As the sun prepared to set last evening under a heavily clouded, not-blue sky, I walked down to the dock and sat there until the two turtles I was watching — one large, one teeny tiny — slipped sideways off the limb where they’d been perched and disappeared beneath the surface.
It was the first time all summer I’d taken the time to sit there. To do nothing. Even the bugs left me alone.
After last November, I swore I would not let the new administration take up so much space in my head, and yet here I am just 7 months in and I already feel like there’s been a coup (pun intended) between my ears. How to know enough about what’s happening without feeling suffocated by it? How to keep up with the news without feeling like I’ve been run over by Wile E. Coyote?
Earlier this week, I wrote about what I’m hearing from rural Kentucky Republicans re: upcoming elections. I’m back today to talk about the Democrats.
I do not have the same sense of alarm that many seem to be having about the Democrats or the Democratic Party, or maybe I’m just (see above) distracted by too much other political news.
Am I frustrated with the national Democratic party as a whole? Hell yes. All I could think when Ken Martin was chosen as DNC chair was that I could not be more underwhelmed by the choice. Nice guy, sure, but dull as dirty dishwater. Where is our courage, our sense of the future, our excitement? Where is our real leader, and when might he/she emerge?
Think what you will about Gavin Newsom — and having moved to Kentucky from California, I have many-a-thought about Newsom — but he is meeting the moment of today-today. He looks like a fighter; he’s keeping steady media attention on his antics; most importantly he’s shedding his slick persona and becoming funny. Many are focused on his Twitter posts and antics but I feel the biggest sense of relief that he’s willing to make fun of himself and the president to make all of us laugh.
2028 is a long, long way off, and God knows what will happen in the next week much less the next few years, but right now I’m feeling joy picturing a Gavin Newsom / Andy Beshear ticket. The bad boy and the boy next door; the bold braggart alongside the aw-shucks Kentuckian who’s ‘heck-bent’; the tall handsome gravely-voiced filibuster-of-facts alongside the governor from red-state Kentucky who wears his khakis a smidge too short and touts economic development and kindness in the same tone.
A lot of people want Andy — I’m gonna call him Andy because we all call him Andy — to run for Mitch McConnell’s senate seat, and hey I get it, I used to be one of those people. But Andy has never indicated that he wants to be a senator. If you’ve got your eye on Andy you’ve seen his many trips to other states, the Vogue spread, the New Yorker interview, the numerous national TV interviews, etc. We see where Andy is headed. So let’s put his nonexistent senate dreams to bed.
If there IS a Kentucky Democrat with a chance to do well running for McConnell’s senate seat, that person has yet to emerge, and it’s unfortunate considering the current GOP primary field. Even if Scott Jennings does not get into that primary, it is going to be one of nastiest, meanest, ugliest brawls we’ve seen, and whoever comes out of it is going to be exhausted and damaged and prime for a beatdown. A UFC fight gone bad.
If there is anything I wish Andy would do, it is to champion the right person for McConnell’s seat. I hate to say we need a tall, charming, white man who’s well-known for that ticket, but we need a tall, charming, white man who’s well-known and that person is Rocky Atkins.
We can sit here all we want and wring our hands and wish there was a deeper bench, but this is it and Democrats need to be realists and work with who (whom?) we’ve got.
I keep hearing advice from James Carville and the like about how Democrats need to get back to their roots and focus on kitchen table issues because ‘it’s the economy stupid’ and this is the main thing that has me waking up mornings with my fists punching the air. Due respect to Carville, but honey, those days are over, as over as thinking knocking on the most doors and texting voters every 15 minutes to talk about groceries and gas prices can still win elections.
Americans no longer talk to each other, they entertain each other. They do not exchange ideas, they exchange images. They do not argue with propositions; they argue with good looks, celebrities, and commercials.
– Neil Postman, “Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business”
In the latter days of his 2024 campaign, Donald Trump told stories about the size of golfer Arnold Palmer’s penis, lied about how many trans kids were playing sports, and pretended to fellate a microphone at a rally and he won. It wasn’t even close.
This says as much about the electorate as it does about the candidate. Maybe more.
Do citizens need/want cheaper groceries, access to good affordable healthcare, better public schools, good paying jobs? Absolutely they do. But it’s a new world and no one wants to sit with a politician at their kitchen table and panic over their monthly budget. Voters want a big impressive LEADER, someone who will fight the biggest bully in the schoolyard and sport a bloody nose, give them a good laugh (see Gavin Newsom) to release the stress, and have the policies in their pockets to make their lives easier. If elected.
Come 2026, 2027 and 2028, voters will also crave candidates who do not create a 24/7 daily circus. They’ll still want a circus, mind you, but just on Saturdays. Imagine how exhausted we’ll all be by then — normal Republicans included — and how much Mr. Trump will have increased the cost of living, embarrassed us on the world stage, and shit all over the rule of law.
One thing I realized last night, while I was sitting on the dock watching the sunset arrive, is that I need to read the news but I have to stop doomscrolling.
About a year ago, I deleted my Twitter/X account and eventually wrote about why for the Kentucky Lantern.
“Quitting X felt a lot like when I quit drinking. Deleting my account was surprisingly difficult. Our addictions to our phones and social media are real.”
Last night I left the dock and the turtles and trudged back up to the house to get ready for bed. Before I turned out the lights, I opened the Blue Sky app on my phone — my Twitter/X replacement — and clicked on “Delete Account.”
Bye bye, Blue Sky.
I can’t stop the news, but I can stop scrolling.
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