The Forty Foot Dive into a Tub of Water

Madam President, the members of the body, and all you, you nice folks up in the gallery there, I rise to say my piece. Isn’t this better, all of us together here because of that quorum call. I can share my side of the story, and hopefully afterwards, well…well, will just have to see what you all say, okay?

Were it a better day, I’d just be here talking about Frank Capra’s 1939 film Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. You know, I’d, I’d be saying how it’s a little slow to get going, but that part is important to get us to the famous filibuster, and all of that. I’d also discuss how Hollywood has often romanticized the filibuster, despite it usually being a tool for obstruction by reactionaries to thwart progress.  And, oh, yes? A question from the gentlewoman from Pennsylvania?

Would…would I have talked about The West Wing and “The Stackhouse Filibuster”? Oh you better believe I would have talked about it, heh heh.

It would have been a lot of fun, and could have tied into what we hoped was going to be a good day for America on Tuesday. And…well, you know how all of that turned out, I don’t need to rehash all of that. Suffice it to say that the Trump Musk machine got the better of us all.

Like so many of you, I’m not ashamed to say I had a rough Wednesday. The tears for sure, and the fear, and whatnot. I can’t say I felt like doing a whole heck of a lot more than wallowing in the misery, at least for a while, because, well, it was miserable. Aw heck, we all thought we had it, and darned if we didn’t. 

You see, above all I felt so spent, so dejected. None of it mattered, you see. The drama ahead of the DNC where Harris brought old Tim Walz on and electrified and unified the Democratic party. Harris showing up that old man Trump in the debate of course…and…All of the energy and excitement and that weirdo Vance trying to order that donut and all of that. And all the while old man Trump, well…he didn’t seem like he was doing so great, I suppose. I mean, who starts rambling about Arnold Palm…oh sorry, Madam President, I’ll not continue that, I think you all get the message.

But yeah, there were so many signs that made it look like maybe it did matter, that we were going to pull it off and win. But we didn’t, and it was clear that no matter what we did, it was just too long of a shot. None of it mattered. None of it mattered. None of it…

And I mean, of course it didn’t matter. So much of the media environment these days is controlled by billionaires bankrolling this podcaster and that media company, without any real care about if the Cranky Caller is profitable or not. Young men turned hard for the Trump Musk machine because they are surrounded by alt-right hooey 24/7. It’s about as easy to get our message through to the people who don’t follow politics as closely as you and I as it was for the little Boy Scouts Rangers paper to stand up against the Taylor machine in the movie. I don’t think Fox News, or or that thumb looking fella from Newsradio was running Democratic tik-tokkers off the road as in the movie, but it all had the same effect.

And I know you are about to ask me what about the mainstream media. Well, they sure seemed much more interested in whether or not a tired old man was fit for office when it was Joe Biden than when it was Donald Trump. Think about that for a second. Although I reckon it doesn’t really matter at this point, does it? The deed is done, the die is cast, you see?

It didn’t matter…Oh, so I was feeling bereft. As bereft as our old pal Jefferson Smith (Jimmy Stewart) felt when that dang Senator Paine (Claude Rains) brought in those baskets of Taylor machine generated telegrams in favor of expelling old Jeff. It’s some fine acting by Jimmy, just showing his desperation for some sign, any sign, that the machine wasn’t about to kick him to the floor. None was to be found. He was going to lose, even though he made the better case, had the better ideals. None of it mattered.

Now of course, he wasn’t licked yet, was he? No he was not. Here he raises his head to the gallery, and sees Clarissa Saunders (Jean Arthur) the woman who helped him make his filibuster in the first place, the woman he had grown to love, telling him she loves him back. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for him to try to continue. But of course, he is exhausted by all of the work he had done, and how it just doesn’t seem to be enough, and whether he wanted to or not, his body gave up for him. Fortunately for our heroes, Paine feels guilty about ruining Smith’s life, the graft he was involved in with Taylor, and betraying his principles he shared with Smith’s deceased father. The day is saved, because thankfully the opponent had a conscience.

Heh, I don’t think old man Trump is going to grow that conscience any time soon, is he?

Okay, okay, we had a good laugh there, but it’s true. Fighting this fight we’ve got ahead of us isn’t going to be won by shaming the enemy to relent. It was clear long ago that any shame remaining in the Republican party is dead and buried. There’s no eleventh hour miracle coming to help us, or at least one we can plan on.

No, we gotta stand together. We’re going to take a few licks from time to time, and they are going to be hard licks, I’m afraid. We’re not going to win all of the time, or even most of the time. We’ll lose some of our compatriots, and will see folks we thought were allies turn against us and kiss the heel of the petty tyrant. We may be outnumbered and on the run, but we’ll never be alone. Because being alone is what the Trump Musk machine, the grim bosses and the zealots and the grifters want us to believe is the truth. We are stronger together. I mean, heck, its in our dang national motto!

Oh yeah…America. I can’t rightly say I’m feeling all that connected to America right now. Not the people, and not the country. It hurts to bet on the American people to make the right choice, and to lose and lose badly. I, I’m surprised at how much faith I had left. I don’t know, maybe that makes me a bad leftist, having faith in the idea of America. It’s a country built upon white supremacy and genocide, and as much as we try to stumble forward and do better, we stumble right back, unwilling to look at the facts. It hurts to say that, and I don’t feel confident if there is a real future for the United States of America as anything other than a broken relic or something far darker.

Maybe it’s just too close to this past Tuesday to know for sure. Maybe there’s an America worth saving I don’t know. But regardless of where I come down on that in the future, I do have faith in the work, and in the people and communities who can come together to do that work. It’s a gentle faith in humanity, in cherishing kindness and looking out for each other, that really shines through in the film.

Jeff Smith’s politics aren’t gone into all that much. The movie doesn’t get specific, see? He’s from some state, and the parties are the majority party and the minority party. Sure, you can read between the lines a bit, given some of the signs the Taylor machine pulls out, or being aware of Capra’s politics. I don’t know what Capra or Stewart would think about all of this. Given they were Republicans, and Stewart’s support of Goldwater, Nixon, and his friend Ronald Reagan, all forefathers of Trumpism, I can’t say I really want to know. It’s hard not to shake that Jeff Smith was aimed square at the Democratic machines backing up a large part of the New Deal coalition.

But that doesn’t really matter 85 years on, does it? There’s a gentle kindness at the center of Smith, a fondness for looking out for those around you that I’ve only seen in the backers of one party recently. It’s as if millions of Americans have given up on simple good values like looking out for each other and just being kind, and instead look to the grinning strong man to punish those that are different and powerless, just because they’ve been told those folks are to blame for their troubles. That’s when the Trump Musk machine spends millions of dollars to attack trans people, immigrants, and other folks who are just trying to live their lives the best they know how. As one of those trans women they are  so fond of attacking, you’re darn right I take it personally!

It’s going to get a lot worse for the people the Trump Musk machine has decided are their enemies. How bad it could get I don’t know. I don’t know. My mind can reach deep into that area, and it's not all that helpful, I don’t think. I’m worried, for sure, maybe not at the moment for myself or my wife as for those stuck in states controlled by Republicans and those with fewer resources than us. I’m also worried that forces on the side who are supposed to be our allies are going to push hard for abandoning us, in some misguided bid that being hateful monsters, albeit to a lesser degree than the Republicans, will magically solve the Democratic electoral woes.

The Democrats. What to do about them? I don’t have any answers. I get the feeling that we need to be better about having a vision for the future. Not just preserving the status quo with a few marginal fixes, but a whole story about what kind of society we want to build. It’s not something you can do overnight, and not at all something I can talk about right now. For one thing, I’d pass out from exhaustion. For another, I just don’t have any solid ideas. 

And that’s okay. Because it’s only been a few days since the election, not thinking you know how to fix it all is a good sign you’re aware of the situation. We aren’t going to solve it all at once, and certainly not by ourselves. I say this as much for myself as I say it to you all. Now is the time to take care of yourself, to do good things for those around you and those you love. To come into communion with friends and neighbors and those you can help and those you can have fun with. To spoil your pets and hug your kids and all of that good stuff. 

And of course, it’s okay to not feel okay. This all really sucks, and it hurts, and it's a-ok to sit with that for a while. Go on, do it! I know you were just waiting for my permission.

I have a friend Emily, Emily St James. Oh, you, you know her? Well, then you may know she has a newsletter of her own called Episodes. And wouldn’t you know it, she had a couple recent issues that really got to me. The first, from before the election, is about how in an uncertain world where the worst is on the table, the only certainty is hope. Now, the other one was a response to that horrible, miserable result on Tuesday. It's a good read, and gave me a whole lot of comfort in facing these days that must happen to us. There’s some Whitman poetry and a discussion on grief on what has been lost in this election and what we may lose in the act of survival. It's reflective and somber and realistic at what awaits us and how it will affect us all, for better or worse. But it's also tinged with hope, because gosh darn it, that's what we need right now.

So take all the time you need to grieve. I’m going to do the same. And then when we're ready, it's time to get to work. There’s nothing wrong with not knowing exactly what to do, or where to start. There’s a lot to do, and it takes many, many forms. I'd suggest looking for those who are already engaged in the work, as they will be best equipped to help you find where you can help. This won't be fixed by one bold, broad success, but by a million million small victories in neighborhoods from Maine to Missouri, California to Connecticut, Alaska to Nebraska and Everywhere in between. And maybe, with a little luck and a whole lot of effort and community, we may yet gain a new future. Different from the lost one, sure, but maybe still pretty darn good. And until it happens, and I can’t, can’t guarantee that it’s going to happen, or that we'll all make it, we’ll just keep moving forward. All the while being kind, and looking out for the others around us. Mourning our losses, celebrating our victories, and above all finding joy, even in these dark days.

Madame President, I yield the floor and thank everyone for listening to me carry on like this.