A TRUMP IMAGE THAT SPEAKS VOLUMES: COMPARISONS TO “PROFESSIONAL” WRESTLING

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

Fake.

Make-believe.

Contrived.

Those words describe at least two things:  Donald Trump and the World Wrestling Federation.

A writer in the Washington Post captured this telling image in a column that ran this weekend under this headline:  “What the fall of World Wrestling Federation’s Vince McMahon reveals about post-Trump politics.”

He was comparing the leader of “professional” wrestling – the word is in quotes for a reason; it’s all fake – Vince McMahon to the last fake president in America, Donald Trump.  Of course, Trump now wants to invoke his fake self again.

The writer was Abraham Riesman, author of the forthcoming “Ringmaster:  Vince McMahon and the Unmaking of America.”

His lead:

“…McMahon made his billions by sledgehammering down the wall between fantasy and reality, leaving everyone else to wander in the dust.  ‘Professional’ wrestling has never been a legitimate sporting competition; the outcomes of wrestlers’ bouts are pre-planned to inflame the audience’s passions.

“But that fact used to be concealed by an informal code known as ‘kayfabe,’ intended to uphold the illusion that pro wrestling was as real as baseball or tennis.  Kayfabe had to be maintained both inside and outside the ring.  That meant never breaking character in public.  Wrestlers who performed as ‘babyfaces,’ or good guys, could be fired on the spot if they were caught sinning.  ‘Heels,’ or bad guys, couldn’t be seen doing random acts of kindness.”

Now for the comparison to Trump.

All he did when he first held the office as president (note that I did not say he “served” as president for that would connote something he did not do, which was to “serve”) was to create a play on a world stage.  What he did wasn’t real; it was contrived.

If his opponents raised question about his actions, he took the criticism as a cue to do more – and more.

What he is doing and saying today is designed to aggrandize his own image of himself, as the only one who matters.  It’s called arrogance or narcissism.

Trump grew up on the wrestling programs run by McMahon’s father, and the former president remains an avid fan of the art form — and of the McMahons themselves.

Again, from the Post writer:

“Trump’s world wrestling fantasy journey wasn’t just an education in how to be a wrestling heel.  He was learning how to hold an audience’s attention and how to let his enemies’ accusations make him more powerful, skills that would allow him to win the 2016 election.

“Trump’s ascent to the Oval Office brought McMahon’s revolutionary anti-ethics to the highest echelons of power.  Now, it has become common to describe politics as ‘kayfabe,’ whether the illusion is playing out in staged debates between dueling paid commentators on cable news, or in the careers of a generation of conspiracy-theory-spouting Republican politicians.”

I say the McMahon/Trump comparison is apt because they live and prosper in a make-believe-world they create for themselves and, by extension, for others who bow at their thrones.

Just what this country needs?   Another term for Trump who believes that “professional” wrestling provides guidance on how, as Americans, we should live and behave, as well as on how he should lead the government. 

I did learn a new word in this Washington Post column:  “Kayfabe.”

A noun, it refers to the portrayal of staged events within an industry as “real” or “true,” specifically the portrayal of competition, rivalries, and relationships between participants as being genuine and not staged.  Portrayed as true when they are anything but true.

So I reject “kayfabe” in politics – and in “professional” wrestling.  Trump wants to recreate his artificial reality.  I say NO.

CRUISE TO ALASKA – JULY 21-28: HIGHLIGHTS

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

These are “bits and pieces” perceptions of a trip to Alaska on a Windstar cruise ship, the Sea Breeze. 

Overall, a great trip, with only one bad day – almost seasick – among the seven days on board.  There was another endurance test – the last day “at sea” heading to Vancouver, B.C.  [Think about the phrase – “at sea” – for a second or two.  Who thought of that instead of just saying “we are on the ocean” or something similar?  Oh well, with so much time on my hands as we were “at sea” heading to Vancouver, B.C., I had time to ponder such imponderables.]

This was my first trip to Alaska, a land of incredible wonder, at least from a geological perspective, if not from other points of view.

Glad Alaska is part of the United States, not Canada or Russia, though it was none other than such a “great observer” as Sarah Palin who once said, “You can see Russia from Alaska.”  Well, almost. 

On this trip:

• No bears.

• No moose.

• No porpoises along the way, but a late sighting of two, cavorting for those of us on the ship.

• But, lots of otter, fish, birds, harbor seals, stellar sea lions – and huge lessons on the flora and fauna of Alaska.

What was the best part of the trip?  Easy.  My personal tour guide.  Wife Nancy, of course.  She is masterful at planning such trips, so I just say, “Go ahead, please tell me where to be and what to do.”

Landed first at Juneau, the Capitol of Alaska.  It is land-locked – the only way to reach it is via boat or airplane.  There have been various attempts to move the Capitol, but history has prevailed to keep Juneau the Capitol.

Also on the first day, learned that baggage on and off cruise chips is the responsibility of the Longshore Union.  And, no surprise here – by appearances, union members tend to work slowly.  Our bags, for example, were loaded first onto a barge, then pushed around so the bags could be loaded on the ship from the water side.  Often, union members carried one bag at a time, not two.  I suspect the Union has a statewide contract to deal with baggage from all ships.

The guide on the second day of the trip was a resident of Haines, a small town, with a population of about 2,500, including Americans and the Tlingit people, the original residents of what became a state in 1959.  A 27-year resident of the town, out guide knew everything and made our three hours with her worth every minute.

She also said the town had 20 feet of snow last year, so much so that the only option was to push snow into the ocean.

Plus, in Haines, it rains more than 300 days a year.  Makes Salem sound sunny.

Learned that all provisions for the small town are barged in twice a month from Seattle.  ALL provisions.  And, gas costs more than $7 a gallon!

In the afternoon, took a walk around the town and visited a Raptor Rehabilitation Facility. There we saw eagles, hawks and owls who had been injured and, most likely, will never make it out to the wild again.  But they are safe.

No surprise here – I talked to all of them and they liked me!

In the finale of the Day 2, we heard a talk by Captain Chris Dodds (a resident of Manchester, England), who provided substantial details of his experience, including the fact that he was on a big ship for a different brand near Africa when the pandemic started.  He and his staff disembarked all the passengers, then set sail for the United Kingdom, many days away.  About 600 staff on board, many of whom, the captain said, learned to steer the ship, with his guidance, during the several-month journey back home.

No new food on board; everyone ate frozen food.

He said it took $1 million of fuel to get home and, when the ship stopped to refuel along the way, no one was allowed ashore.

The captain also had a good summary of staff on board for our cruise.  There were about 190 crew members who hailed from 31 countries, but only a couple from the U.S. – and they were contractors for the company that handles expeditions for those on board. 

The image?  He said the 190 staff get along very well despite the various cultures and perspectives.  So, he asked, what about assigning Members of Congress in the United States or Members of the Parliament in England to go on a cruise for several months and then expect them to get along? 

Good idea!

On Day 3, the major activity was a Zodiac tour which took us near a mammoth glacier.  It stretches 200 feet high off the water floor, but also goes 200 feet below the water line.  Some of the water in the glacier, which stretches 20 miles back up the mountain, has been there for hundreds of years.

While within a couple hundred yards of the glacier, we saw first-hand what’s called “calving.”  That’s when huge chucks of ice fall off into the water.  It sounds like a jet taking off.  And, then the meeting of ice and water causes waves…not huge ones, just swells.  It’s been happening for thousands of years!

On the way to the glacier, we saw a lot of harbor seals, which mostly weigh each about 150 pounds.  The only ones we saw were female.  They lie on top of small mounds of ice to give birth.  Then the pups nurse for a few hours until they are able swim a little.  An hour after birth, they can swim enough to remain buoyant, but they tend to stick close to their moms for much longer.  At some point, both moms and pups head to the sea where food is more plentiful.

All the males, their task done, have already returned to the open ocean.

Again on a Zodiac on Day 5, we rode with a very qualified and orally- skilled naturalist guide.  It appeared that he knew everything about the flora and fauna, not to mention animals.  But, then again, if he was wrong about something, how was I to know?

At one point, he told us that terns – a type of bird – live on the sea, but make their way between 50-100 miles inland to find their previous nests or at least something close to those nests.  Sounds like salmon returning to spawn.

The nests, by the way, are usually made in and around moss, which is pliable and allows the parents to make what seem like cups for the chicks.

There, the female terns lay their eggs.  Then, as the chicks hatch, the parents bring them food a couple times a day.  After about three months, it is time to head back to sea, so the terns empty their nests and the chicks have one chance to fly.  They drop – and then they fly, at least I hope they do.  If they don’t, well, you know the rest of the story.

As they fly for the first time, the chicks follow their parents to the ocean and then, knowing the way, both there and back, the cycle starts over again.  Part of life.

Near the end of our Zodiac trip, we saw two harbor seals poking their noses up through the top of the water, looking, I suspect, at us.  We didn’t venture near them.  We learned that, given the unclear character of the water – a lot of plankton is in it, which makes it healthy – seals cannot see under water.  So, to find food, they use their whiskers as “finders.”  Incredible!

Plus, today, the sun was out and it was about 70 degrees!  No kidding…here in Alaska.

You would have had to explain to Alaskans what that bright spot was in the sky.  Yes, sun!  Plus, blue sky, which made some of our cruise sojourners begin sun-bathing on deck.  Not me.  I preferred more wine.

The next day, we docked in Ketchikan.  On a board walk over water, we saw a lot of salmon, some of whom were being challenged by harbor seals.  It didn’t appear that the seals, though very quick in the water, were able to turn as sharp corners as salmon do – so it appeared the salmon escaped.

As we continued to make progress toward Vancouver, B.C., the water became calmer and the clouds parted, so, as we arrived at the Port, it was clear blue sky and about 85 degrees.

A lovely entrance to the Port, which included work by a pilot who got on the ship far from the Port property and guided it to its berth.  I thought a lot about the Columbia River Pilots whom I represented for almost 25 years.  A very different kind of work on a river, but still substantial credentials to get on a big ship and keep it heading in the right direction.

So, now back on land, would I go on this trip again?  About 50-50.  As good as it was most of the time, once is probably enough.

As I say that, it is not a negative view.  Just reality for me.  A lot of positive memories for me and my tour guide.  But good to be back home.

DID THE WEBB SPACE TELESCOPE SHOW US THE FACE OF GOD?

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

An editorial writer for the Arizona Republican wrote a thought-provoking piece the other day that made this statement:

“Peering into deep outer space, images from some 13 billion years ago, stirs not only our wonderment, but also takes us on a journey of spirituality.”

The writer, Phil Boas, was talking about the Webb Telescope, which has transmitted incredible images back to earth from far farther than the Hubble Telescope before it.

Boas asked this probing question in the headline – “Did the Webb Telescope show us the face of God?”

He went on:

“How infinitesimally small are we? 

“We are so small our brains lack the processing power to answer the question.

“So small that on Monday morning we attended to the mundane, the things our primitive minds could manage:  Eggs for breakfast, food and water for the dog and then, at the very outer edges of our comprehension, $5.50 for a gallon of gas.

“Then came news of something we can never fully comprehend, an image so astonishing it provokes the biggest questions:

“Who are we?”

“Where are we?”

“Are we alone?”

“Is there a God?”

Beyond those questions, here are just a few of the incredible facts Boas included in his column:

• “…what a patch of sky!  It includes a massive cluster of galaxies about four billion light-years away that astronomers use as a kind of cosmic telescope.  The cluster’s enormous gravitation field acts as a lens, warping and magnifying the light from galaxies behind it that would otherwise be too faint and faraway to see.”
• Through the Webb Telescope, mankind is seeing extremely distant galaxies “that stretch back to the beginning of time.  It’s a galaxy-finding machine.”
• A lonely speck in the cosmic dark:  This is the oldest documented light in the history of the universe from 13 billion years — let me say that again — 13 billion years ago.
• A billion is a number so large it is essentially an abstraction to the human mind.  Light that has traveled 13 billion light-years requires context so we can begin to understand it – see the next bullet.  
• Light moves at a speed of 670.6 million miles per hour.  A beam of light can travel approximately 6 trillion miles in a single earth year, according to Space.com.  At that speed, you could travel around the Earth 7.5 times in a single second.
• The numbers are staggering.  Our own galaxy, the Milky Way, is about 100,000 light-years across and contains some 100-400 billion stars, according to NASA.  Its size is too big to comprehend, but, within the context of the larger universe, it is smaller than a grain of sand.
• One of our neighboring galaxies is Andromeda. It is 220,000 light-years wide.  More than twice the size of our own.
• How many galaxies do you think there are?  NASA estimates 2 trillion. And if you can wrap your brain around that, ask yourself this question:  How many planets are there in all those galaxies?
• Too many planets to comprehend:  Roughly 700 quintillion — that’s 7 followed by 20 zeroes — 700,000,000,000,000,000,000.

My mind is boggled by these statistics, not to mention the photos produced by the telescope.  In the face of these numbers and photos, my eyes glaze over, not just my mind.

Then, to regain my composure, I return to my basic premise, a choice I presume to make:   It is that God created all of what we see and cannot see –-  and I admire his handiwork, at least what I can understand of it.

THE COLLEGE FOOTBALL LUNACY ISN’T PERMANENT. IT’S GOING TO GET WORSE

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

I draw this blog headline from a column written by one of the best sports writers going today, Rick Reilly.

In a column for the Washington Post, he produced great words to decry the state of college football today.  He did so in the aftermath of the stunning decision by the University of Southern California (USC) and the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA) to turns their backs on the West and defect from the Pac 12 Conference and, of all things, to join the Big 10.

It was only the latest move that threatens many of the traditions and relationships in college football.

And, the move, like a lot of other things in today’s society, was driven by this phrase — It’s all about the money!

So, here, in words better than I could write, I reprint Reilly’s column:

**********

And now, class, it’s time to catch you up on college football, the sport that brought you the TaxSlayer Gator Bowl.  Please open your textbooks to “madness.”

College football is slaying its history.  It’s selling all its tradition and fans and rivalries down the river on an out-of-control steamboat with a drunk donkey at the wheel.  The lunacy really kicked in on June 30 when USC and UCLA bolted the Pac-12 conference for the Big Ten (which now will have 16 teams, if that makes any sense).

That’s right.  Starting in 2024, the Big Ten conference, longtime symbol of the hearty American Midwest, corn ice cream and 400-pound kickers, will now be playing teams full of surfers, lowriders and guys in hair buns.

Big Ten teams are now conveniently located near their banks, not each other.  Take USC, which is near Hollywood, and their new conference foe Rutgers, which is somewhere near “The Sopranos.”  This is going to be such an exciting new rivalry.  One team has six Heisman Trophy winners, can claim 11 national championships and over the years has spent 91 weeks as the No. 1 team in the country.  The other is Rutgers.

Then you have the University of Maryland — a Midwest-by-the-Chesapeake Big Ten team since 2014 — soon to be taking on UCLA, which is a six-hour flight away.  The winner of the game will take possession of the coveted Dead Polar Bear trophy.  Imagine that:  The flyover states they’ll be flying over are where their conference resides.  College football really needs to get Google Maps.

Why did UCLA abandon the traditions of nearly 100 years in the Pac-12, the conference that has more national championships in more sports than any other?  Because its athletic program was $103 million in debt, according to USA Today, and stands to make about $60 million more per year in TV money with the Big Ten than it was with the Pac-12.  What good are traditions if the repo man just took your blocking sleds?

Not only did the Pac-Whatever lose its two biggest schools, there’s a rumor the conference could lose four more (Colorado, Utah, Arizona and Arizona State) to the Big 12, which last summer found out it was losing its two biggest teams — Oklahoma and Texas — to the Southeastern Conference, which needs two more good teams the way the Kardashians need more selfies.

Without the Sooners and the Longhorns, the Big 12 is left with a lot of teams such as Texas Tech and Iowa State, which don’t fluff up anybody’s pom-poms.  Two-four-six-eight! Why’d we leave the tailgate?

As for talk of a possible merger between the Big 12 and Pac-Whatever … fine.  You can make a tofu and wheatgrass smoothie. There’s still no meat in it.

And if you think those once-respectable conferences now suck like the Dyson factory, imagine how the lesser conferences look.  Their membership changes hourly, as do their names.  Tell you what, I’ll list a few and you try to tell me which one’s fake:  The Big West. Mid-Central. AAC. Sun Country.

Just kidding.  They’re all fake.  Nobody knows anymore.  Nobody cares.

All anybody really cares about is college football’s Godzilla, the SEC, which has won 12 of the last 16 national championships — six of them by Alabama alone.  One SEC team or another has been in the final game for 15 of the past 16 years.  Put it this way:  The SEC just rejected the New York Jets for membership.

Next earthquake up is Notre Dame, which is somehow still an independent, but not for long.  It will almost certainly soon jump to the Big Ten or the SEC — the Big Ten can pay Notre Dame $65 million more per year than it was getting out of its creaky old NBC deal.  Do you know how many golden domes that would buff?

Meanwhile, if you’ve seen the NCAA anywhere, will you have them call the office?  They’re supposed to be in charge of all this insanity but can’t seem to stop it.  Reminds me of the time we came home to find our kids running crazy inside the house and the babysitter locked out, sitting on the porch — crying.

But don’t fret, college football fans.  None of this is permanent: It’s going to get worse, until what we’re left with is two super-conferences — the Big Ten and the SEC — with maybe 40 teams total.  The super-conferences, controlling all the watchable college football in the country, will then put the NCAA out of its misery, take over the game and hold their own national championship.

And the egghead teams that aren’t at all watchable, such as Vanderbilt in the SEC and Northwestern in the Big Ten?  They’ll get kicked down to one of the JV conferences and eventually become accountants for TaxSlayer.

**********

And this footnote:  As Reilly wrote his column, the future of college football in Oregon and Washington was up for grabs.  The University of Oregon and the University of Washington could be leaving the Pac-12, or whatever it is now becoming, because they draw substantial fan and donor bases.

But, going without almost any mention in what has been written around the country – Oregon State University and Washington State University.  Who knows where or how they will end up when it comes to football or, for that matter, other sports?

I am a college football fan, though not to the degree of many of my friends.  But, in all of these crass moves, I am tempted to echo a two-word phrase from columnist Reilly:  Who cares!

JAMES WEBB SPACE TELESCOPE IMAGES BOGGLE THE MIND

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

It is almost too much to comprehend!

What?

Images produced by the $10 billion James Webb Space Telescope.

Just think about this fact as reported by the Wall Street Journal:

“The telescope appears to be even more powerful than the people who dreamed it up had hoped.  It is able to see further into the depths of space and time than the acclaimed Hubble, collecting the exquisitely faint infrared light emitted by the first stars and galaxies more than 13 billion years ago.

“’It sees things that I never dreamed were out there,’ said senior project scientist John Mather, a Nobel laureate who started working on the telescope in 1995.”

Light visible that started its route to us 13 billion years ago!

Earlier this week, the National Aviation and Space Administration released the first set of full-color images and data obtained by the revolutionary Webb telescope.  It was quite a cosmic show, according to the Journal: “Colliding galaxies, a dying star shedding itself layer by layer, a glorious stellar nursery, and the intriguing signs of water vapor and clouds on a giant planet whirling around a faraway star.”

With all this, my thoughts automatically go to a key question:  How was all this created?

No doubt eminent scientists could come up with various explanations.  But the explanation I CHOOSE – and let me add that I am not an eminent scientist — God created all this!

Plus, it is possible for us as human beings to have a relationship with Him if we choose to do so.

So, ponder infinity as we continue to see brilliant images from space billions of years ago – yes billions – and think of God’s handiwork.

MORE ON JOE BIDEN AND CHANCES FOR DEMOCRATS IN 2024 ELECTION

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

Yesterday, I wrote that President Joe Biden may not have a decent chance to run again in advance of the 2024 election, though he maintains that he will do so.

Today, I add to the issue by reprinting a column by Niall Stanage that appeared in my on-line edition of hill.com.

Stanage, a solid reporter and analyst, wrote under this headline:  The Memo:  Democrats cast around for 2024 alternatives to Biden

Here are excerpts from his column:

Democratic gloom is deepening as the party looks toward November’s mid-terms and beyond. 

The bleak outlook is engendered in part by a grim political environment marked by historically high inflation, elevated gas prices, and pandemic fatigue. 

But the Democrat depression is sharpened by concerns over whether President Biden is really the man for the moment, given his advancing age — he turns 80 in November — and his preference for consensus-building over the frontal political combat many in his party would prefer.

Yet, for all that, Biden has one sizable factor weighing in his favor.  There’s no clear-cut rival who could steal the 2024 mantle away from him.

The appetite for change is obvious.  A New York Times/Siena College poll released this week found just 26 per cent of Democrats wanted Biden to carry the party’s banner again in 2024.  Sixty-four per cent would prefer someone else to be the party’s nominee. 

There’s just no agreement on who that someone might be. 

Many Democrats are reluctant to speak ill of an incumbent president on the record.  But there is no mistaking the black mood.

“Biden should not be and cannot be the nominee in 2024,” said one Democrat strategist who requested anonymity to speak candidly.  “It’s as obvious as day to anyone who is being objective and honest that the president is too old to be president.  It’s that simple.”

Yet, the same strategist lamented that “there is no bench. That’s the catastrophic thing.”

It’s not as if there is a shortage of Democrats who might see themselves in the top job — even if some of them need Biden to step aside first.

The clearest example is Vice President Kamala Harris.  The first woman and the first Black person to serve in her role, she would be the obvious option if Biden opted against running for a second term.

But Harris is beset by her own problems, including approval ratings that are not appreciably better than her boss’s, an indifferent performance in office, and memories of an underwhelming 2020 presidential campaign.

Other high-profile options include a raft of figures who also contested the 2020 nomination, such as Senators Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and Amy Klobuchar, as well as Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg.

Sanders’ 2020 campaign manager put out a memo in April underlining that the Vermonter had not ruled out another run for presidency, though he was equally clear that he would not subject Biden to a primary.

But Sanders is older than Biden, would be running for the presidency for a third time, and faces the perennial questions about the electability of a self-proclaimed democrat socialist.

Warren, Klobuchar and Buttigieg all have their fervent supporters, but they all also have vulnerabilities.  The arguments against each can be boiled down as too far left, too uninspiring, and too inexperienced, respectively.

Some Democrats are casting an eye toward governors and other figures who have not yet become national figures.

For now, Biden repeats that he intends to run again. A proud man, he bristles at suggestions that his party might cast him aside.

**********

And, this footnote.  Essayist Lance Morrow wrote this in today’s Wall Street Journal.

“Mr. President, if you’re sick of people talking about how old you are, think how I feel.  You’re only 79. I’m 82 — three years down the trail ahead of you.  You’re still a kid, though it is true that, crossing the White House lawn, you walk like the Tin Woodman in need of a squirt of lubrication. Falling off the bike wasn’t a good look either.  I wish you’d remember that after 75 the best hope is enigmatic dignity — elder statesman, grandfather knows best, Konrad Adenauer, that sort of thing.  Think gravitas. By the way, you need a new tailor.  The suits are too tight.  You’re not 24.”

I share Morrow’s perspectives on getting old, for I am old, too.  For Biden’s own health – and perhaps his reputation, as well — I hope he finds a way to step aside graciously.  Then, I also hope Democrats can identify someone who can assure that Trump will not be in the nation’s highest office again.

JOE BIDEN HAS HIS WORK CUT OUT FOR HIM

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

I hate to write this blog, even here in Oregon, 3,000 miles or so west of Joe Biden’s office in the White House.  But, at the same time, I know he has his work cut out for him if he decides to run again in 2024.

Of course, that far off is an eternity in politics.  And the mid-term elections occur first.  But, if the presidential election were held today, it is not clear that Biden would win – or that he would even be the Democrat his party chose to try to keep the White House.

If you accept recent polling, things are bad for Biden more than two years ahead of the election.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I voted for Biden last time around…for two reasons.  First, I thought, given his vast experience, he could rise to the challenge of the presidency.  Second, he represented the best chance to kick Donald Trump out of the Oval Office.  He succeeded on the second challenge; the first is pending.

But, according to polling organization FiveThirtyEight, only President Harry Truman had a lower net approval rating at this point in his presidency than does Biden.

Biden’s net approval sits at minus-16 (a figure obtained by subtracting those who disapprove from those who approve).  The previous record-holder for lowest net approval 541 days into the presidency was a dupe named Trump.  His net approval at this point was minus-11.

Meanwhile, Trump, the worst president in U.S. history, appears to be angling for another term, though he faces the prospect of a variety of legal challenges that could be lodged against him.  He may even announce his intention to run before the mid-terms.

Karl Rove, a long-time Republican political operative who now writes columns for the Wall Street Journal, contends Biden and company are making six missteps toward the 2022 mid-term elections, not to mention the next presidential election in 2024.

It would be possible to view Rove’s perceptions with skepticism because of his clear Republican credentials, but his points still resonate, at least to a degree.

He writes:  “President Biden’s actions this year are a textbook example of how to turn policy challenges into a political disaster.  Like the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief, the six steps of the Biden mid-term strategy start with denial.  The president deals with his mistakes and the dismal economic environment by saying things are better than they really are.”

Here is Rove’s rendition of the six missteps:

1. The chaotic withdrawal from Kabul last August
2. Blaming someone else for the economy’s ills.
3. Changing the subject, especially from the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe V. Wade.
4. Blaming Donald Trump (though I add my perspective that Trump deserves whatever blame he receives).
5. Appearing to be doing something, anything.
6. Abandoning ship…as Biden flounders, candidates in tough races will realize that they risk being sucked down as he sinks and begin to distance themselves from the president.

Speaking of abandoning ship, Wall Street Journal columnist Daniel Henninger follows the image by adding:  “The New York Times reported that its poll with Siena College finds 64 per cent of Democrats, not even waiting for the mid-term election results, want their candidate in 2024 to be someone other than the president.  That famous Democrat youth vote? Under 30, they’re down on Biden at a 94 per cent rate.”

For my part, I say it’s too early for Democrats to abandon the Biden ship.

One of the main challenges in assessing Biden, beyond the perceptions of Rove listed above, is that it could be contended the president will be too old to run again two years from now.

On one hand, that could reflect a bias against aging.  But, on the other hand, it strikes me as an accurate assessment.  Age matters. 

Ability to handle a crushing presidential workload?  It matters.  Ability to avoid confusion?  It matters.  Ability to speak clearly?  It matters.

On these counts, Biden faces real challenges, as would anyone pushing 80 years and beyond.

I wish him well, but I also think Democrats should be giving clear thought, probably behind the scenes if that is possible in a social media age, to who could replace him in the next election.  And a major factor in that calculation is who could have the best chance to assure Trump doesn’t land in the presidency again.

WONDERFUL MEMORIES OF GOLF AT THE OLD COURSE IN SCOTLAND

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

On the occasion of the playing of The Open this week at the Old Course in Scotland, my thoughts have gone to wonderful times for me and my family at the “home of golf.”

“The Open,” as they are careful to say in Europe, will be held for a 30th time at the Old Course in St. Andrews, Scotland.

With my wife, Nancy – her parents emigrated from Scotland to the U.S. – I have had the privilege of being in Scotland on five occasions, with Nancy as my tour guide, given her familiarity with the country of her parents’ birth.

Our trips have included several visits to the Old Course.  We usually arrived in St. Andrews on a Sunday to find the course closed to golf on that day every week.  For all intents and purposes, it was a park, with residents and visitors strolling the fairways, taking photos on the Swilcan Bridge (we did), and finding easy access a few yards away to the North Sea, with a sandy beach.

The last time we were in St. Andrews we were with our daughter, Lissy, and her family.  We immediately entered our names into what’s called “the ballot,” essentially a lottery to determine who can get tee times on the Old Course. 

Then, the foreboding reality came. 

I say “foreboding” because the 1^st tee at the Old Course is a major challenge for anyone, if only you have seen the hallowed space on television.

With winning the ballot, we added our names to the list of famous golfers, not to mention regular amateurs, who have teed off on that iconic hole. 

On the day of our tee time, we arrived a bit early, putted on the practice green near the 1^st tee, then stood on the tee as the clock clicked down to our time, read destiny. 

We stood where others have stood over the years – only a few yards away from the clubhouse for the Royal & Ancient Golf Club, the home of the ruling body of golf in Europe, with the 1^st fairway looking wide and inviting, hard by 18^th coming the other way.

All the faces glued to the window of the Royal & Ancient were there no doubt to watch us tee off!

Rather than provide my own description, let me quote from one of my favorite books – Two Years in St. Andrews — by one of my favorite golf authors, George Peper, now the editor of Links Magazine and, before that, a two-year resident in a flat on the 18^th hole at St. Andrews. 

Here is what he wrote:

         “No matter who you are, to stand for the first time on the 1^st tee of the Old Course is to experience the greatest natural laxative in golf.  So intimidating is the opening that Dwight Eisenhower, a five-star general who once held the fate of the free world in his hands, couldn’t handle the pressure.  He slinked to the second hole.

         “There you are, barely a dozen steps from the front porch of the Royal & Ancient Golf Club, the full weight of its four-storied grayness upon you.  Thirty-two clubhouse windows face that tee, and you can feel eyes piercing from everyone one of them, especially from the Big Room – front and center on the ground floor – where the blue-blazered members sip their gin and tonics and peer imperiously through graduated bi-focals.

         “You feel their eyes, lasered into your temples.  You feel the eyes of every golfer in your group, every golfer waiting to play, every lurking caddy, raking greenkeeper, and passing motorist, every shopkeeper, dog walker, street cleaner, beachcomber, and windsurfer, every gull, snipe, and pigeon, every fisherman on every trawler in the North Sea. 

Most of all you feel the eyes of Old Tom Morris and Harry Vardon, of Henry Cotton and Bobby Jones – of every great player, live or dead, who has ever walked these fabled links.  And you don’t want to disappoint them.”

The good news?  Even with all the internal and external pressure, my daughter piped her drive straight down the middle on the 1^st fairway.  I wasn’t the only one clapping!

I also managed to hit a decent drive, but it’s hard to do while you are clapping.

I have a host of other memories of golf at the Old Course, so will treasure the chance to watch golf again next week on that famous track.  So, live on Old Course!

WONDERFUL MEMORIES OF GOLF AT THE OLD COURSE IN SCOTLAND

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

On the occasion of the playing of The Open this week at the Old Course in Scotland, my thoughts have gone to wonderful times for me and my family at the “home of golf.”

“The Open,” as they are careful to say in Europe, will be held for a 30th time at the Old Course in St. Andrews, Scotland.

With my wife, Nancy – her parents emigrated from Scotland to the U.S. – I have had the privilege of being in Scotland on five occasions, with Nancy as my tour guide, given her familiarity with the country of her parents’ birth.

Our trips have included several visits to the Old Course where we usually arrived in St. Andrews on a Sunday to find the course closed to golf on that day every week.  For all intents and purposes, it was a park, with residents and visitors strolling the fairways, taking photos on the Swilcan Bridge, and finding easy access a few yards away to the North Sea, with a sandy beach.

The last time at St. Andrews we were there with our daughter, Lissy, and her family.  We immediately entered our names into what’s called “the ballot,” essentially a lottery to determine who can get tee times on the Old Course. 

Then, the foreboding reality came. 

I say “foreboding” because the 1^st tee at the Old Course is a major challenge.

Through the ballot, we secured a time and added our names to the list of famous golfers, not to mention regular amateurs, who have teed off on that iconic hole. 

On the day of our tee time, we arrived a bit early, putted on the practice green near the 1^st tee, then stood on the tee as the clock clicked down to our destiny. 

We stood where others have stood over the years – only a few yards away from the clubhouse for the Royal & Ancient Golf Club, the home of the ruling body of golf in Europe, with the 1^st fairway looking wide and inviting, hard by 18^th coming the other way.

All the faces glued to the window of the Royal & Ancient were there no doubt to watch us tee off!

Rather than provide my own description, let me quote from one of my favorite books – Two Years in St. Andrews — by one of my favorite golf authors, George Peper, now the editor of Links Magazine and, before that, a two-year resident in a flat on the 18^th hole at St. Andrews.  Here is what he wrote:

         “No matter who you are, to stand for the first time on the 1^st tee of the Old Course is to experience the greatest natural laxative in golf.  So intimidating is the opening that Dwight Eisenhower, a five-star general who once held the fate of the free world in his hands, couldn’t handle the pressure.  He slinked to the second hole.

         “There you are, barely a dozen steps from the front porch of the Royal & Ancient Golf Club, the full weight of its four-storied grayness upon you.  Thirty-two clubhouse windows face that tee, and you can feel eyes piercing from everyone one of them, especially from the Big Room – front and center on the ground floor – where the blue-blazered members sip their gin and tonics and peer imperiously through graduated bi-focals.

         “You feel their eyes, lasered into your temples.  You feel the eyes of every golfer in your group, every golfer waiting to play, every lurking caddy, raking greenkeeper, and passing motorist, every shopkeeper, dog walker, street cleaner, beachcomber, and windsurfer, every gull, snipe, and pigeon, every fisherman on every trawler in the North Sea. 

Most of all you feel the eyes of Old Tom Morris and Harry Vardon, of Henry Cotton and Bobby Jones – of every great player, live or dead, who has ever walked these fabled links.  And you don’t want to disappoint them.”

The good news?  Even with all the internal and external pressure, my daughter piped her drive straight down the middle on the 1^st fairway.  I wasn’t the only one clapping!

I have a host of other memories of golf at the Old Course, so will treasure the chance to watch golf again next week on that famous track.  So, live on Old Course.

A GREAT QUOTE

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

Late night host Stephen Colbert had a quote for the ages the other day.

His topic?  The ultimate stupidity of Rudy Giuliani as he accused a person in a grocery store of assaulting him. 

The assault?  A tap on the shoulder.

Fodder for Colbert?  Of course.

Here is what he said:

“Rudy remains undaunted.  His son, Andrew, and his load-bearing teeth say we don’t have to worry about Rudy because he’s ‘tough as nails.’  And, just like nails, he’s always hammered.”

If nothing else – and there is loads more – Giulani’s conduct (Rudy, not Andrew) calls to mind other recent acts of stupidity.  Such as when went to a “Four Seasons” – it was an old garage, not the first-class hotel – to hold a press conference touting what he uttered as “fact” — that Donald Trump had won the presidency.

He did so as black hair dye rolled down his cheeks. 

So, it is not hard to argue, with Colbert, that “Rudy was hammered.”