Bernie Sanders Joins the Suicide Squad (August 2016)

[Originally written in August 2016, and intended as a review of the film Suicide Squad; presented here in edited form].

"The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity." I posted this quote, alongside a screenshot of Frank Sinatra performing in the 1970s, to my Facebook page on the morning following Bernie Sanders' submission at the Democratic National Convention. I was feeling disheartened and ornery and hungover, and intentionally misattributed the quote-- the final line from William Butler Yeats' poem "The Second Coming"-- to The Chairman of the Board. Nobody commented; nobody cared. I corrected myself two days later, not willing to be complicit in the charade-- but we have become so. The Democratic National Convention had been, by many accounts, a tumultuous event, riddled by scandals sprung from multiple email leaks that proved Bernie Sanders never have a chance. Some have alleged that the Democratic party conspired against the popular Socialist-turned-Democrat; others interpreted the emails to reveal a nefarious and corrupt political machine, one whose influence reaches into the operations of the federal government. By the time Sanders called for a vote by acclimation from the floor of the Wells Fargo Center in Philadelphia, the email leaks were making for bold headlines coast-to-coast-- not for their content, but for their alleged ties to Russian hackers (and perhaps had something to do with the Republican frontrunner's allegedly cozy relationship with the Russian President).

As Bernie spoke that night, this country kicked off a new era of politics: one in which we can expect not just the active participation and manipulation of the media by political groups, but intentional deception. Paid online trolls to riddle the opposition's Facebook group pages with provocative and fictional facts. Elected representatives speak so deceptively as to require "fact checking." Within two weeks of the close of the Convention, the Democratic nominee was applauded-- loudly-- by a gathering of the Washington press, at her first "press conference" in hundreds of days. All question as to the tactics that got her there had clearly evaporated: she was and is an alternative to the GOP nominee, always has been. Lauded by the Fourth Estate, the democratic process limps forward, almost mocking itself, as only one real candidate appears to have long been the plan. Formerly-passionate Facebook friends of mine declare their willing ignorance and resignation to all things political. This morning among my friends a link is spreading that explains how people's minds aren't changed because of what they may read online, and that commenting on politics on Facebook is useless. We seem to be beginning to live in a world that truly accepts when the ends justify the means-- and we seem to be more willing to look the other way, when the ends seem to match up with our own.

Into this ethically nebulous space enters the Warner Brothers film Suicide Squad, which opened nationwide on the first weekend of August and promptly set a record for box office revenue. Suicide Squad is less of a vehicle for any specific star, and more of DC's answer to Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy: a collection of morally questionable misfits band together to save the world. Unlike Marvel's cutesy and glitzy box office mechanism, DC's Suicide Squad is explicit in its politics: Amanda Waller (played well by Viola Davis, though I kept imagining Robin Quivers in the role) is a calculating official operating on behalf of the federal government and in the name of national and global security, assembles a team of ethically nebulous superhumans. Waller's practices are unorthodox, and may be perhaps more reprehensible than any individual member of the gang she assembles-- but she is in it because she sees the future of the country at stake. It is politics by any means necessary.

A real-life Amanda Waller?

I won't unpack the symbolism of each member of the Suicide Squad (is there any?), but will draw attention to the timing of the movie's release: filling summertime theaters just as Bernie Sanders, who somehow motivated millions politically, called for a vote by acclimation from the floor of the Democratic National Convention. His concession came amid scandal that would, in months hence, become thunderous, ominous. By the time the foliage was in full bloom in his (and my) home state of Vermont, Bernie Sanders' name had become synonymous not with his political platform or stance on a given issue, but rather a symbol of the documented corruption within the Democratic Party. Sanders never had a chance. His only hope was to play it by the rules that were handed him: join the team and be given an important but not ultimate role, one that will look and feel like power. Sanders joined something like the Suicide Squad on that afternoon in Philadelphia, knowing his work would continue to have meaning as long as he was willing to fit into somebody else's larger scheme. "Ignore everything I've been saying for the past nine months," the memes would say. Who among us will continue to lack all intention? And will the passionate intensity of this election subside in early November-- or is concession the only hope? 

The Unable Danger of Curt Weldon

When I was ascending through elementary school, I was also climbing the ranks within Cub Scout Pack 292 (Aston, PA). We were a small Pack-- twenty or so scouts, and a handful of dedicated leaders-- and met weekly within our two or three 'dens,' and monthly, as a pack. With what looked like high formality to second and third graders, we would set up the flags-- the Pack flag and the American flag-- that were stored in a hall closet at the church that hosted us (Aston Presbyterian). That closet was loaded with decades of scouting history: the Pack's flag was there, but so was the flag for a (not long to be) defunct Troop bearing the same number. So were flags noting patrols and dens of Scouts long since moved on. When me and my peers became Cub Scouts, we grew accustomed to the ritual of setting up the flags-- and the heavy, brass-looking stands that held them up during our meetings.

Scouting played a big role in my life; it put me in touch with many people I would have otherwise not known. One of those people was Curt Weldon. My then-Congressman appeared at one of our monthly Pack meetings and presented us with a brand-new American flag-- that had actually been flown over the Capital of the United States! We were in awe of it, and in awe of this tall, dark-suited "politician." Later, during the height of my awkward high school years, Curt reached out and voiced his support for an event connected to my Eagle Scout project: an 'anti-gang rally' held in the school auditorium. On a break from my undergraduate years spent in Aston, I ended up on a bus tour with my mother and the Aston Republican Women's Committee, organized by Weldon's wife. I remember little from the trip, except shaking hands once again (for a third time?) with Curt Weldon-- and also the moment when the gaggle of us happened upon Sonny Bono as we were escorted through the halls of Congress.

Congressman Weldon's political career ended in controversy surrounding his daughter, wife, lobbying, and unethical ties to a Russian oil company, first reported by the Philadelphia Inquirer. Some, including Weldon himself, allege the timing of the FBI's investigation in 2004-- which involved searching the contents of his office as well as his daughter's home-- was to influence his fast-approaching re-election day. Some conspiracists believe Weldon's uncovering of Mohammed Atta's connection to the 9/11 terrorists, as well as his uncovering of a secret military scheme titled "Able Danger" led to his unseating from Congress. Weldon lost badly that year, to a retired Vice Admiral running as a Democrat, and hadn't been from since-- until a letter a few months back, supporting the 'let's-clean-house' rhetoric of both Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump. And this morning, lurking in my Facebook feed like fresh dogshit on an unmowed suburban lawn, sat a picture of a white-haired Weldon-- not the way I remembered him, from second grade, or high school-- and the headline, which was Curt's a full-throated endorsement of Donald Trump, hosted as a "guest columnist" by the Delaware County Daily Times. His clearest lines:

I am disgusted with both national political parties and their manipulation of the process and the people I served for 30 years. [...]

We now know that Bernie’s campaign was doomed from the start because he dared to challenge the “system” and the national machine of the Clintons. Donald Trump has many personal shortcomings – but at this point in our country we need a strong leader who will clean out the cesspool in both political parties in Washington, DC. This may be our only opportunity in our lifetimes to dramatically change the direction of our country!

Curt's op-ed descends into the rhetoric that has become commonplace during this election cycle: trade deals have killed this economy, law enforcement are being targeted in the streets, drugs are "pouring" over our borders and destroying society. I couldn't help but wonder what Curt thought he was going to accomplish in penning this op-ed: was his voice still a viable one? Did his endorsement matter? Did the people of Delco buy the official narrative regarding his unethical behavior, or did they think it was somehow a political smear? Did it matter, ten years later? Weldon seemed to think time heals all political wounds (though he mentions early in his op-ed that he voted for Carter over Ford, due to Ford's pardoning of Nixon?), and that his voice, the voice of Curt Weldon, once a respected politician and someone Cub Scouts looked up to, was important enough to raise in support of the GOP front runner. Trump is a man whose total lack of experience and destructive, childlike behavior continues to get a pass from so much conservative media-- but not, I had expected (or hoped?) from armchair conservatives like Weldon, with records of public service and time spent in DC. I don't know what, if anything, I had expected to hear from Curt Weldon, regarding the Presidential Campaign of 2016. I do know his op-ed was written to have been run in the Daily Times within a week of the election, as Weldon's sign-off pledges his (and his wife's) support for Trump 'this coming Tuesday': 

Folks – believe me – it’s leadership in both political parties that cause the problems that we face every day. And, in this election only one candidate will take on the “system” and those who have benefitted for years.

On Tuesday, my wife, Mary, and I will vote for Donald Trump!

In comment boxes online and on Facebook, the public was not especially kind of Weldon, though some Trump supporters posted memes ("Drain the Swamp" was most memorable). While I don't blame Weldon for wanting to be vocal about his distrust for Hillary Clinton, seeing this former politician from my hometown make the case in print for a liar, a bigot, and a man willing to admit publicly to sexual assault to be the next President of the United States was difficult-- at one point, at a very young age, I looked up to Curt Weldon. I do not know about his daughter, her company, or any of their ties to Russia; I do know who he is supporting for President, and who he will refuse to support. I know too he believes his voice is important, and so does his county's daily newspaper-- important enough to print, as a guest columnist. I know he once handed my Cub Scout Pack an American flag, a symbol of freedom, and how, in this country, we're to treat each other. Those days are over now; perhaps they never actually began. Weldon will not be the only skeletal-closet/former Republican to come out and support the Presidential nominee over the next twelve days. Perhaps Curt really did crack open something he shouldn't have, and thus really has been shunned politically, to the extent necessary to believe Trump's 'outsider' status is actually going to get him anything. Any fool can make a pro-Trump argument featuring Hillary, which is what Weldon accomplished, but that does not necessarily make him a fool. The spelling error in Weldon's final paragraph was retained from the original, in the excerpt above, for accuracy, and to help (for yourselves) answer the "who's the fool?" question. Maybe it was Curt's own error, or maybe it counts as one of "newspaper racket" editor Phil Heron's mistakes, for not catching it. Regardless: they deserve each other. 

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Later in the day, a WCAX poll emerges, from the Green Mountains: Hillary will handily beat Trump, but nearly one-third of those polled claimed to be voting for someone other than Clinton or Trump. A few points for Jill Stein, a few for Gary Johnson-- but ten percent for someone other than even those four. Ben? Jerry? The World's Most Interesting Man? Or are the Green Mountains still Feeling the Bern, despite all rational thought? 

Martin, P. (23 Oct. 2006). "The Case of Curt Weldon: Republican Congressman targeted after criticizing 9/11 cover up." World Socialist Web Site. Retrieved from https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2006/10/weld-o23.html

Weldon, C. (26 Oct. 2016). "Guest Columnist: Curt Weldon in Trump's Corner." Delaware County Daily Times. Retrieved from http://www.delcotimes.com/opinion/20161026/guest-column-curt-weldon-in-trumps-corner

Birth of a Blog: Hangin' Tough at the Wonderful House

After eight years of Ike, it was hard to imagine anyone except a retired board chairman or a senile ex-general having any influence in Government. They were the government—a gang of rich, mean-spirited old fucks who made democracy work by beating us all stupid with a series of billion-dollar hypes they called Defense Contracts, Special Subsidies, and “emergency tax breaks” for anybody with the grease to hire a Congressman. –HST, to Jim Silberman, 1/13/70 (261).

Two weeks until the Presidential election. I sat in the Wonderful House Chinese Restaurant, in one of the small pockets of development out here in the high desert, as I waited for my Schezuan Beef Lunch Combo. The news was still breaking in east coast time, while here in southeastern Colorado, the two hour delay made each scathing headline more surreal, each allegation of journalistic collusion more like a fantasy, told far away from the dry and dusty hills I was hiding out in. In addition to the coyotes last night one of the Clinton’s main “fixers” was howling last night to Sean Hannity about Hillary’s torrid sex life, her alleged affair with the undead Vince Foster, and so much more squawking from the shadows of the past and not so distant present. The night before that, much of America tuned in to watch one human beat another with a baseball bat lined with barbed wire on The Walking Dead-- pop fiction, as if ultra-violence were anything new. There are no fixers for that: people would rather watch humans bash in each other's skulls than confront the political binary. At least the Internet punditry gave up on berating Bob Dylan for not acknowledging the Nobel committee, and moved on to rant about the gruesome and gory sequences. I didn’t watch it, but supposedly it was a high water mark for violence on television—that is, the fictional and intentionally-scripted stuff. The real violence—be it in Chicago, North Dakota, or in Cleveland—hasn't been broadcast on the television in a very, very long time. Sometimes it is found inside the clickable windows on our pocket-sized devices; more and more of the time, it is becoming knowledge that one must seek out. 

The speakers in the Wonderful House are usually pumping out some Internet audio stream of 1980s music. The last time I was there, NKOTB’s “Hangin’ Tough” came on while I slowly enjoyed what the menu calls “General” Chicken. On this visit, however, two songs began playing at once—“Girls Just Want to Have Fun” and something else from the 1980s, at a much lower volume, unrecognizable, but with a masculine tenor moan that was likely The Police. I was seated in the back corner, directly beneath the speaker. Nobody seemed to mind the music; I’m not sure anyone else even noticed. The waitress refilled my water glass from a plastic pitcher, unfazed. The two songs—like the two candidates—were cancelling out each other’s relevance, only adding to the din that was the aural background of the restaurant. Nobody cared which song was which; we had heard it all before. Both were recordings completed and distributed over thirty years ago; if both were to be playing at once, no one would care, and maybe even no one would notice. Because it was so memorable, I will probably always hear NKOTB's "Hangin' Tough" when I eat at the Wonderful House, simply because I will probably never be paying as close attention again. My food arrived.

As I was eating, another update came through, from what felt like a faraway location: Democratic running mate Tim Kaine was holding a rally for thirty people somewhere on the eastern seaboard. Photos confirmed that there were just about as many people present here in the Wonderful House. Two weeks remained. Patrons came and went. A new campaign appeared in my Facebook feed, on behalf of the GOP nominee, offering one’s name forever emblazoned on the wall of Trump Tower in New York City for a mere $2,000 donation. Could he pull it off? Some polls had him up by one or two; others had her up by twelve, or twenty. Some said the election was over. Some said it never began. I wondered if any of my Facebook friends-- mostly high school peers-- were successful enough to be able to afford to pledge $2,000, and if so, would any want to. It seemed incredibly doubtful that any of my Facebook friends considered attending Tim Kaine's failed attempt at a rally. The simultaneous songs continued as I finished my lunch, still creating nothing but a cacophony that all of us eating learned to ignore.

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I am a Hunter S. Thompson fan from way back, long before he met Johnny Depp, and long before his days as an ESPN columnist. His collected letters (edited by Douglas Brinkley) were published while I was completing my MFA degree at Goddard College, and I made these central to my study of 20^th century poetry and creative nonfiction. I am not, however, an aspiring “gonzo journalist,” nor am I seeking to emulate or imitate Hunter’s drug-fueled antics, the stuff of legend. I am interested, however, in how Thompson would view this election, were he still alive. While Wikileaks’ troves of information have provided at the very least circumstantial evidence regarding the unethical behavior of Hillary Clinton, I believe Thompson may have been most disgusted by the collusion of the press with one of the major party candidates. As we sadly lack Hunter’s voice in our American political discourse, this blog represents my own—which is in no way to suggest my chops as a political writer or journalist are even in the same ballpark as Thompson’s. This blog, to be active in the two weeks prior to the Presidential Election of 2016, will represent my thoughts and experiences surrounding the Presidential Election of 2016. It is inspired by Hunter S. Thompson, and thus posts may include quotes from his collected letters and other works. The postings on this site are my own and do not necessarily represent the postings, strategies, or opinions of any employer or client I have at present, or may have in the future. --CS