I'm Optimistic

 

Pam and I have been working political campaigns full-time since 1990 -- the first Harvey Gantt insurgency against Sen. Jesse Helms. I was a political fetus in 1990, so I believed Harvey was going to win because of what was happening in Watauga. (Our winning margin for Harvey turned out that year to be 1,000+ votes.) But Gantt still lost statewide, and I was caught completely unprepared for loss. I hibernated in a dark place for days and thought I'd never get involved in a political campaign again.

But the bite of the political bug is deep and fairly incurable. We were back in 1991, working municipal races, and then we continued every year afterward, often at a fever pitch that never let up. County commission campaigns, Sheriff campaigns, Congressional campaigns, everything campaigns.

There've been plenty of losses since 1990, both in this county and in statewide races we worked on. So, duh! I certainly learned the foolishness of predicting victory prematurely, though after 30+ years in political organizing, I've come to appreciate the "feel" of an election contest as E-Day approaches.

Right now, and at the most crucial moment, things feel right. Things feel aligned. God's in his Heaven... (I'm not going to finish that famous line from Robert Browning*, because I'm not actually insane.)

I saw numbers this morning from Buncombe County, probably the most devastated real estate in North Carolina from the Helene floods, but yet Democratic performance is UP there over 2020, while Republican performance is down by over 7%. It's a different story in Watauga, granted, with Republicans currently outpolling Democrats by some 545 votes, but the Unaffiliated vote has both parties beat by over 11,000. That makes me feel good, because the vast majority of those Unaffiliated are under the age of 25, and women are out-voting men in Watauga by 2,720.

Then comes the Iowa poll (and I know, I know -- I don't like polls, especially when they make me nervous in a bad way) which shows Kamala Harris leading Donald J. Trump by 3 points, a shift from 2020 of some 11 points. Trump took Iowa in 2020 by +8. That's a huge shift. Mind-blowing in fact. The Economist applied some math, and because of the famed accuracy of Selzer Polling, they (just for giggles) applied that shift of attitude to other states and came up with a possible Harris/Walz landslide of 416 electoral votes. (Selzer Polling is the outfit behind the final Des Moines Register/Mediacom poll of Iowa. Selzer is "a high-quality pollster. It is rated as one of the best in the country by FiveThirtyEight, which tracks polling accuracy. The Selzer Poll is recognised for its success projecting the Iowa caucus.")

Maybe my clincher for optimism is the spirit of the volunteer corps that has arisen against the prospect of another Trump presidency, an absolute and honest-to-gawd coalition of some unlikely allies and the most dedicated, persistent cohort of enthusiastic volunteers we've seen since 2008. It's real, this surge of psychic energy, this will to act, to do something, to stop a real and dangerous wrong.

*The year's at the spring,

And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven;

The hill-side's dew-pearl'd;

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn;

God's in His heaven,

All's right with the world!

Early Voting, Day 1 in NC -- Photographic Evidence

 

Weaverville

West Charlotte

Wake County

Durham

Black Mountain

Unspecified "Small Town NC"

The Continued Destruction of Public Education in NC. Why the GOP Super-Majority Must Be Broken in 2024

 

An important veto last Friday (Sept. 20th) by Governor Cooper of NCGOP legislation that allocates several hundred million more dollars to an expanded private school voucher program, money that can absolutely be handed out equally to the rich and privileged, who hardly need taxpayer money to afford school for their offspring. It's an astounding piece of legislation demonstrating the ethereal wishes of a group of people who have been dismantling public support for public education for years and who as a collective actually supports the ambitions of Michele Morrow, who would gut public education for the Lord, as Superintendent of Public Instruction.

Of course, the Republicans in the GA can and will override Cooper's veto, because they have super-majorities in each chamber, but super-majorities of only one vote, so Democrats have their best chance in years to break that super-majority and earn the right to uphold the vetoes of our next Democratic governor. (You don't need to be reminded, of course, that the famous super-majority-making Tricia Cotham, who became turncoat, is currently in a death-match with Democrat Nicole Sidman for her House seat. Cotham''s district was obligingly gerrymandered to alleviate her vast unpopularity with both Democrats and independents, but was the gerrymandering sufficient to save her? Maybe not, in a blue wave.)

Last Friday Cooper also vetoed a strong-armed measure to force sheriffs to cooperate with Federal immigration enforcement officers and turn over any arrestees who might be undocumented to ICE's tender mercies. The Trump mentality of "make 'em feel the whip" quickly invaded some Federal agencies more than others.

This year has felt right for a political change of hue, a blue wave that could wipe out super-majorities, if not whole careers. The atmosphere has grown tremblingly pregnant ever since Joe stepped aside and Kamala took over the crusade, and for that selfless and no doubt incredibly painful self-sacrifice, President Biden deserves and no doubt in my mind will have the lasting kudos of history.

 

Why We Fight

 

By Jack Yordy

When COVID hit, I needed friendship and community more than ever. I sought these in the only safe place at the time, online, and I found it. I met people through playing games and common interests, and we formed our own little diverse queer community, my first LGBTQ+ friends. In 2022, when we were all vaccinated and ready to return to life outside of isolation, my online friends and I met in Chicago, and there they became my real friends. (For their privacy, I’ve changed their names.) 

Last weekend, I went to see them for the fifth time. I was picked up from the airport by James. He’s not very politically-oriented, but every time we get together we go to the bar and talk politics. I always look forward to those chats. He’s from California originally, and he used to enjoy hearing about the ridiculousness that goes on in red states. Last year he moved to Florida with his boyfriend, and he confided in me over a drink, “Man, it kind of feels like we’re always under attack now.”

On the second day, when everyone had arrived, we all went to the pool together. Corey was excited to go. He’s transgender and is self conscious about his body, but he’s also one of the bravest and most badass people I’ve known. He doesn’t like to embrace people he doesn’t know well, but he always says to me, “Alright, bring it in buddy!” He gives the best hugs. 

On Monday, I said my goodbyes in one of our hotel rooms. I walked out the door toward the elevators, and Sam yelled through the door, “Jack, no.” He ran down the hall and nearly tackled me. Half jokingly, he said, “Don’t leave, bro! When will I get to see you again?” Sam is the most carefree, hilarious, playful dude you’ll ever meet, but if you asked him what he wants to do with his life, he’d tell you he wants to raise kids with his future husband and spend time with his family and friends. I held onto him for a few extra moments before I had to go. 

On the flight home, I thought about what I’d do when I returned to school and work. I remembered the election. I remembered Project 2025, the rise of the far right, and the hateful, genocidal rhetoric being thrown at trans people. I remembered what James said about feeling unsafe and attacked. I remembered that Corey, who needs to take testosterone for the rest of his life, lives in a state where gender-affirming care for adults is at risk of being banned. I remembered Sam’s gentleness. The sadness I felt from leaving them dissipated into determination. 

That weekend was not just a fun vacation with friends. For me, it was a reminder of just how important the work I’m doing is, how important this election is. It’s the difference between enjoying my time with my friends and helping them prepare escape plans in case things go bad, putting together lists of essentials and making sure there’s somewhere for them to stay in a nearby blue state. It’s the difference between worrying about what games we’re going to play next week and worrying that they can’t get the healthcare they need. It’s the difference between missing them because I love them and missing them because they’re dead.

In Donald Trump’s America we are not welcome. James can’t feel safe with his boyfriend in their new home. Corey can’t get the life-saving healthcare he needs. Sam can’t have the life he wants. That’s why I fight. I want to feel safe, I want to be safe, I want to live happily, and I want that for my friends too. Fight with us. 

Jack Yordy is deputy operations director for the Watauga County Democratic Party and president of the AppState College Democrats.

Gimme Sugar

 

A month or so ago I was sunk. A disabling mood of impending doom had stalked me all year. I took a 6-week camping tour of the West in April/May, giving me a valid excuse for posting little here and thinking not at all about the Democrat Party's odds, more to the point, odds on a successful return to absolute power of an unmoored parade float making it back to the White House. My growing apprehension that Joe Biden had indeed become too old to win -- by July, it was a disabling condition, not just for shut-in, on-line political hobbyists but for Democratic operatives on the ground, the mainly young ones organizing others for door-knocking, voter registration, and phone-banking. By July, everybody was down. Political organizing seemed more like a death-march. Few of the experienced expected a miracle.

Then don't you know a freaking miracle took place. July 21st, precisely 7 weeks ago, Joe stepped aside on a Sunday. I watch little TV but had NPR playing. The news had not yet reached national radio when I got the call from a friend saying "Biden is dropping out right now." And my personal miracle at that moment matched the same miracles felt by many others -- the 2,000-lb. elephant got off my chest. 

Then came in rapid succession Biden's endorsement of Kamala, the naming of Tim Walz, the successful Nat'l Convention -- a political high ever since. Those massive rallies. The flood of new volunteers. The cash money raised to fight like hell and not go back. 

"Sugar high!" That's how true cynics dismiss this moment, scoff at any sine-wave of enthusiasm that starts peaking. "It won't last." Michelle Goldberg did a test herownself at the Harris-Walz rally in Atlanta, and came away convinced that this Blue fever has staying power. So, when mythical people wag their index finger at me and warn "Sugar high!"my answer is "Yeah, you bet! And give me more of it." What a stupid thing to worry about.

Mark Robinson, Singing the Blues

 

Indebted to S.V. Date for exposing this fundraising email sent from the Mark Robinson for Governor campaign.

Size Ain't Everything, Except To Donald Trump

 

The crowd last night in Chicago at the Democratic National Convention:

The crowd last night, same time as above, in Milwaukee, for a Harris/Walz rally. Kamala addressed both crowds, and a huge TV audience, simultaneously:

President Obama alluded to Trump's obsession and the actual reality of the matter:

 

A Little Cloud About the Size of a Man's Hand

 

Finally the seventh time, his servant told him, “I saw a little cloud about the size of a man's hand rising from the sea.” Then Elijah shouted, “Hurry to Ahab and tell him, 'Climb into your chariot and go back home. If you don't hurry, the rain will stop you!' "

--I Kings 18:44-46 

A week or so ago, we published Jack Yordy's report, "Election Excitment," because I take seriously any on-the-ground, in-the-trenches reports on "Democratic performance" upcoming, i.e., enthusiasm for voting and getting other people to vote. "Enthusiasm" can be gauged by registration drives, door-knocking, phone-calling, lit drops, and other voter out-reach -- all of which takes numerous volunteers willing to spend their time on a cause.

I'd like to get more such reports, especially from Democratic parties in Franklin, Nash, Vance, New Hanover, Buncombe, and Cabarrus counties, where the great Chance of 2024 seems to lie, the Democratic goal of breaking the veto-proof Republican majority in both NC House and Senate. I've done some looking at specific county DemsParty websites and their social media presence, and done the inevitable but odorous comparison to the WataugaDems website/media.

Some counties have far more to look at than others -- more info, more evidence of activity, more links for volunteers. Not so surprising that some county parties offer no detailed calendar, or only anemic "events" pages. Watauga's, for example is skimpy and clearly not up to date. Doesn't look like much going on, but here's what you have to realize if you're judging voter enthusiasm by a county party's outward appearance: Some counties, like most certainly Watauga, do not share their ground-game activities outside the bubble of the volunteer base.

Another reason for skimpy info/evidence of life: Most Dem web masters and social media admins are volunteers, whose other lives often limit their daily postings for the Party, or they don't think strategically about PR.

Any county party, especially in this Year of Our Lord 2024, should always have more going on than meets the eye, mainly because of what Party Chair Anderson Clayton (the great) identified as her goal, which ought to be our side's motto: "I don’t want anybody to see me coming." In glaring contrast, we see very clearly the Trump mechanism coming for us, like a D-10 dozer. But we have ways to take the tracks off that  contraption. And we benefit from seeming a mere blur of rainy weather on the distant horizon.