Remember when the Dems bypassed Jack Markell for the party endorsement?   Jack does.  He of course won’t play that card, but one could bet it’s somewhere  roaming the back alleys of his mind as he climbs on board a “Grandma Minner Express” as it rolls toward a date with the microscope.

With parties from both shores amassing to lay claim as the peoples protectors, standing at the ready to politicize – the GOP to gain admission into the hearts of the populace as the pure; the Dems to come off as looking out only for the peoples benefit (sacrificing one of their own) while washing their hands at the same time.  This is a bad time to look dirty as the Dems have one prohibitive favourite and one dark horse badly in need of good press.  This is hardly what they had in mind.

So our beloved Gov gets to step into the batters box and take a couple of swings; one to help his party; one to knock his “remember me” ball over the left field fence.  He has indeed added his muscle to hook up the Clydesdales, and steer the Big ‘Ole Red Budweiser Beer Wagon aka the Minner – Tigani Hearst, out to a three county tour.  Here it will stop for a look see by the peeps and investigators – some with Delaware tags; some with Fed Gov plates.  This ain’t something he relishes, folks, but you know how hysteria works… If you don’t hop in with the men with the torches, you look weak and sympathetic and end up getting hung yourself; like God forbid anyone has their day in court before  tried, convicted, and executed well before there’s even been a charge.  But hey, that’s what the peeps and legislators do these days.  It’s how it works.

Yes, there is lots of smoke here, Ladies and Gentlemen, and warrants a look see.  And yes, it smells.  May turn out too that Ruth Ann (and those teflonites that were close to her) – but separating quicker than we can say… Election – have some serious ‘splainin’ to do, Lucy.     So Jack has to get in the hunt.  And he has.  And here we go.

Yep… here we go.

A comment from a post last night inquired as to who would win a one-on-one match between John Carney and Jack Markell.  Carney, of course (with or without the damn mustache).  And it would be an old fashioned @$$ kickin… an easy W… so easily, Carney would have to let him score a bucket to avoid a total in yo face, but that’s beside the point.  Then what is the caller’s point, you ask?

That post summed up the insular Delaware political scene in one damn punch.

How’s that possible, you ask?

Drive to 18^th and Broom and to the rickety shrine that is  Baynard Stadium.  Carney scored a few points there; athletically (St. Mark’s and Holy Rosary) and politically – because those hometown images are burned into the eye of the public collective consciousness.  Delawareans remember, and in the world of Delaware politics, memories never fail.

We know our candidates as buds.  First name only, bro – should someone have the temerity to address “Mike” as Mr. Castle, he/she would be taken behind the Logan House and whipped for blasphemy.  It just ain’t done.  Tell me truthfully, aren’t you all just a lil put out that you have not all received one of those snappy gold embossed  dinner invitations replete with the official White House Seal?   Why?????  Because it’s F#$%&^ Joe and Joe hangs out at the f*#@%^& White House and he’s one of us… that’s f$%&*&^why …and that’s Delaware.

Yes, it is a quintessential social trait of any really small town where everyone keeps their shades drawn as to avoid  becoming the talk of the town… unless one’s running for office… lol -  Also where the town folk know every other town folk who currently knows every other town folk who lives in town or is buried in the Town Folk Cemetery.  Delaware is a Xerox copy of that dynamic, but with one glaring exception… It’s a DAMN STATE!!!!   Small enough to escape from Wilmington, where ya know everyone, to Rehoboth, where ya know everyone.  It’s kinda like a Twilight Zone, really.  But Rod Serling ain’t runnin’ for office.

That is what any politician had better stick in their mental quiver should he or she hold any ambition of procuring one of this State’s big ticket items:

You’ll need to be able to imbibe with us locals too.  Politely slammin’ some brew’s (we’d name a brand but not before we are paid to do so) at Jam Session, knockin’ back a lil Jack as the gourds fly towards Milton,  Sipping in elegance the Grey goose with the Bachelors,  Shots of Jaeger w the young tailgating voters in Newark,  Cheap beer and roho (well, not in cost) at St. Anthony’s, Ouzo with the Orthodox, Beer (and lots of it) at any fire hall in the state,  and sipping in Wright and Simon style the carved out pinapple concoctions at Andy and Terri Strine’s front row table at Point to Point… right before you go off to get smoked at the tailgate of every other Brooks brother and Ladybug on the grounds… Cause the whole state will be there… swear to God… the whole state’s f*&^$#@there.

This is our scene, our way, and our party.  You call us by our first name and we will consider placing you in office and callin’ you by your first name.

And it all fits in the end as well as Pete duPont’s tortoise shell (yes, they are real) glasses and 1977 Harris Tweed Jacket.

Now remember that play in the Holy Rosary/St. John the Beloved game Oct. 27, 1975… We can …small wonder, eh?

Yes, we said we would be commenting primarily on the two major races that would evince the whacky world of the Delaware political scene.  So what are we doing writing about a moment in the life of our Governor?  Well, aside from the fact that his name has been on the tongue of those dems hungry for a playa that could, or would, fill the Beau void, he has become a rather compelling fellow.  He is one to step up to the microphone… literally…and make a case, as evident yesterday when he ceased the opportunity to face an irascible contingent of union fellows asking politely if he might see fit to assist in procuring some work for their anxious members.  With Tom McCanns and Bostonians flying all over the front steps of Legislative Hall,  our Governor, summoning the ghosts of Town Criers past, strapped on a set, took the bull by the horn and addressed their concerns – needing a boost up to a bumper to do it, of course…lol.

While never being confused with Jimmy Stewart (or Mr. Smith), Jack did what we all would like to see our elected officials do…lead.   Whether or not his promise to bring more Jobs to the First State ever sees the light of day, on this day he did listen and he did talk.  That is a start.

Visions of Jack recreating this scene on the Senate floor does have a certain Hollywood panache.  Maybe he is flamboyant enough to make such an audition for the senate on his own behalf.

Hey, Jack… they’re holding a casting call as we speak.

So let’s take a lookie here lookie here, at some folks who could pop into our collective consciousness within the fortnight.

Kaufman – for someone so close to the scene, well liked, and a longtime legislator and Biden Lieutenant, his immediate pull out was odd.  Would’ve been a solid option as a quasi incumbent with at least a lil experience.

Coons – doesn’t have the look or the appeal (especially Downstate)… could enter anyway.  He’d lose… and it would be “taxing.”

Carney – Still stinging from the appointment Passover (wouldn’t you be?).  A step off the Can’t miss Congressional train for a higher profile death match would galvanize the base and cost him another gig.  The only one who has the balls, look, or the clout to entertain such a mission.  He’d lose, but would garner respect, bring in some serious out of state cash and give Mike something to sweat about.

Markell – The dems are looking at anyone who could at the very least look good in defeat.  Jack, like John,  provides the necessary theater to make it look like the Dems didn’t merely mail it in.  Yes, he could have a shot and has the ambition… but really, didn’t Nancy Pelosi look tougher than him when sitting side by side at Immaculate Heart?… Image, bro, image.  Good guy, though.  Needs a makeover.

There you have it, sports fans.  That’s our take.

Thanks to the little birdies and our very own Madam LeRue… she’ll read your palm for you.