Lying a mere 1K, as the crow – or rocket – flies, from the Gaza strip, the modest Israeli town (19,500… and change) of Sderot has for a decade attracted its share of the red glare that accompanies the Qassam rockets as they make their way into the precarious lives of its traumatized tenants.  The Qassam, a somewhat rudimentary, yet dangerous STS projectile, being the weapon of choice employed by Hamas and Islamic Jihad to kill and disrupt this perimeter and relatively defenseless Israeli settlement.  The constant barrage – amped up since 2007 – has inflicted a ton of damage to not only the properties, but collective psyches as well causing many to flee the incessant wail of the air-raid sirens for a more becalmed and guarded existence.  It ain’t pretty.

Due to its proximity to the Palestinian (Gaza) and its recent violent history, Sderot has drawn more than its share of American political dignitaries; all making the trek to get a first hand glimpse of this hazardous ambiance, set as it is amongst some of the worlds most beautiful scenery.  President O’Biden’s been there, as have Senator’s McCain, Kerry, and Lieberman.  Congressmen Brian Baird (D-Washington) and Keith Ellison (D- Minnesota) also spent time touring the ruins of some family homes following a ’07 attack.  These are called fact finding missions that provide for the legislators on the ground intel that help shape US/Israeli policy along with the physical and mental pictures necessary to sell said policies to the American voter.  All these “fact finding” junkets are generally made by incumbents; as it is they that have the mandate and the power to influence these international guidelines.  After all, what purpose – other than fulfillment of a personal burning desire for knowledge – does it serve (politically, that is) for one not yet in office to make the journey, hence incurring the expense, if they do not possess the hammer to make anything happen?

So it is with this question in mind that we address the Israeli/Sderot excursion recently made by our own John Carney.  Seems as though the Chosen One is acting like a congressman-elect 6 months before the general election and 5 months before his primary date with Spencer for Hire.  Odd, isn’t it?  Makes little sense to me as to the logic behind this seemingly superfluous dog and pony show.  I’m certain John harbours tremendous interest in Middle East affairs and its potential affect on general US foreign relations – we would expect that – and that of the First State he hopes to represent.  I say… HOPES to represent.  But he ain’t there yet and there’s a couple of folks out there that feel they have something to say about whether or not he will eventually be the peeps “Chosen One.”

So we wonder… who orchestrated – or had a big hand in orchestrating – this long distance press/photo op… and why?  Actually, these are rhetorical questions as one would have to have been in a cave the past year not to sense the presence of the Kings of the Dems… aka the VP and his boss The Prez.  The dems need the seat and would like nothing more than to see Carney pad his early lead going into the summer – and what better way than to paint him as a worldly leader well before he actually becomes one.  Ain’t this temptin’ fate, John?  Kinda like hoistin’ the National League Championship Trophy before the World Series?  I’m just sayin’.

And the cost?  Lemme just say that Spencer would salivate over the prospects of acquiring half of what the trip cost.

Mama Rollins must be sittin’ back plannin’ her trip to… hmmmm… how ‘bout North Korea to face down Kim Jong-il?  Or head to Ramadi to chat with the Rangers?

Gotta do something’, Michele… after all, you don’t need the party or citizens to foot the bill… and Kingston don’t look as worldly as Moscow.

Final note:  Does John Carney own any shirt other than a Blue Oxford Button Down?

The American Soldier.  A battling archetype born of the relentless spirit and fierce will for a fight that has preserved democracy and freedom ever since a fateful morning 19 April, 1775 on a Concord Bridge and a Lexington Green.  A legend of honor and bravery honed later in the trenches of the Western Front, the cliffs of Normandy, the sands of North Africa, the skies over the Coral Sea, the hills of Inchon, the bars of the Hanoi Hilton, and the insurgent insanity of Ramadi.

Whether sporting the badge of the All Americans (82^nd) , Screaming Eagles (101^st), The Big Red One (1^st Infantry), Hell on Wheels (2^nd Armored),  Seals, Rangers, Delta Force, or Green Berets… or the patches of those who fly – or flew – Mustangs, Fortresses, Voodoos, Phantoms, Tomcats, Hornets, Eagles, Warthogs, Blackhawks, Hueys, and Apaches; the legend continued.  Our fighting force was –and remains – the force… end of conversation.

But with the legend also came scuffs on the shine of that honor as our vaunted military prowess fell victim to the social issues of the times.  Minority soldiers were largely segregated (see Tuskegee Airmen)  and afforded not the respect and inclusion one would expect from a nation forged from the “All men are created equal” of Jefferson’s quill.  The women pilots (Wasps) of WW2 were relegated to fighter and bomber ferry missions while the men flew the combat sorties.  Racism and sexism remained in place even in view of the ultimate sacrifices blacks and women paid in defense of their country.  Change – as it always is – was painfully and abhorrently slow.  Votes, remember?

But in the end it was the scope of a man’s/woman’s  talent, mettle, and courage that would lay claim as to whether they were deemed worthy to wear the uniform of the US fighting elite.

Or was it?   It wasn’t… at all… not even close.

There was a new source of bigotry cookin’ in the kitchen’s of the White House, Pentagon, Congress, and on stoves all across the land of the free: The Gay soldier. Somehow, amazingly, the men in the halls determined ones sexual orientation equated military fitness (socially, ethically, morally) and could, if left unchecked, undermine the entire foundation of the armed services.  Huh?   And God forbid one happened to be a black Gay soldier… or Black Lesbian soldier… whoa, Nellie… sure as hell can’t have that, now can we?  After all, the public hysteria and fear had kept closets of Gay teachers, athletes, cops, coaches, parents and politicians under lock and key for like… forever, in fear of public crucifixion and personal ruin.  I mean, aren’t gay people perverts, disease ridden, and always always looking to infiltrate our sacrosanct family structure so as to get us all (the straight world) to “Change Teams?”  After all, that’s what the rumor mills crank out… gotta be true, right?   If everyone believes it then it must be true.

Well, the soldiers knew all to well the torches were lighted for them too should they dare come out and exercise their constitutional rights so they did what all persecuted folks do to keep breathing: they kept their damn mouths shut so the $^!% wouldn’t hit the fan

But the $^!t did hit the fan cause some brave gay soldiers and political supporters said no way…

The powers that be were now faced with a political hot potato and a simple question:  How to pander to a largely ignorant and intolerant “Family Value” voting populace while adhering to the Constitution (Remember that document?) and appearing to possess any semblance of an open mind?   “Don’t ask don’t tell” (see keep your damn mouth shut) was the palatable compromise fashioned by the White House, Joint Chiefs, and sheep of the Pentagon.  Kinda sounds like the advice given to Sarah Good and the rest of the Salem hunted to keep them from the Magistrates gavel and Puritans gallows.  Didn’t work, Btw.

And now the whole shebang is back as the House voted to repeal “DADT” aka The Gay Ban.  The tally?  234-yea… 194-nay. The Sectarians… er, ah… Republicans are just peachy with DADT.  All but 5 (including the brave Judy Biggert R-Ill) voted to maintain the ban, while the more progressive Democrats (excluding the 26 doctrinaires) wanna scrap it.  Coons, Carney and Spencer – in addition to Ted Kaufman (who we’re liking a lot these days) –  have stood firm with a LGBT community that is tired of orientation having any bearing on anything.   We agree and applaud them  for such a show of common sense, pragmatism, and fairness.   We’d love to say the same for King Castle who cast his regrettable party vote to extend the ban (but he’ll spin it to the middle soon).  We would love to hear Mama and Papa chime in on this but I’m guessin’ Mama would be a hesitant yea and Papa a definite nay.

But even with the yea vote to end the blatant – and thinly veiled discrimination – this amendment has to pass the muster of the same cast of characters that have helped carry on the hysteria up to this point: The President, Joint Chiefs, and Defense Secretary Robert Gates.  They will  digest the slanted findings of a Pentagon study and walk to the podium.   Now how do you really think, given the nature of political pandering in the vaunted “Family Values” environment, the men in the suits and Unis are gonna come down on this?   And in an election year… hubba hubba.   If you’re guessin’ status quo then you are in the majority.  For DADT to be given a ticket to the scrap heap it will require real courage and big balls on the part of the aforementioned playas.   I’m not sure they’ve got ‘em, but will hold out a glimmer of hope they do…

It also in all fairness must be stated that The President has once again declared June LGBT month.  Yes, we applaud this show of support for fairness but it is after all a proclamation, and they are after all just words.  Getting past the hatred to do what is right will take action.

Now here’s something to consider Mr. President and Secretary Gates… and the Pentagon exploratory squad:   I would wager that there were more than a few gay patriots at the Boston Tea Party (ironic ain’t it) and Massacre, San Juan Hill, Gettysburg, Normandy, Pork Chop Hill, Saigon, and Fallujah.  Many have died defending the freedoms of some of the very citizens who still call them names.   I don’t know about y’all, but when a Gay soldier’s casket is flown to DAFB draped in the American Flag, I call that… debt paid.  Hey people; how many of your “normal” friends would truly take a fatal bullet for you and your family?  They did.  How bout we all grow up, take a look at our own “closets,” and finally… finally treat everyone like human beings

And Americans at that.

So the migration to the beaches begins.  Not quite the hot sunny days we were hoping would stretch from mid-week through the weekend – more like late September than late May – but nice enough to fire up the grill, imbibe with friends at the first Jam Session, or stroll in sweater style on the spankin’ new treated planks of the south boardwalk.  Also not so ungodly hot that being jailed in Rt.1 and 13 traffic doesn’t raise ones BP while shooting pissy glances at the boy/girlfriend who didn’t take off early enough to beat the masses.  By and large a fairly good start to the summer.

Actually, if a ‘nor’easter had decided to make a call and wipe out all the Coppertone dreams, it would still be a great weekend.  And why is that, you may ask?

‘Cause it’s Memorial Day.  And should anyone reading this not get it… you really should get it.  Maybe you rode – or are riding – past the expanse of the Veterans Cemetery off Rt. 71 and noticed the fields of Red White and Blue flapping in unison to the now cool breeze.  Or perhaps you visited a loved one – or two – interned there or some other revered spot .  Regardless, it is a scene like this that puts a ‘lil rainy day into perspective.  This weekend has so little to do with bicycles, beer, French fries, fine dining, or negotiating the curves between Ruddertown and the land of Sunday Bloody Sunday while totally smashed.   Nah, this weekend has everything to do with taking a moment to appreciate the sacrifice many brave souls made so y’all could decide for yourselves whether to cross over to Nalu (love that place) or continue up the west side to further experience the Miller High Life.

Yes, it seems like eons since Omaha Beach, Guadalcanal… (the death march), Pork Chop Hill, Khe Sanh, and the fall of Saigon; or even the opening night of Desert Storm.  The fierce street fighting in Kandahar at times touches the senses only as a CNN night light.  But these all have littered our consciousness in addition to our landscape with fields of white crosses that often lie in anonymity as we make our way quickly (we hope) in efforts not to miss the Toss of the Tacos.  Sad isn’t it?

How many of our brethren would love to have stuck around to witness such gaiety and popped a couple of cold ones with us all?  More than one could ever imagine.

This weekend – and Day – is entirely about our freedoms and those whom took it upon themselves to bestow on us all such a benevolent and admirable gift; and at such a dear price.

DE2010.com writes of the political realm and how it has become at times as oily as the tentacles of marshlands and waterways surrounding N’awlins; the protection of our Constitution, Bill of Rights, and preservation of our freedom.  So Mama, Papa, King, Chosen One, Quiet Man, and Spencer for Hire, take a breath if y’all would and get the dubious state of our State and National political specter out of your minds for a couple of days. Think more of why you’re really here and what ya really ought to be doin’.   If you think for a moment that the spirits of those lost are all smilin’ on the many liberties lost while folks were busy securing or keeping their jobs, then by all means fire up the Weber, throw on a Kansas City Cut and pop open a Fife Zin.  But make certain to serve up a side of conscience with them taters…K?

And for our readers?  We wish – along with the politicos – a safe, festive and introspective weekend.  Just remember who provided it for ya and what it takes to keep it.

Ciao

All this time trying like everyone else to figure out how to stretch a dollar… down economy, yo… when all I had to was run down to Kreston’s … I mean, Boarders and buy Ruth Ann’s new book THE MINNER MIRICLE. “ Loaves, fishes, and bottled beer.” Hell of a book I hear.  Sold fairly well the past few years,  but with the sparks of intrigue now rainin’ down on Grandma Minner and her administration… yes, that means the “Chosen One” too, I think the book could hit the NY Times best seller list in no time.

This Bud to Bud bang for the buck that Ruth Ann slud (a Dizzy Dean word) by those snoozing in Dover, was by all accounts the deal of the Century for Chris Tigani and NKS, but now may become the scandal of the Century; and at a time when John Carney has yet to really break the Champagne across the bow of his sleek  new racing sloop of a campaign.  He had just better hope his former boss don’t leave him without a Mainsail.

The bloodletting has begun and the pointy ‘lil fingers are not just attached to the GOPer hands of Tom Ross; who btw called this “an outright crime” while inviting the Feds to come have a look-see.  Nah, the Dems are in no position to get caught with their mid-term pants down, and are burnin’ up the intra-party phone lines searchin’ for plausible damage control scenarios.  Pete Schwartzkoph – the short straw spokesperson – became the Dems first face. He stopped short of the “C” word, but did call it “Just plain wrong.”  He also added a ‘lil humor (unintended) when he said that “Lawmakers were surprised by the reports.”  Surprised.  Uh huh.  The Dems are in heightened anxiety – with some seen breathing into paper bags – and op tempo as they try to repair the hole in their side caused by Grandma’s torpedo while keeping in close proximity to the lifeboats.  That includes the Chosen One.

So we are calling for Ruth Ann to come clean… fess up.  This passin’ the buck and fuzzy memory just ain’t gonna cut it.  You have a party and serious candidates to look after and you’re lookin’ pretty small.

It would also do John well to call a ‘lil press conference of his own and clear the air on any knowledge he did – or didn’t – have of the deal.   We do find it hard to believe that this matter was outside his attention, but the benefit of the doubt is in play and will stay there until he speaks.  

Two thing’s for sure:  This is all just warmin up, and The Dems just can’t have this.

Been driving Del 1 a lot lately;  with the convention last week and a lil break this weekend past.  Prob gonna run the tires again in a few days as the Cultured Pearl and “Columbia Blue” skies beckon scribes and Vets alike to revisit the Nations Summer Capital.  Good Memorial Day beach weather has never been a sure bet and most Delaware natives’ memories of this time of year are of crackin’ open a cold one while tending to the grill in full North Face poncho regalia; battling driving vertical rains in bone numbing cold.  Welcome to Dewey and get hammered cause that’s all there is to do…lol. So the forecast this time around may actually call for a frosty cold Bud.

Ah, a frosty cold Bud.  The King of Beers.  Clydesdales, promotional beer bunnies with big, er… ah, tubs… of BL, and a timeless Christmas Commercial.  Yeah, that Bud.  Funny, from what I’m hearin,’ if one were to gauge and describe the temp anywhere within 10 kilometers of the Budweiser distributor in DE… NKS… these days it would be “Frosty Cold.”  How very apropo, ya know.   Good for beer, bad for families.   Seems to be a very serious chill emanating from a Tigani Camp where none of the players (see La Famille) would be classified as “Buds.”   But that is just immediate family.  We  gonna talk extended family, bro… like Grandma “Pass the buck” Minner and her valet… I mean,  Chief of Staff, Mark Brainard, who together with the King of Beer, engineered  what is now being described as a Real Sweet Steal of a Deal for the Sultan of Suds.  And the source of all the bangarang?  Why a State owned plot of land (10.3 acres) in Milford that according to learned sources would fetch a hefty $84 + grand per month on the “open market” but was somehow???? “negotiated” and handed over to Chris Tigani for a whopping $1,500 a month for 66 years, by Ruth Ann “I think it was Chris that called me” Minner, or was it her driver or her gardener… hmmm… she can’t recall… but not her; according to her best recollection, of course.  Now, my background is in literature and the social sciences, and my math’s a ‘lil off, but isn’t that kinda like Chris renting any of us his beach house for a couple hundred bucks a summer for the next 50 years?   Yeah, a real sweet deal, I’d say.  It stinks, sure… but how many of us would turn it down… be honest folks.

What’s of interest to us is not so much Tigani and his “almost” free future state warehouse space, but rather a Governor who seemingly allowed herself to be schmoozed; passed the buck (or is it thrown under a Dart bus), pulled the old convenient memory trick, and somehow was not involved having washed her hands of any grease that may have been on her palms.   Of course flying with the Sudsman on his leased (18 G’s) private jet to Ottawa (a year after the deal) accompanied by a liquor lobbyist, while raising some eyebrows along with the BP of the GOP, looks fuzzy enough .  But when what followed was more eyebrow raising when the liquor industry was the recipient of some very favourable tax breaks, that is a story.

And this story ain’t goin’ away.   And neither is the fact that Grandma Minner had a main man, the one “chosen” by the peeps to be her right arm and closest confidant.  The one who claims on his resume to have been as integral part of day to day decision making as has ever been by a second banana.  This all somehow escaped his notice?  Not even a posted note?  Nope, John Carney somehow was left out of the loop on this one; that is if Maureen “I’m not from” Milford of the NJ is to be believed.

The News Journal’s front page above the crease Sunday best opened with “Former Gov. Ruth Ann Minner’s administration helped push through what commercial agents say is a sweet deal…”  Yep, mentioned her administration.  And who is only one player removed from the Gov herself?… The Chosen One.  Yet I scoured the entire piece; all 3 some odd thousand words and damn if there wasn’t a single reference to the Second man in charge.  Amazing.  John Carney is a man who stays on top of everything (or so we hear) and the thought of a deal like this would be made without his knowledge or councel would seem odd.  Perhaps an effort to keep his name annexed from the story?  You tell me.

We’ll see as this unfolds a ‘lil more. It’s politics; need we say more?

So when y’all are driving from C-5 city to Rehoboth this weekend, take a look to your right when passin’ the home of the 1971 Boys State Basketball Champs.  At the corner of Front and 1 there’s a parcel of land.  Maybe pull over and get out of the sun for a few and see what all the hub bub’s about .  There ain’t no trees but it’s still real shady.

John Carney has been more of a Quiet Man than The Quiet Man (Coons) recently.  Being the Dems “Chosen One” for the House post does come with certain advantages and not feeling a compelling charge to stump his butt off this early and commit precious resources are amongst the many.   His only primary competition, coming as it is from the direction of an impoverished grass roots upstart (Scott Spencer), hasn’t caused many – if any – sleepless nights and has allowed John to sanguinely sit back and call his shots.  Issues abound, of course, but none have been able to effectively flush him out  to take much in the way of anything but fleeting rhetorical jabs at that which could stamp his campaign and him as a candidate.  Not that he doesn’t truly care; its more that he just hasn’t  had to as of yet.

Until now.   And sakes alive, he’s taken on the President in the process.  Guess if you’re gonna step out ya may as well step out in style… and in a big way.

And the contention?  Drilling.  Oil prospecting a few miles off the Rehoboth Boardwalk, and in view of the latest ecological disaster that has be felled the industry and the delicate, defenseless coastline of Louisiana.  In what has become a well documented (drilling proponents would interject “ad nauseam”) crisis, with its catastrophic scenarios coming home to roost, the blast and sinking of the Deepwater Horizon – and subsequent slick emanating from ocean’s floor – has woken up many a politico who’s shores could now become a target should President O’Biden’s plan see the light of day.

John Carney has drawn his own line in the black sand and taken a stand against the White House and his bud the Vice President.  He is saying no to the both of them.  Now the cynical amongst us may look at this as politicizing this unfortunate event to gain favour with a fearful voting populace who look at the CNN clips and wonder what it would mean should that happen here; and they wouldn’t be far off base with that assumption.  He is after all a politician.  But that does not suggest we discount his (we hope) genuine intent to stand opposed to oil in favour of more “Green based initiatives.” A stand here is a step in that direction and ought to be applauded.

As we’ve written here often, safe oil exploration could have its place if the industry can deliver that safety along with the spin.  So far they’ve fallen way short and the legislators along the coast are in the huddle calling their next play.  The O’Biden defensive squad wasn’t planning on The Deepwater deep sixing their new GOP-like drilling mode of thought.  As a result, they are in an intraparty duel now and Carney is walkin’ off the 10 paces.  Gotta give him that.

He’s chosen a hot topic which could mean a cold shoulder from the White House.

He ain’t quiet now.

Given our recent reports (one picked up by Richard Black of the BBC… “Up in Flames”) on the developing environmental disaster off Nawlins’, some may look at this title as an extension of that coverage.   They would be mistaken.  This piece, while not focusing on the flood of crude with its sights set on Magazine St, does carry an ominous metaphor that is currently drifting towards the shores of the Republican State Convention in less than a fortnight.  The once pristine waters of a unified party are being threatened by a slick comprised of fractured relationships and dissent amongst its very core – and those who feel they should be the core.  Right leaner’s, moderates, Tea’s; all on their own soapbox with a biased and dogmatic view of just what the party must now stand for.  It could get ugly; and at a time when solidarity would appear to be a most valued commodity.

Now for anyone who’s ever been to a political convention, National or State, they would then be familiar with the ancillary revelry, debauchery and hi jinx that accompany the (serious) nature at hand.  It’s a time for struttin’ one’s – and the party’s – stuff while the family elders and network of envoys debate agenda, construct platforms, choose its emissaries (candidates) , and move towards the goal of whuppin’ the Dems in November.  It’s when a party ought to be at its zenith.  On top of its game.  But if the memo sent to the GOP party leadership yesterday by one of its delegates was any bellwether,  there’s gonna be trouble in River City, and it rhymes with T and that stands for TEA.

Ah, the memo.  With residue of Tetley all over it, the manifest was rife with the 9-12 fingerprints: Free market, fiscal responsibility, constitutionally limited Government,  and a constructing a platform the GOP and The Tea’s can agree on, and general intolerance for anyone with the temerity to hold one counter thought.   Actually it read more like a diaphanous threat; Like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction when she chillingly tells Michael Douglas “That I won’t be ignored.” Yeah, it’s just like that.

Oh, but it gets better.  The said delegate, Evan Queitsch, goes on to Blast… and I mean BLAST… The King as a pert near conservative anti-Christ that stands in the way of true right wing constitutional ideology.  Now The King may be a ‘lil soft in the middle, but the Tea’s are steppin’ outta bonds with that one.  EQ proceeded to list vote after vote, Mike’s record as it applies to the “Global Warming hoax” (Castle siding with the environment), Omnibus Bill, the Wall St. bailout (the King voted in favour), Planned Parenthood; leveling him for voting against an amendment to withhold fed tax dollars from Planned Parenthood (oh, the horrors), and even attacking the King for voting for “Cash for Clunkers,” as they feel it would eliminate affordable wrecks better earmarked for the poor… for the poor now, huh?   This of course is a two way street these cars travel; one to supplying cars to those without; one to boosting the economy by Jump starting some sagging auto sales  Suffice to say, he (EQ) – and his followers – don’t care much for moderation in any form.  And directed at the venerable one!  Get out!  Coonsy’s gotta be turnin’ cartwheels.

And even though there exists some intelligent differences in the rant, his wheels fall off when he whole heartedly endorses Christine O’Donnell, referring to her as a Party Martyr (our words) that would be a player if only the King would debate her… which just ain’t gonna happen.  She is a non factor and a fraud candidate who due to her Tea leaf aura has been embraced as legitimate by those with the Grass Roots.  Maybe she ought to cut her teeth debating Rose.  Now that I would pay to see.

And the cherry on top of it all is the ringing endorsement of the now popular Papa U, who, if the chips fall just right could be the name at the top of the ticket.  But he cannot afford to piss off the very folks who are now pissed off at this shot over the bow.  This makes Mama Rollins a much more attractive candidate and unifier in the eyes of Prissy and Laird… and a bunch of other folks.   Yes, our political scene needs dissention to keep everyone honest, but a party also needs wins… not losses… and this fracture portents a big ‘ole “L” in November if the GOPer’s don’t straighten out their act.  Papa and his team better watch for the yellow light before it changes its mind.  Oh, and K-Wade (mentioned favourably to a T) ought to keep an eye on the yellow light as well… I’m just sayin’… somethin’ ‘bout the company you keep.

So there you have it Soap Fans.  Payton Place has returned for a new season with Chris Coons and John Carney calling Comcast for the full cable package.

Don’t worry if ya missed the original air date… they’ll replay the entire pilot on May 15^th.

So we come to the end of the line with our Pretender list.  During this time we have featured those who, without the name, experience, money, or true grasp as to what it takes to get elected; and, if ever elected, what it would take to actually do the job as a US Congressman/woman or Senator.  It seems that for some unknown reason there are those for whom these realities do not apply.  That as long as one has announced their candidacy, put up a web site, stumped at a couple of fire hall gatherings, and raised a couple – and we mean couple – of bucks, that they miraculously – and overnight – have become a bright, popular, knowledgeable, and attractive candidate.  If only it worked that way.  It doesn’t.

And even if all the wizards, genies, and leprechauns suddenly bestowed on these wannabe’s the millions needed to compete at this high level, most of the names on the pretender list would still suffer from a dearth of political acuity,  personalities to rally the masses, and a genuine possession of the labyrinth of  local, national and global complexities as it applies to the office they seek.  This lil old fact has eluded them into a delusional state.

But there is one candidate amongst this dubious crowd, we feel, that should he come into possession of such a commanding coffer as all the “Big Names”, then he would become a very serious candidate indeed.  We of course are referring to one Scott Spencer.  What, you may ask?  After blasting Rose and K and Freddie, etc…?  And poor (and we mean poor) Brent Wangen; he of disclosed 20 whole dollars cash in hand, Brent Wangen.  What could possibly make Scott Spencer so special… so different from the rest?   What – the other pretenders may inquire – does this transit consultant have what we don’t have?  After all, we too are official, well maybe… depending on who you ask.

Well, for starters, he is – in our opinion – a playa (albeit, a poor one), a natural civil servant waiting to happen.   A tsunami in search of an subterranean quake.  In the driven fashion of Gerald Brady (who was courting votes in pre-school), Spencer walks through the front door.  He has charisma, he has balls, he can be seen carrying his soapbox to any street corner he needs to be on.  Doesn’t back off – or down – from facing off with John Carney.   He has total command and belief of his platform, and can articulate – and at great length… lol – every nuance of every issue to which he is passionate; recite with certainty and clarity any fact that will bolster his case and educate even one constituent. …and even accept intelligent and objective counter arguments to his own beliefs.  He listens (he likes to talk more) but is never adverse to bending ears on what he values most:   Human and Constitutional rights, Tooling for electric cars, investing (heavily) on green technology, hunger and housing initiatives for the poor, education, Middle East peace accords, putting the pump jockey – ergo creating new jobs – back to work at gas stations, and keeping the promise he made to his family to keep Sundays free from politics… good luck with that one… lol.

Scott Spencer is a pretender… but he isn’t.  A red white and blue walking dichotomy, folks.  A pretender in that he can’t win, struggles to raise the financing necessary to buy one good billboard let alone fire home his message and burn his name in consciousness of a Carney loyal Democratic public.  He doesn’t remotely have the “party backing”, but doesn’t seem to give a s@$#.  But he too falls to such pretender delusions and related spin when it comes to financing.  His “I’ll just say the amount of campaign contributions shouldn’t be the focus of a campaigns success” mantra is a dead pull to left that he doesn’t have a pot to p!$$ in when it comes to Campaign finance.  He also mentions he takes no special interest money.  Hmmmmm.  Really, Scott… has there been any special interest from the special interest in your campaign?  So you would turn down a hundred grand or two right now?  I don’t think so.  But it sounds good.

So Scott Spencer is a contender who wont contend.  Just won’t happen, bro.  But it is fun to imagine what ya could do if ya had the 600 hundred grand JC’s got on his debit card.

Ya got game, Spencer… just nowhere to play it.  But it will be cool watchin’ you tackle the chosen one this primary season.

One thing is for sure.  This guy will play all nine innings.

SHOCKING!, I SAY.  A STAGGERING TURN OF EVENTS!  GET OUT!  WHO WOULD’VE THUNK IT?  A COMPLETE AND UTTER SURPRISE, THIS IS!

Michele Rollins has us all flabbergasted.  She pre-announced her candidacy (with Jud Bennett…WTF) for a run at the US Congress!!!!!  Wow!  We had no idea.  What a curveball.  Is it true?

Yep.  Take it to the bank, folks; The Grand Cougar threw her name into the hat today and sent a couple of wannabes over to the Logan House for Double Grey Goose shots w/Red Stripe chasers.  Interestingly enough the kitchen crew of the Loho was preppin’ some Jerk Chicken in anticipation of the early arrivals; perhaps as a portent to some future early departures?…lol.   Speaking of which, Fred Cullis was the first to show- carrying with him his departure from the race in the form of a satchel containing his endorsement for Mama.  Gotta love a guy who caves that early.  Must be a handwriting expert or somethin’, or got a piping hot dish of Quid Pro Quo served to him earlier in the day or a promise of a lifetime supply of RBB (really big buttons).  Regardless, Fred ain’t no fool (buttons aside) and caught the first train out.  Wasn’t to Washington, but hey, it was the Acela.  There were some other faces at the bar as well but they was wearin’ Ray-Bans.  Drink up boyz.

One persona who saved the 2 hr drive and the petrol money (to pay for his spiffy new consultants) was Papa U (oh, sorry, Glen Urquhart for all you newbies).  He feels the shine these days and ain’t concedin’ nothin’…  So he sits back in Rehoboth tonight and works on plans to not get smoked in the primary… I’m just sayin’.   K-Wade ain’t opting out either, although he was seen smackin’ down the chicken.  He got himself some sporty new consultants too and they’ve got him fired up; for what we don’t know… but he is fired up.

Mama Rollins is the name of the hour.  She’s got the game, the cash, the glam, and the King’s support.  Yeah, we know… ain’t no such thing as a sure thing (Just ask John Carney), but Glen and K will have to ratchet it up a ton to climb in the winners circle after what is shaping up to be a pretty good primary.

Carney will watch, of course, as he still has to get past Scott Spencer (feature appearing here next week).  John will take – or talk – nothing for granted anymore and will take Spencer seriously (he should).  But his eyes are squarely on the Grand Dame.

So are everyone else’s.

As it has been reported ad nauseam (and with good reason) the Health Care Bill remains a hot topic on both sides of the political isle.  The division is palpable and striking with cable pundits refereeing the bout.  The Republicans are loathe to offer a shred of support – ya think? – while the Democrats are struttin’ ‘round DuPont circle like prized peacocks having shoved the whole shebang down the GOP’s throats while pullin’ a lil wool over the American voter’s eyes.   While of course their exists a legitimate number of concerns for the bill (college students bending over and all), and added to the mix that this play ain’t over by a long shot (can you say amendments?), the fact is that the pen(S) has been put to paper and the Big F’n deal is done.

Now we expected the republicans arctic response and demeanor; as partisanship affords nada to the contrary.  We also know that the GOPponents have some genuine concerns; I don’t’ know… like paying for it… So forgive them if they aren’t doing cartwheels at the moment.  And we know the (incumbent Dems) are Lady Ga Ga over their display of muscle beach political bravado so they can be forgiven for hoistin’ a couple too many at Hay-Adams.  The combo of responses was predictable.  What was not forseen – at least to this degree – was (and is) the Copperfield disappearing act many of the Dem congressional hopefuls have pulled off to avoid coming down in anyway – yea or nay – on the deal. Conspicuous in its absence are any peeps coming from the mid-term boyz.

And leading the pack with his own version of “Run Silent, Run Deep” when it comes to piping in with support for the bill is our own House band hopeful… one John Carney.  One would think he would at least stand with his party when celebrating, but then he never stood anything but in tacit ambiguity during most of the debate leading up to the power play.  Granted, the public opinion split was – and is – feverous, and politicos love to front end load their runs with popularity, but we have not an inkling where the All-Stater stands in proximity to the kitchen’s calidity; choosing evidently a safe distance as to keep from cauterizing his campaign on a very hot topic.  Don’t ask, don’t tell no longer applies to Gays in the military.  It now is the mantra of many Dem Congressional hopefuls when this hot topic is on the stove.

So we ask Mr. Carney: What say you?  You in the kitchen?  You like the Bill… on its merit?  You side with the GOP concerns?  What would you have changed… if anything?  You think Delawareans are better off or not?  And how bout the plight of the soon to be really pissed off U of D, D-State, Wilmo U, Del Tech, and Goldey B students, and those selling their souls to afford the trip to Hanover…  ya know, the mass that rely on loans (rather than athletic Scholarship) to see their way through.  Any of this HCB funding coming out of their pockets down the road?  FYI: they ain’t happy, bro.

The voters are wondering and so are we, so fess up.  It’ll be painless we promise ya.  You’ll feel better ‘bout it when it’s off your chest.

We offer our forum (as we did for the King) from which to speak.  You know where to find us.