. And, in fact, no one else should every wear your jeans. You should be able to wear them until the day you die.”
“It seems like if you wore them that much they would wear out a lot faster, though I guess you never know when you’ll die. Still, this assumes that a persons waistline stays the same through the ages,” said Blake.
“Maybe it's an incentive to age more gracefully. Having old denim to serve as a reference point through the decades?” James said as he pulled the Frisbee from his bag. “Don't jeans change style over time? Like, wont those just look like cheap old shit in 5 to 15 years? Throw it.”
James threw the Frisbee to Blake. “Some things change, but the kind of fit that works for you never does”. Blake catches the Frisbee. “Given the presumption that you don’t change.“ Blake threw the Frisbee and it hooked right.
James sprinted to catch the Frisbee. “A little incentive never hurt anyone.” He picked it up from the wet ground and threw it back to Blake.
Note: I encourage everyone to take a look at Sarah Palin's fan page on Facebook™ It's quite a freak show. My posts have been removed and I am banned from making further comments on her wall. Republicans hate Free Speech, so you should go write something antagonistic and degrading on her wall right now. Make sure you do a screen capture, because they will remove it from the board within a couple minutes. If you send it to James.McSaddle@gmail.com I will post it on TheTruth.
Best of luck!
Palin Supporter: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door" This is the inscription written on the Statue of Liberty which was given to us by France, after we liberated that country. Think about this for a minute. Where else will the people of the world go if America becomes just like the country they are trying to escape?"
McSaddle: You sound about as smart as Sarah Palin.
The Statue of Liberty was a gift from France to celebrate the 100 year anniversary that the Declaration Of Independence was signed. You know, when THEY helped liberate us from Britain, not when the Allies liberated France in WWII. Maybe do a fact check next time?
The "huddled masses" poem, or "The New Colossus" was added years later to celebrate America's history of immigration. Also, it's not written on the outside of the statue, it's on the inside.
You should know that the Huddled Masses get a better deal in France, where they are secure in their economic well being and everyone has access to world class health care. The food is pretty good too.
None of this matters, because you come off as someone who calls french fries "Freedom Fries", who cheers on the Minute Men, and who purports that looking after the poor and sick is the same as socialism.
How many people in France go bankrupt because they can't pay for their medical needs versus that United States?
Sarah Palin: Clearly not a thinking person's candidate.
Republicans = ♥ (Crazy > Smart) The Most Abrasive Liberal Rhetoric Is Lukewarm Compared To The Right Wing by Dr. James McSaddle
Florida Congressman Alan Grayson was criticized for calling out Republicans on their failure to to offer solutions to the serious and far reaching problems that face our current health care system.
The cost of care is going up and the quality of care is going down. We have an inexcusably high infant mortality rate and too many people go bankrupt or die because of the dishonesty of the for-profit insurance industry. CongresmanGrayson's aggressive posture is far less offensive than the outright lie-mongering, distortion, and incitement to fear that have become a part of the Republicans "brand".
It's difficult to listen to G.O.P. leaders call Obama a fascist, especially when the Patriot Act and FISA permitted the federal government to conduct unconstitutional searches, seizures and surveillance against American citizens.
It's especially difficult to hear Republicans compare Obama to Hitler while their own political success hinges upon the effectiveness of their lies and intimidation. The best hope for the Conservative Movement is the prevalence and persistence of the willful ignorance a person needs to believe what they say.
Their constituency consists primarily of those whose psychology is so frail that they believe Barack Obama was born in Kenya and that the poor and sick should be sentenced to death for being poor and sick. Some of them show up with AR-15s and other implements usually reserved for the battlefield or the apocalypse.
Somehow for-profit insurance corporations has gotten a visible number of angry white rubes to yell, stomp, and spit on their behalf in the public square. . .I'll never quite understand it.
I know that the Republicans are keen on death and destruction, but it's intellectually dishonest, even for a them, to subscribe to and embrace this genocidal social Darwinism while doubting the validity of evolution.
They would rather be crazy than smart, they would rather cultivate sociopaths than intellectuals; they would rather the collect campaign contributions from polluters and let humanity die on an uninhabitable planet than work to limit pollution; they would rather spend a trillion dollars on a war of aggression than on creating jobs or improving education.
I don't think it's particularly partisan to think that the G.O.P. platform represents a gross and perverted value system.
James McSaddle Is: THE LAZARUS MAN by Dr. James McSaddle
Clearly it isn't Robert Urich, or else he would have come back from the dead to try the new sliders* at Burger King.
However, I am back from an extended hiatus. Let me give you a few reasons why I haven't been posting.
1.) My short stories and essays have been for class and they are of very little interest to my readers.
And myself.
2.) My schooling is fucked, I've moved, and I have had to look for a 'real' job. I've even applied for jobs in politics despite my insistence that I would never again do so. Poverty has a funny way of making you do desperate things.
Some people become thugs and pushers, others become prostitutes, and if I get back into politics, I'll be doing a combination of such deeds, thereof.
3.) I am getting ready to spend five weeks in Europe.
4.) I started a novel. Yup, I did it. I was going strong late April, and then the above shit happened and I haven't even looked at it in a month. But, I am going to go at it again as soon as I am done with this post.
I've been wanting to write about Torture Gate, the Sotamayor appointment, American Democratic Socialism, Conan, and David Carradine, but I just haven't had a moment to be in my own head about anything.
I am again prepared to give you frequent assessments on the banalities produced by my cognition. If that's why you look at this blog, you're in luck, because I'm back.
If you don't like it, you can close this tab and go back to jacking off to bestiality porn.
*"Burger Shots" I guess are what they call them. They aren't great, I prefer a real burger myself, especially as they have sesame seeds on the bun.
Today Azlan is celebrating liberation from hostile occupying forces. With a clearer head and mended soul he climbs onto and hikes over the rubble to see how he can clear it out.
Not soon enough he will build a new nation from what is left and what can be made.
Since it takes less time to count blessings than it takes to count the casualties, Azlan makes a rare but sincere prayer that the world would learn to remember:
The Gulf Coast of Mississippi is a poorer-man’s west Florida. Before the casinos set up shop in the early 90s, the Biloxi area enjoyed miles of white sandy coastline near water. Most days it looked to be a mosaic of blue and silver glass beads.
After the tide rolled back near dusk, I would collect seashells. I always checked them for crabs. Once, I reached my small, wet, and sandy hand into a conch shell and a gray little bug pinched my fingertip. I yelped, but I didn’t cry, it didn’t hurt too bad. I learned that the hazards of the ocean were different than the hazards of the West Michigan lake shore.I took special note of the washed up jellyfish and Man o’ Wars that rolled in with volumes after every real storm. Those worried me more than the stingrays or the small gray finetooth sharks, because they are nearly invisible. I figured that if I got a shark bite, at least I would have stories to tell. But, I didn't and I don't. Except for the crab, the Gulf’s predators never made prey of me.
Across from the place where you could once rent Sea-Doos, there was a souvenir shop and an old shrimping boat that was washed to shore by Hurricane Camille. Shrimping boats could be seen off in the blue-gray horizon each dawn. To get the freshest catch you would meet shrimpers at the docks at 8 A.M to buy the world’s finest shrimp dirt cheap.
Grubby shrimpers with more scars than teeth would sometimes slice one open in front of you to show you how meaty they are how easy the vein came out. Because of the availability of fresh ingredients, shrimp gumbo was served everywhere. They best might have been the Rusty Pelican, a dive restaurant near my grandparents home.
The sign out front had a large cartoon pelican, and it said in bold letters: PO-BOYS, GUMBO, CHICKEN, FISH, SEAFOOD. A Po-Boy is a large submarine sandwich with thick bread. The best one at the Rusty Pelican had fried crab cakes and was served with a hushpuppy and about a pound of salty carnival fries that were perfectly accompanied by a few splashes of malt vinegar. If you had room, you could also get a slice of Key Lime Pie.
With the humidity, white sand, and bounties of citrus, you would think you were in one of Florida’s finer vacation destinations if not for the prevalence of the Confederate Flag and middle age men going into town without shirts and/or shoes.
At a small market in Pass Christian with my grandparents, I remember a black man in a straw fedora coming into the store, and continence of the old fat man at the register changed completely. With his dry blue-gray eyes he followed him through the store. He stepped a few feet and pulled out a small wooden bat, like a little leaguer might use, out from behind a tall garbage can and he leaned it out of view where he stood near the register.
While grandpa was looking over the booze, the black man made his way through the store. He picked up a bag of potato chips, and a couple of big bottles of beer.
Grandpa paid for his bottle of Seagram’s 7, a copy of The Times-Picayune, and a 3 Musketeers for me, and we headed out. Before we could get to the door the black man went to checkout and man behind the counter told the black man to empty his pockets. By the look of his brown furrowed brow, he was perturbed, but he was used to things and he politely complied. With his chapped hands, he reached into his pocket and laid out on the counter a red Bic lighter, rolling papers, tobacco, his I.D., and a small wad of bills. "I ain't got nothin," he said.
He hadn’t stolen anything. The man behind the counter rang him up. When grandpa and I got back to the car where my grandmother was waiting, I buckled-up in the back seat while my grandfather told her about how Ray shook the man down. “Nigger shit”, said my grandmother. “It’s always nigger shit”.
You'll have to go someplace bigger and less dry to see how hot you really get. And if you really put yourself into it and I mean REALLY put yourself into it you can burn that place down too.
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