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The drive between New Albany and Granville, Ohio used to take you down a two-lane country road, but traffic eventually got heavy enough to where they needed to make it a freeway. They did that about six or seven years ago. As far as freeways go it's fine. It cuts through the country and, though it'll likely change the area sometime in the near future, there hasn't been too much in the way of development along the route just yet. It's still a nice country drive. The barn where my wife keeps her horse is out that way so we're on that freeway a lot.
There is one thing on the road that sticks out, though:
This house sits just east of the exit for Route 310, right up against the freeway. It's looked like that since about the time the freeway went through. "O.D.O.T.," stands for Ohio Department of Transportation.
I've always assumed it had to do with some dispute arising out of the condemnation of property to build the freeway, but I've wondered what the specific story was for years. Today I did a little searching and found this, written by a man who says that he spoke to the owner a few years back:
The owner's side of the story was that ODOT used eminent domain compelling him to sell the portion of the property they needed for the freeway, but that they refused to purchase the entire property, including the part on which the house sat. His problem, though, wasn't that he was stuck with a house right next to a freeway. That would be bad enough, but at least understandable. Rather his problem was that the portion of the property they compelled him to sell included the leach field for the house's septic system and the remaining parcel that the house sat on was too small to install a new leach field that would meet local code. So he wasn't just left with a house next to a freeway, he was left with an uninhabitable house next to a freeway.
It's been a while since I practiced law, but the foggy parts of my memory related to these kinds of cases suggest that there is likely a bit more to this story. Local juries determine land value when there is dispute, and they almost always tend to overpay landowners who challenge state valuation in condemnation cases. In light of that, the state usually comes in with high offers to begin with. Maybe he was screwed on the parcel with the house, but I suspect he came out fine overall after they bought the parcel they needed for the freeway. There's plenty of injustice in this country, but rural landowners tend to do OK financially speaking when the bulldozers come to plow places like Licking County into the 21st century, even if they are inconvenienced or displaced.
Regardless of the specifics, I've always been struck by the "O.D.O.T. Sucks" house. While I suppose most people who see it think of it as nothing but an eyesore, I'm amused by it. Both at its existence and by the fact that it's lasted in the state it's in for so long.
Some quick searching shows that the deed was redone in 2007, with the current owner conveying the house to himself, likely in connection with whatever it was ODOT did with respect to their other land. For tax purposes, the house is only worth $800, with annual taxes on it running around $13, which the owner has faithfully paid. While the house is uninhabited, a quick search of property records shows that the owner of the house lives in similar but slightly larger home two miles away. It's neat, tidy and inviting. It's also close enough to the old house that it's no inconvenience at all for him to go put a fresh coat of paint on his "O.D.O.T. Sucks" sign whenever necessary. Which he clearly has, by the way. The house faces south and the sun would've bleached those orange letters pretty badly by now if he had let it be. Today, however, they're as vibrant as the day they first went up. My wife took that photo when we drove past yesterday afternoon.
I wonder who will blink first. The owner could, if he wanted to, simply abandon the basically worthless property. If O.D.O.T. grows weary of the sign, it could restart negotiations with the owner to see how much it would take to get him to either give up the land or, at the very least, bulldoze the house or cover the sign. The county could maybe get involved too, perhaps creatively reassessing the value of the property -- it's right next to an exit, so might it be rezoned for a gas station? -- raising the owner's tax rates to the point where he's no longer able to cheaply maintain his sign. Given that an influential new neighbor is moving in just a couple of miles up the freeway soon, maybe someone else will come to the table too.
In the meantime, I'll continue to drive by the "O.D.O.T. Sucks" house a few times a week, acknowledging that, yes, it's an eyesore, but smiling that it's still there. Not because I take the landowner's side, necessarily. I don't know him and I don't know the specifics of his beef. No, I smile because we live in a world where powerful forces always seem to win, conformity always seems to reign and anything old, small, unique or just plain weird seems to get plowed over, literally or figuratively.
The fact that someone on the wrong end of the plow's blade has basically held his middle finger up like this for close to a decade gives me hope that the powerful forces' victory, even if inevitable, won't always be easy.
I awoke to the news that my congressman, Pat Tiberi, is planning on resigning this week, less than halfway through his ninth term.
Since turning this site's attention from personal to more political matters early this year, I've spent considerable time criticizing him for his political cowardice, his lockstep association with Paul Ryan and the manner in which he's allowed himself to be a useful idiot for Donald Trump. If you hit the "politics" tab over to the right, you'll find no shortage of criticism of my soon-to-be former congressman. It's no secret that I am not a fan of his.
Normally at times like this, however, people will lower their rhetorical weapons and talk about the outgoing politician's good works and good qualities, giving his political obituary the same positive, soft-focus treatment one sees in actual obituaries. Indeed, in the coming days I expect there will be no shortage of "Pat was a decent man and tried to do the right thing," talk both from his political allies and political adversaries.
I have no interest in that.
Yes, from afar Pat Tiberi always seemed to be a nice and basically decent fellow and I can recall no scandals, political or otherwise, attaching to him. That, however, should be the most basic expectation of a public servant. Contrary to what the professional political class believes, one does not earn kudos for simply avoiding infamy or for not being a crook.
Politics is not -- or at least should not be -- about any one public official's personal values or qualities, his friendships or even his character. Politics is about one thing: using the democratic process to implement policies and provide the sort of governance which make life better for people. Politicians should be judged based on what they have done to advance the interests of the men, women and children they represent and to make our world a better place. They should also be judged, negatively, based on what they have done to harm those interests and to advance the agenda of those whose interests conflict with the betterment of society as a whole.
On that score, Pat Tiberi is a failure and should be remembered as a failure. He has taken millions from the health insurance industry, the financial sector, pharmaceutical companies and lobbyists and he has made it his mission to do their bidding. Time and time again he made it his top priority to advance the interests of the wealthy and powerful at the expense of the most vulnerable. He has steadfastly refused to make himself accessible to his constituents and he has largely gotten away with it because his district is one of the more heavily gerrymandered districts you're likely to come across.
Among the things Pat Tiberi never did, and what his successor must be committed to doing:
If Pat Tiberi's political career had even attempted to embody any of these values and ideals, I'd be sad at learning about his impending resignation. He has, unfortunately, sought to undermine these values and ideals, often aggressively so.
As such I am quite happy to see him go and eager to welcome anyone who will take his seat and use it to make America a better place.
I've spent a lot of time beating up on "Hillbilly Elegy" author J.D. Vance over the past year or so. My review of his book is here and some further stuff on him and his political writing is here and here, in case you've missed it. The short version of my beef with him: while his personal story may have been compelling enough for a decent memoir, he and others have attempted to use that personal story as disingenuous cover for an odious political agenda.
It's not a new political agenda, mind you. The gist of it involves blaming the poor and downtrodden for their misfortune, which has long been a talking point of the conservative establishment of which Vance, a Yale Law graduate who worked for a hedge fund in Silicon Valley for years, is quite firmly a part.
The twist is the use of Vance himself and his dubious hillbilly bonafides to provide absolution to anyone who would prefer to look away. "It's not your fault that poor people in flyover country are screwed," Vance has told both conservatives and liberals alike, "they've done it to themselves!" Upon being told that they all exhale in relief, content in the knowledge that they cannot do anything to help and thus cannot be criticized for turning away, their guilt assuaged because, hey, a hillbilly said it was OK for us not to care. It's almost genius, really.
As coastal elites have gotten off on Vance's guilt-free rural poverty porn, Vance himself has been plotting a political career. Now relocated to Columbus, Ohio, he strongly considered a run for the U.S. Senate in 2018. While he ultimately decided against that, he has surrounded himself with the sorts of advisors and donors, both in Columbus and nationally, who anoint political stars. He's writing Op-Ed pieces, spoken at political luncheons and has gone on the lecture circuit. It's the usual stuff a future candidate does.
Vance, however, claims that he has a particular problem for a Republican in middle America: he does not support Donald Trump and did not support him during the election. This "problem," of course, will increasingly be seen as a strength the longer Trump stays in office and the lower his popularity plunges. Vance, no idiot, knows this quite well and will likely continue to position himself as a Republican Party savior, seeking to take it back from the insane fringe that has taken it over in the past few years.
There's only one problem with that. He's buddying up to Steve Bannon, who is angling to get Vance installed as the next head of the conservative think tank, The Heritage Foundation:
J.D. Vance, the best-selling author of “Hillbilly Elegy,” a memoir about his upbringing in Appalachia, was also floated early in the process as a possible high-profile, younger recruit. He has met in recent months with Stephen K. Bannon, Trump’s former chief strategist who has returned to his post running Breitbart News, and Bannon has privately expressed a desire to see an ally installed at Heritage.
You can endeavor to heal the nation of its Trumpist fever, or you can work with the leader of the alt-right agenda who parted with Trump because he wasn't extreme enough. Likewise you can work to elevate the voices of the overlooked people of poor middle America, as Vance has claimed over and over again that he desires to do, or you can fall in with Bannon, who has worked tirelessly to exploit these people into backing his twisted, white nationalist delusions. You cannot do both.
What J.D. Vance decides to do in this regard is his own business. It's a wonderful time for all of the rest of us, however, to stop listening to Vance and to stop believing he's some fresh new voice of reason who can bridge the vast political, cultural and social divides in this country. Because once you start taking meetings with a guy who blows up bridges and brags about doing it, you've opted out of the "bringing us all together" business.
UPDATE: I have some other ideas on politics and bringing people together. It's a decidedly more inclusive view of the world than whatever it is Bannon and, by extension, Vance is interested in pursuing.
This morning the President of the United States, in response to an accurate news report that made him look bad, threatened the license of a national broadcast network:
It happens to be the broadcast network that employs me. I'd hope, however, that such a thing angers people who don't work for NBC. I mean, I get that he's mad, but the most powerful member of the United States government threatening the media because it criticized him is, if not the most un-American thing ever, certainly in the top-10.
I'm pretty sure if Obama had said this about Fox News in 2010 there would be talk of impeaching him. Short of that, it'd dominate the news cycle for several weeks and be cited in the rants of conservatives for years and years. Now, I presume, we'll just chalk it up to "Trump being Trump" and stagger on to the next unnecessary crisis he creates or legitimate crisis he neglects.
In the meantime, Trump can take my NBC WordPress login from my cold dead hands. Or whatever it is people say in such situations. Sorry, I'm new to this "living under a petulant dictator" thing. We all are.
The mass shooting in Las Vegas that left 59 people dead on Sunday night is, on one level, shocking and on another unsurprising.
It's shocking in its violence, its cold-blooded calculation and its scale. Shocking in a way that something so awful must always be shocking to anyone who values and cherishes human life. Shocking to all of us who have not become numb to gun violence. To those of us who cannot and will not allow ourselves to become numb to it, because to allow this increasingly common and increasingly deadly sort of tragedy to become just another news story which holds our attention for a few days before being forgotten is to abandon our very humanity.
This is all unsurprising, however, because our laws and, increasingly, our very values, practically ensure that events like those that unfolded in Las Vegas will occur again and again. I'll get to the laws shortly, but it's worth talking about the culture of guns in America for a moment.
There is, obviously, a long and rich history of gun ownership in America. We are a nation born of the fighting of armed civilians marshaled into a revolutionary army. We are a nation whose land was explored by hunters and frontiersman. We are a nation populated by farmers and sportsmen and the children and grandchildren of farmers and sportsmen, the vast majority of whom were and are responsible and law-abiding members of our community. Our history -- and the largely rural character of America for most of that history -- forged a culture in which owning firearms, while never a requirement of responsible citizenship, was most certainly compatible with it. Where I grew up, in Michigan and West Virginia, there was hardly a household that didn't have at least one hunting rifle in it. I'm sure a lot of you grew up in similar circumstances.
Recently, however -- very recently -- there has been a marked shift in what it means to be a gun owner in America and who it is that owns most of our guns. Some have referred to this as "extreme gun ownership," in which people own a dozen, two dozen or perhaps scores of guns, including quasi-military weapons and hundreds upon hundreds of rounds of ammunition. This dynamic, which has resulted in a full 50% of all guns in our country being owned by 3% of the population, is perfectly legal, of course.
But however legal it is for a person to stockpile weapons like this, it's worth scrutinizing why they do so. Yes, a small portion of these people are genuine collectors. I suspect a much larger proportion of these people, however, own numerous weapons for what amount to philosophical reasons. Many of these people -- and I know a good number of them personally and professionally -- are afraid of something, be it rational or irrational. A fear egged on by the gun lobby and a conservative media that has convinced a wide swath of Americans that there are enemies hiding around every corner and that our government is their greatest enemy of all. I further suspect that we will find out that the Las Vegas shooter, Stephen Paddock -- who likely owned all of his guns legally -- harbored fears like these. Fears which, even if they did not lead him to commit mass murder, inspired him to compile a private arsenal, which in turn allowed him to carry his rampage out far more readily.
We can legislate until our pens run dry, but we will not stop the next Stephen Paddock unless we truly understand how a person can come to live in a state of such suspicion and fear that they feel it necessary to stockpile private arsenals that have only one deadly purpose. Until we understand how a country that was once comprised of households with some hunting rifles became one in which owning a dozen or more military-inspired guns became a lifestyle choice. We must, as a nation, come to understand how something that was, until very recently, thought of as a tool, became a symbol of so many people's personal politics and identity.
Achieving such an understanding may not be a simple matter, but it may not be as tough as passing new gun laws, which are obviously not easy to implement or change.
Part of this is by design. While, as a lawyer, I disagree with the legal notion that the Second Amendment confers an absolutist, unquestionable and un-regulatable individual right rather than a collective right of action (the words "a well-regulated militia" seem to be the only words in the Constitution conservative judges seem to think mean nothing) the fact of the matter is that any broad-based effort to ban certain types of firearms or to broadly restrict gun ownership in this day and age would be met with intense political opposition and legal challenge. Likely successful legal challenge, mind you, thanks to the current makeup of the federal judiciary, its view of the Second Amendment and the deep pockets of the National Rifle Association which has the entire Republican Party under its control and much of the Democratic Party living in fear.
The fact, however, that wide-ranging gun regulations seem legally and/or politically impractical in the current environment does not mean that there is nothing that can and should be done. Indeed, there are a host of common-sense regulations that we can and should pursue that do not violate the Second Amendment as currently interpreted but which would go a long way toward reining in the scourge of gun violence plaguing our country.
One of these is obvious, if only in hindsight of the tragedy in Las Vegas: outlawing devices that allow semi-automatic guns, which are legal, to be transformed into automatic weapons, which have been illegal to manufacture for civilian use for over 30 years. This relates specifically to “bump stocks,” which are attachments that enable semiautomatic rifles to fire faster, mimicking the action of automatic weapons. Under no set of circumstances should a person be allowed to legally acquire devices which convert a legal weapon into one that is essentially identical to those which are illegal. Thankfully, there appears to be some movement this week on that very issue.
Beyond the currently newsworthy topic of bump stocks, we should work to pass laws or regulations, on the state or federal level, as appropriate, that fall, generally, into three categories:
None of these sorts of regulations would take guns away from law abiding citizens or infringe on the their rights under the Second Amendment. All of them would work to keep guns from falling into the hands of violent criminals and discourage those who would seek to inflict mass casualties.
Ultimately, though, there are many complex, historical and cultural factors which have led us to this regrettably violent place in our nation's history. As such, there is no one thing that can be done to drastically reduce gun violence in this country, let alone eliminate the threat of a mass shooting. Anyone who promises that they can put an end to such things is not being honest with you.
We can, however, do many things, each of them modest in and of themselves, that work to add a much-needed dose of common sense and responsibility to an issue which has, increasingly, led itself to intense, emotion-based polarization and special interest group-fed partisan rancor. We should start to do so, immediately.
In the past week President Trump, first through a spokesperson, and then personally, demanded that United States citizens lose their jobs because he does not agree with their political views.
We can disagree about the underlying issues which led to him saying this. We can debate the nature of protest and the mode and manner of expression of views with which he takes offense. We can discuss the propriety of sports figures wading into non-sports topics. No matter where you come down on any of that, however, we are left with the President of the United States saying people should lose their jobs because he does not agree with their political views.
No one, no matter their views about the protests or comments of athletes, should find this acceptable. Whether one holds far right or far left views, every last American should find it abhorrent that a government official, let alone the most powerful government official, is demanding people's jobs because he does not like what they believe.
This is not a controversial assertion. It is not a close issue. It is, perhaps, the most basic and fundamental issue there can be when it comes to our rights and our liberties as Americans under the Constitution. It is the entire goddamn point.
This afternoon Angela Ahrendts, Senior Vice President of Retail at Apple Inc., said of Apple stores, “we don’t call them stores anymore, we call then town squares, because they’re gathering places.”
Ahrendts' comment could simply be written off as hubristic marketing-speak, but to me it's an unwittingly sad comment about how, in the current age, a luxury goods story can and does serve as a rough proxy for a public square and how, concurrently, civic society continues to be degraded.
While a small number of very rich people have always been able to keep themselves separate and apart from the masses, a larger and larger number of people are using money, technology and education to insulate themselves from the sort of everyday life all citizens once lived. Elite status, VIP sections, priority lines, “Cadillac” healthcare plans, private schools and all manner of other luxuries available to the professional and technological classes create a situation in which a larger swath of the well-educated and at least moderately well-to-do have created what amounts to a separate class apart from the rest of the country. A class that carries with it insidious assumptions, conscious or otherwise, that the affluent and educated are demographically superior to the poor. Or, perhaps, that the affluent and educated are the only people who even exist.
While, admittedly, there has always been some semblance of a class system in this country, the instances in which people come together in commons spaces -- in train stations, post offices, hospitals, libraries, public schools, museums and retail spaces -- has decreased dramatically. What's more, there was once a time in this country where the class divisions we had were at denied and diminished out of either shame or idealism born of the notion that the United States is not a class-based society. Today that conceit has been disposed of almost entirely, with “success” being increasingly equated with one's ability to buy one’s way out of the public sphere altogether.
We live in isolated and increasingly homogenous and cloistered communities. We have made it so that those with access to the gifts of the technological age can do their shopping, their banking and their interaction with the government via electronic means without ever having to encounter the general public or, at the very least, the part of the general public unlike themselves. The increasing power of a small handful of technology companies is exacerbating this trend, turning even basic acts of life, such as buying groceries, into a class-based pursuit.
As a result of all of this, the public sphere of life has broken down in many important ways. We do not come together as a society across economic classes in anything approaching the way we did even as recently as the early 1980s, let alone the way we did in previous decades. This is bad for democracy and social health because, when we do not interact with the whole of society in meaningful ways, we are no longer truly stakeholders in the whole of society. We are, at best, voyeurs, intellectually lamenting that which has befallen our fellow man, yet not really being invested in it in any real sense. When you encounter those in different circumstances than yourself only virtually, you can simply click away. Or you can just choose not to click in the first place.
Which brings me back to Apple. The nearest Apple store to me is in a place called Easton Town Center. It's a mall, but one of those outdoor malls that apes a cityscape, built on what used to be farmland out by the freeway outerbelt. There are storefronts and parking meters and sidewalks and all of that, but it's all private property. While it's a fake city, it holds the sorts of community events -- Christmas caroling, arts fairs, outdoor performances and the like -- that once took place in my town's real public spaces. Except it's not truly a community event given that no one has much business being there unless one is shopping or dining out at one of the luxury goods stores on its premises, and that's obviously not for everyone. And, of course, since it's private property, they can kick out anyone they want to for basically any reason or for no reason whatsoever.
Which certainly puts Apple's claim that its stores, a great number of which are located in places like Easton, are "town squares" in a different light. A light that is sadly telling of what our society has come to in this day and age.
Happy Labor Day: America's most overlooked major holiday.
It's understandable why so many people view Labor Day as not much more than day off from work and an excuse to have a cookout. Generally speaking Labor Day is a reflective holiday, not a celebratory one, and if a holiday doesn't involve gifts, celebrations or specific, defined acts like putting flowers on a grave, people tend to have a hard time knowing what to do about it.
However it's also overlooked by political design. Indeed, the obliteration and demonization of the labor movement is one of the most successful political operations of the past 40 years.
The major components of this operation have been the wholesale scaling back of workers' rights, benefits and protections and the claiming of a greater and greater cut of revenues by ownership over the past several decades. Dealing with that remains the most pressing issue for workers going forward, obviously. It's worth noting, however, that obliterating the very history of the labor movement in the United States has been a key part of that as well.
Even most of those who stop for a moment to acknowledge Labor Day are likely unaware that its institution was something of a cynical, political act, taken by politicians and business owners in order to appease workers they had just murdered and brutalized. It was also established in September in order to separate it from the larger international workers' day of May 1. The holiday itself was something of an apology, but also a means of blunting the edge of the labor movement. Those who see workers as the enemy as opposed to a critical part of the American fabric are quite happy that most of us think of today as a day to fire up the grill and go to the pool as opposed to thinking about America's workers. They have made it a point to do that, in fact, and they have been wildly successful in doing so.
Not only does organized labor makes up a smaller portion of the workforce than it ever has, and not only do workers suffer worse conditions than they have in decades, but even pointing this out has come to be seen as somehow subversive. Even a great many of the people who do the working in this country have bought in to the notion — propagated by those who profit from labor — that unions are tools of the communists and giving any lip service to the rights of workers is a suspect and even un-American pursuit. Good, secure jobs with good pay and benefits have come to be seen as rare luxuries for which it is rude to ask, let alone expect. What's worse: many workers themselves have adopted the language of the rich and powerful in this regard, having been convinced that their need to hustle harder than they used to in order to make less in real dollars than they used to is somehow a good thing.
I'm not sure what to do about that, as it's a massive problem with many causes and calls for a host of actions in response to remedy it. But in the meantime, we should do whatever we can to at least commemorate and acknowledge a national holiday devoted to laborers in at least close to the same way in which we mothers on Mothers Day, fathers on Fathers Day, our loved ones on Valentine's Day, our veterans on Veterans Day and those who have died for our country on Memorial Day.
And make no mistake: workers have died for our country too. People die on the job every day and you likely cross a bridge, enter a building or drive on a road that was paid for, in part, by workers' lives every day. People have likewise died in the name of worker’s rights and in the name of keeping more people from dying on the job. Beyond all of that, labor built this country. The labor movement has saved lives that would have been lost and has elevated the standard of living of families. Odds are that, whether you accept it or not, labor and workers in your own family allowed you to get where you are now.
It's worth a day of remembrance, reverence and reflection, at the very least.
President Trump pardoned Joe Arpaio because he likes the cut of Arpaio's jib.
He pardoned him because he knows it'll play great with his base. He pardoned him because Arpaio was an early political supporter and because Trump rewards loyalty. He pardoned him because Arpaio provided Trump with a rough blueprint for demonizing Obama, immigrants and minorities as a means of achieving electoral victory. He pardoned him because he shares Arpaio's contempt for laws, courts and political and legal authority that belongs to anyone but himself.
Like anything else Trump does, it was done based on a gut feeling and a selfish desire. If there is any doubt about that, one need only look at the way Trump bypassed the customary pardon process which involves review by the Department of Justice. There was not a ton of thought and analysis put into this. It was a purely personal, purely political act.
In light of that, anyone trudging into the weeds to frame this as some complicated interplay between the branches of government, the nuances inherit in the separation of powers or any of that stuff is selling you a bill of goods. They're doing this either because they support Trump or because, even if they do not, they support people who would have to do something about Trump if the pardon comes to be seen broadly as the disgraceful act that it truly is. When you're a Republican -- even a #NeverTrump Republican -- the last thing you want is for the people you do support to have to spend any time or political capital opposing Trump, because that takes valuable time away from cutting taxes for the wealthy and hamstringing the government's ability to, you know, govern. It also makes them worry that they're committing religious heresy.
But really, it's a simple case. Arpaio and Trump share supporters and share enemies and at a time when Trump feels that he's under attack, he's going to do whatever he can to show strength, to prove he has allies and to rally whatever support he feels he can rally. And make no mistake, he'll rally a lot of people to his side with this pardon because he and his supporters will couch it in terms of "law and order" -- Arpaio was a sheriff after all! -- and people eat up appeals to law and order.
Unfortunately, the growing public conception of law and order is twisted and corrupt. Indeed, "Law and order" has quickly become synonymous with "police," and any effort to oversee and check the power of police is seen as hostile to "law and order." This includes civilian political authority and the courts, which politicians and, increasingly, the public, have chosen to portray as an impediment to law and order as opposed to a necessary component of it.
In this, such vocal support of "law and order" is in direct opposition to the rule of law, which requires checks on the power bestowed upon men, particularly the coercive power of government as manifested in armed police forces. It's a craving for the "order" without the "law." People want cops to "get the bad guys" but increasingly have no respect for the process by which "bad guys" are identified and handled and refuse to accept that the police themselves can ever be "bad guys." Such a view is anathema to a functioning civilian-led democracy. Indeed, it the very definition of authoritarianism.
Which brings us back to Donald Trump and Joe Arpaio. To the extent you approve of this pardon, you approve of a leader using his extraordinary power to vindicate his personal obsessions and to reward his allies. To the extent you believe Arpaio was deserving of this pardon, you do so because you believe that the power of police should be absolute and that the power of the courts to rein in that power is illegitimate. You, quite simply, approve of an authoritarian government.
We've been over this before. Nazis, white supremacists, white nationalists or whatever euphemistic name they care to give themselves, are the bad guys. There is no debating it. There are not two sides to the matter. They possess no redeeming quality. No matter how great their right to speak, they do not deserve to be heard because everything they have to say is vile. It is the duty of every American to stop this scum whenever it bubbles up.
We were once in unanimous agreement about that in this country. Your grandparents sure as hell knew it. If you disagree with that now -- if you want to claim there is an equivalence of any kind between Nazis, on the one hand, and people who oppose them on the other -- I don't care to know you and don't want to hear from you.
And you should probably examine why you think such stupid fucking things in the first place.
Last night at dinner, my kids -- who are always online and always see everything -- mentioned President Trump's irresponsible threats of nuclear war. They're bright kids who, I suspect, are about as well-informed as any other 12 and 13 year-olds, so they know the general outline.
I remember being pretty freaked out at the brinksmanship of the Cold War and, of course, "The Day After" scared the living bejesus out of me when I was around their age. So, despite their relative savviness and maturity, I was nonetheless cautious about how I talked about it, not wanting to upset them.
Then my son said, "I wonder what the last meme will be before the world blows up?" and he and my daughter began laughing their heads off about it. When I woke up this morning I saw that my daughter had sent me this, answering her brother's question.
If the planet does survive long enough for my kids to reach adulthood, it will be powered with disaffected irony. Not great, but I suppose there are worse things.
I first came across Scott McClanahan's work in his 2013 "non-fiction lite" book, "Crapalachia." McClanahan's writing -- at turns immediate, clear, funny, affecting, raw and, above all else, alive -- grabbed me and would not let go. His novel "Hill William" followed in the same year, building on "Crappalachia," doing everything it did well, but raising the emotional and dramatic stakes. Within the space of months I had a new favorite writer.
It wasn't just McClanahan's prose that grabbed me. I was drawn to him because he was writing about a place I knew well, southern West Virginia, where he was born and raised and still lives. I grew up in Beckley and I still consider it home, even if I haven't lived there for a long time. West Virginia was a character in these stories, every bit as alive as the people who inhabit them, and as such these books felt something like home to me.
All of which made me worry when, soon after I read "Crappalachia" and "Hill William," I learned that McClanahan was writing a book about the end of his first marriage.
When I read his last two books I was still recovering from my own divorce. Like McClanahan and his first wife, my ex and I were both from Beckley. It's a small place and there were bound to be parallels in our respective stories. When I heard about his divorce book I was going through a period in which, no matter how well I was doing for long stretches, I could still be derailed fairly easily by a triggering memory or suggestion. Three or four years ago a book on this subject, set in that place, by a writer with McClanhan's gifts, seemed like more than I'd ever be able to handle. In fact, a small, selfish part of me even hoped it would never see the light of day and that McClanahan would move on to another project.
The last couple of years have been much better to me. I finally sloughed off the last bits of baggage from my divorce and, rather than get bogged down by old memories, I learned how all of it -- the good and the bad -- fit in the context of my life. I learned how to enjoy and appreciate what my life is rather than worry about what it is not or what it could've been if things had gone differently. Most importantly I got married again to a wonderful woman who did more than anyone to help me through it all. My life is pretty fantastic now. A book about a big messy divorce set in the hills of West Virginia isn't going to destroy me like it might've a few years ago.
McClanahan's "The Sarah Book," was published earlier this month after a long gestation. I'll never know how I would've received it in 2013 or 2014, but I couldn't be happier to have it now. It's a fantastic book, as raw and immediate as his previous work -- I devoured it in two sittings which could've easily been one -- but it possesses a greater emotional depth than anything he's written before. McClanahan has been described by some as an enfant terrible of independent publishing, but "The Sarah Book" is a work of a man maturing and growing. A book that could only be written by someone who has seen some shit, lived through it and learned something from it all.
Which is not to say that this is a happy and pat story in any way. The (I suspect only slightly) fictionalized story of McClanahan's divorce is not at all comforting. It's, above all else, about loss. And death. Not merely the formal loss of a lover through legal process or the figurative death of love or a marriage but about actual loss and literal death and about how all of the stories we tell ourselves and all of the parts we play in this life -- as husband and wife, among other things -- are, ultimately, meaningless. Indeed, he begins the book with this notion, giving the reader no illusions in its opening passage that it's about anything else:
"There is only one thing I know about life. If you live long enough you start losing things. Things get stolen from you: First you lose your youth, and then your parents, and then you lose your friends, and finally you end up losing yourself."
Sarah is a nurse and McClanahan constantly returns to the stories she'd tell him about patients who'd come through Beckley's ARH hospital where she works. Dead or dying people whose lives, for the most part, do not adhere to the conventional life and death narratives we're used to hearing in polite fiction. Scott and Sarah have an elderly dog who dies, and his death is not pretty or poetic either. Any effort Scott and Sarah make to impose some sort of sense on the end of their marriage backfires as well. Scott thinks for a time that the marriage can be salvaged, not because there is anything inherently salvageable in it, but because, dammit, that's how the story was supposed to go and how dare Sarah fuck with the ending? But as "The Sarah Book" goes on, McClanahan impresses upon the reader that, no, that's not how things go. Everything dies eventually. People. Dogs. Marriages. No matter what your plans for them happened to be.
Despite it all, though, it's not a sad book. At least it wasn't to me, because McClanahan shows us that, even if death is inevitable and entropy is undefeated, there are moments of grace to be found in life. Or, at the very least, moments when we can sit and appreciate that life is less of a drama than it is a brief period when we all just try to do the best we can and, sometimes, actually manage it.
Sarah can find humor -- and does, often -- even when life is bringing her to tears. Their children can find happiness being held upside down by their grandfather, even when their dad is falling apart. Scott and his friend Chris can find moments of joy even when both of them are at their worst. The elderly dog can experience one last good healthy piss on the way to the vet's office before his undignified end. Scott and Sarah can each find love again, with other people, even when it seemed like their divorce was the end of the world.
The final scene of the book features Scott and his new wife sitting down for burgers and fries with Sarah and her new husband with Scott and Sarah's kids in tow. After all of the drama of the previous 200 pages, life is all about slightly awkward conversation, french fries, ketchup on a mother's fingers and a three-year-old boy looking up at the sky at airplanes. Is it anticlimax or is it a clear-eyed realization that, no matter what goes on inside our heads and our hearts life, in all of its quotidian detail, goes on? I suppose one can take it any number of ways. But having lived through much of what McClanahan did in "The Sarah Book," I was happy to see it. Drama and pain can only sustain a person for so long and, since death and loss is inevitable, it's better to push that stuff aside as best one can and do as much living in the short time we have as possible.
"The Sarah Book" does a masterful job of chronicling the pain and drama of a divorce, but there is hope in it as well. We need to endure the former but acknowledge the latter, even when it seems impossible. Thankfully, we have someone as talented and insightful as Scott McClanahan as our guide.
Some people who take in interest in genealogy discover that they are Irish when they thought they were Scottish. Others find a long-lost cousin. When I began looking at my family history I found out that my great-great grandmother murdered my great-great grandfather with an axe on a snowy winter's night in Detroit, Michigan in 1910.
Nellie Kniffen's violent rampage and her husband Frank's grisly demise was front page news in Detroit for several weeks, but she and her crime were soon forgotten, both by the public and by her family. Those who remembered it tried hard to forget it and those who came after knew nothing about it at all.
Through research of public records, personal interviews and a review of the sensationalistic newspaper stories written before Frank Kniffen's body grew cold, I unearthed a chapter which had been torn out of my family's history. And I began to better understand the ghosts and demons which have haunted my family for over a century.
The story of Nellie and Frank -- Nellie Kniffen Took An Axe -- is available as a Kindle eBook for $2.99.
Today every urbanite's favorite faux-hillbilly -- J.D. Vance -- writes an op-ed in the New York Times about the health care system entitled "A Republican Health Care Fix." I've written a lot of words about this guy over the past year, but as long as people keep giving him platforms on which to share his vacuity, I'll be here to point out just how vacuous it is.
His broad point is not terrible. He thinks the recently stalled GOP health care bill is bad policy and bad politics and something better is needed. Not an earth-shattering argument -- everyone who is not Donald Trump or a Republican member of Congress agrees -- but give him points for saying it.
Beyond that, Vance is attempting, in his own Vancian way, to make a more salient good point: that there should be some sort of baseline of care for people and that no one in need of health care should have the hospital's doors slammed in their face simply because they're poor. While that should, again, not be a very tough bogey to meet, in this day and age it somehow is, especially for conservatives, so give him some points for saying that too.
The problem here, however, is the exact same problem he displayed in "Hillbilly Elegy": he completely misdiagnoses the cause of a real problem and, in doing so, ensures that any solutions for which he or his supporters would advocate are doomed to failure.
Vance's view of the problem: it's the government's fault that there is a health care crisis in America. He argues this by offering a simple-minded analogy about a pedestrian being hit by a government vehicle in order to make a broad "you broke it, you bought it" argument:
This is where the Republican Party hits an ideological barrier that it simply must power through before meaningful reform can happen. Yes, solving problems can be expensive, and yes, that money always comes from taxpayers. But that’s true when a government truck plows into a pedestrian. You break it, you buy it, and the logic applies equally whether the broken thing is an individual or a complex marketplace.
"The government broke health care" position is simply not true. There have been multiple books written analyzing why our health care system is expensive and, in many ways, broken. The uniform conclusion: that while some unique factors drive our costs up compared to other countries (i.e. the United States' unique position in drug research and medical innovation) most of the costs baked into the system are a function of administrative and marketing overhead unique to a for-profit healthcare industry, passing costs on to consumers.
We have a system which incurs massive costs for advertising, branding and the need for hospitals and doctors offices to bill dozens if not hundreds of different insurance companies in dozens if not hundreds of different ways. We have a system that delivers care to different populations via different programs and administrative means based on age, geography, financial status, ethnic background, job status and a dozen other factors, and each of those systems has developed its own infrastructure, raising costs through massive complexity. On top of that a cut is taken for profit. In light of all of this, Vance's premise -- the government broke our healthcare system! -- is exactly backwards.
At this point some might be inclined to say "Hey, Vance is not an expert in this area. You acknowledge that he cares and that he means well, so cut him some slack. He's talking about important stuff!" Sorry, not gonna cut him slack. Partially because Vance has political aspirations now and should not be allowed to get away with broad, misleading generalizing about pressing policy matters of the day. Mostly, though, I won't cut him slack for the same reason I didn't cut him slack for "Hillbilly Elegy."
In my review of that now famous book I noted that, as here, Vance meant well. And that, as here, he was talking about a very real problem: the myriad crisis facing people in rural areas and the working class at large. But just as he does here, he misdiagnosed the cause of the problem. He argued that the crisis is attributable to a lack of character and work ethic by those suffering from it. That the white underclass from which he rose is struggling so mightily because it is not taking responsibility for its own decay. That their moral failures, as opposed to economic challenges, were to blame.
The arguments in "Hillbilly Elegy" were utter hogwash. Hogwash, it should be noted, that adheres pretty closely to the views of the Silicon Valley venture capital class and from which Vance more recently hails and which would pass muster with GOP political leaders who will, eventually, be asked to aid his political ambitions. But more importantly, it's hogwash that stands in the way of solving the very problems Vance claims to care about.
If one does not acknowledge the external forces working against the victims of the 21st century economy, one can never hope to solve them. If one blames the victims of that economy, one can easily wash one's hands of them. Indeed, the prevalent opinion of people I know who have read "Hillbilly Elegy" and who are not personally familiar with rust belt or Appalachian life is "Those poor people. Their problems seem impossible to solve!"
In this "Hillbilly Elegy" is a work of absolution. It reassures its readers -- mostly coastal and/or urban-dwelling elites -- that they and the system which has benefitted them is not to blame for what's happening in places like Ohio and Kentucky. In turn it gives them license to look away after they've gotten their 272 pages worth of rural poverty porn, content in the notion that they cannot do anything to help and thus cannot be criticized for turning away.
His take on the health care system is no different. He cares. He claims that he wants things to be better. But by blaming the government for the problem he necessarily encourages readers to get behind market-based solutions which are actually responsible for the problem. Yes, he allows that the government should play some role in that, but his "you broke it, you bought it" framing ensures that that role should be limited and exercised only out of shame and guilt. After all, if you break a wine decanter at Crate and Barrel, you don't get to make decisions about restocking and inventory. You cut a check and, preferably, get the hell out of the store, never to return.
It's not unheard of for a patient to get better after a doctor misdiagnoses her condition. But it's not common, especially if, like the current state of the U.S. health care system, the condition is serious, complex and requires a lot of hard work to cure. It's also the case that, once a doctor has made a spectacularly wrong diagnosis, one should not go back to him the next time one gets sick.
Yet platforms like the New York Times continue to turn to Dr. Vance, under the delusion that he has insight and solutions. This despite the fact that, when it comes to public policy, J.D. Vance has already proven himself to be a quack.
Daniel Drezner wrote a column in today's Washington Post about the foray of some "Silicon Valley thought leaders" into politics. The short version: Zynga’s Mark Pincus and LinkedIn’s Reid Hoffman have launched a platform aimed at rallying people into political causes outside of the current party structure, forming some sort of center-left, pro-business movement and basically "disrupting" political engagement. Or something, in the way that only Silicon Valley types talk about such things.
Many have been sharply critical of this and similar initiatives. Drezner is critical, but less so, noting that even though Pincus and Hoffman are bound to fail, we should nonetheless take them and other Silicon Valley types seriously when they wade into politics, saying that Democrats should keep "their neoliberal billionaires inside the tent."
My distaste for neoliberalism notwithstanding, I don't necessarily disagree with Drezner. I don't believe anyone should be kept outside the tent if it can be helped. If they advocate good policies and want to make the world a better place - of if they are open to discussion about making the world a better place and share at least some common ground -- I want them in that tent. That's the point of all of this, after all.
At the same time, I share some of the skepticism many have about tech giants wading into politics, mostly because of the frankly odd manner in which tech giants tend to wade and the manner in which the media and the public has tended to discuss such wading.
So let's put it all into perspective, shall we?
By accident of my age and some friendships I made years and years ago, I know a number of people who are either Silicon Valley denizens themselves or people who at least orbit that world. They used to be programmers or startup employees, now they're mid-to-upper management guys. Some have made a lot of money. Others haven't. Some are academics now. But they all speak that odd Silicon Valley language and, at times, share a bit of it with me. It's a strange world, but so too is any somewhat insular subculture with which one is unfamiliar. Like any other, there is jargon and custom and behavior that those of us on the outside don't quite understand.
The people in that world, however, aren't fundamentally different than those of us who are not. Contrary to how tech moguls are often described, they have needs, desires and opinions that are not of some other planet.
When the election hit last year, a lot of Silicon Valley types freaked out, just like a lot of the rest of us did, because it did not conform to expectations. Most of them never thought that Trump would win and, like a lot of us, they started to question the assumptions they harbored. Assumptions which they thought were safe. As I said, Silicon Valley culture can be insular and, of course, Silicon Valley sits in the Bay Area, which is far more politically homogenous than a lot of places. While I disagree with so much of what has been written about so-called "bubbles," I don't think it's unreasonable to say that many of the political assumptions held by Silicon Valley types were less-challenged and more strongly held than those held by some of us in the Midwest, making the freakout of the Silicon Valley types a bit more pronounced than our own.
There are a lot of transplants in Silicon Valley. My friends are from Ohio, many others are from other places. During the post-election freakout, a lot of them asked me or their friends back home, "WHAT HAPPENED TO OHIO?" or "WHAT HAPPENED TO MICHIGAN?" Soon those panicky questions turned to more thoughtful ones like "what can I do to help Ohio?" or "what can I do to help Michigan?"
Some -- like venture capitalist-turned-author J.D Vance or former Uber executive Brian McClendon -- have moved back to their home states and have vowed to take an active role in politics. Some, while staying in California, have vowed to funnel money back home to political causes or to otherwise become engaged in local politics from afar. Some are still trying to figure it out the answer to that question. Some only asked that question for a while and then got back to the business of Silicon Valley.
Others, like Pincus and Hoffman, are simply trying to apply what they know to the problem. To combine their life's work with politics, while bringing the jargon and weirdness of their particular subculture along for the ride. Thus you read articles about entrepreneurs wanting to "disrupt democracy" and about how "thought leaders" are going to bring bold new innovation to a tired industry, just like they did so many times before. Because most in the media don't have a super strong grip on either business or technology, the coverage, like all the coverage of these folks which has come before, is often comically credulous.
Here's the thing, though: you can't "disrupt" politics, let alone public policy. Not in any fundamental way. Politics and policy will always come down to one's values and ones goals and how clearly those values and goals are communicated to voters. Voters who have shown, time and time again, that they will respond to ideas and promises, not branding and cultural framing on its own. You can try to sell them "innovation" and "the future" all you'd like, but they will not get on board with you unless you tell them what you plan to do, in very basic terms, or what it is you stand for, in very plain terms. Voters do not do Silicon Valley cloudspeak.
In light of that, I've talked to my friends in Silicon Valley about what, exactly, Silicon Valley actually wants. What are its political values. They have some ideas. They're not crazy or disruptive or innovative, really. They're a lot of things many people support and some things only a few people support, but they're pretty conventional, politically speaking:
All of this adds up to Silicon Valley being just like and other industry, sector or collective of activists. It wants what's good for it, in its conception of the world. And those wants are all things that have been discussed over and over again by any number of parties, politicians and interest groups. It's not sui generis.
In light of that, the next time you hear about a tech billionaire getting into politics or a group of entrepreneurs putting together some killer app that purports to change the game forever, note their status, but just for a moment. Note their financial power, but not in any way you wouldn't note the financial power of a media mogul or an investment banker who enters the political fray. Then: ask them what it is, exactly, they stand for and ask them if they have a good idea about how to implement it or to convince a majority of people to get behind it. If they stand for good things and have good ideas, join them. If they don't, don't. As I have argued before, there is no magic bullet when it comes to this stuff.
What we should not be doing is what so many in the press have been doing lately, which is treating these guys as if they're magical unicorns with heretofore unprecedented ideas, with plans to disrupt democracy forever.
After weeks of secrecy and silence, Senate Republicans have finally revealed their version of the healthcare bill which will repeal the Affordable Care Act. You can read it here.
I'll save you some time, though: it slashes medicaid spending by billions, allows insurers to deny coverage to people with preexisting conditions, including women who are pregnant, will raise insurance premiums and deductibles and will result in tens of millions of people losing health insurance. It will also give a $33 billion tax cut to 400 of the richest households in the United States. Billionaires.
I'm sure there are already talking points being issued about why this law is so important and beneficial. Such arguments are transparently false and don't hold up under a microgram of scrutiny, but they'll make those who offer them feel better.
But irrespective of such talking points and irrespective of any one law or policy, a simple truth remains: if you're hellbent on making things better for super rich people and making them harder for poor people -- which this bill does unequivocally -- you're doing humanity wrong. And there's no talking point that changes that.
Today Donald Trump opened a meeting by having his cabinet members go around the table to praise him. As it unfolded, each official attempted to obsequiously outdo the last with flattery of their boss. This actually happened.
This, by the way, is the same way Shakespeare's "King Lear" opens. Instead of cabinet members, it's Lear asking his daughters to praise him in order to justify their inheritance.
In other news, "King Lear" chronicles the descent of a leader into madness and death, set on his course by an almost comical but ultimately tragic narcissism.
Today Donald Trump announced his intention to withdraw the United States from the Paris Agreement on Climate Change. This, quite obviously, makes the business of combatting climate change that much harder given that the world's largest economy is abdicating its responsibilities under the agreement.
Withdrawing from the Paris Agreement likewise damages America's stature as a world power. One hundred and ninety countries are committed to it, with only Syria and Nicaragua refusing to agree to it before today. Our joining those two countries in turning our backs on Paris is a declaration that America no longer leads and no longer wishes to lead when it comes to combatting the world's great problems.
All of that said, the business of combatting climate change will not stop. Nearly every other country on the planet is still committed to Paris, and the majority of U.S. based companies who have actual skin in the game of climate change are likewise committed to it. Indeed, in the minutes following Trump's announcement to withdraw from Paris today, numerous CEOs and entrepreneurs voiced their displeasure with the move and many more will do so in the near future.
They will do this because they know that climate change is the most pressing promise facing civilization today. They also know -- as I wrote recently -- that advanced energy technologies and industries are key to both our economic and environmental future, and that the advancement of these technologies and the work of these industries will not cease, even if Donald Trump turns his back on them and their importance.
So why has Trump done this? There are several reasons, separate and apart from the typical Republican desire to do the bidding of wealthy donors with interests in the fossil fuel industry.
Trump gained office by appealing to the fears and anxieties of people who have seen the 21st century economy pass them by and who pine for the days when coal mines, factories and refineries employed entire towns. Trump found it easier to make his supporters false promises of their return rather than articulate a vision in which new industries and a new economy may come to benefit them. By turning his back on Paris, he believes he is doing what these voters asked him to do.
Another reason, though, is basic isolationism. Today Trump seemed to criticize the Paris Agreement primarily because it is, quite simply, an international agreement. He talked about "America First" policies and struck many of the same chords that his advisor Steve Bannon and others in the alt-right movement have stuck with respect to the dangers of globalism. They want to build a figurative wall to keep out the international community in much the same way they want to build a real wall to keep out immigrants.
As I noted above, however, international actors and global corporations will nonetheless continue to work to combat climate change and will continue to work to grow the advanced energy sector with or without Trump's approval. As they do so, they'll necessarily be engaging with other U.S.-based businesses, state and local governments and U.S. citizens and workers. Anti-globalism may be a potent talking point on the campaign trail, but not even the president of the United States can cut the cross-border bonds which have been formed in our increasingly interconnected world.
Which brings us to this afternoon. A day on which, after Donald Trump's self-congratulatory words about withdrawing from the Paris Agreement, he listened as a military band played celebratory jazz music and Trump basked in the congratulations of his closest advisors, political allies and supporters.
As he enjoyed this day, I wonder if any of his anti-globalist supporters appreciated the irony of his handing multinational corporations and international actors even more power in the shaping of the future of the world than they had before he acted today.
In the past several years many have made a point -- a good point -- to gently remind people that Memorial Day is not the same thing as Veterans Day. To remind us that this day is not set aside to thank living military members or veterans for their service and it's certainly not a day for patriotic platitudes or displays to eclipse our commemoration of those who died in service to our country.
But while the "it's Memorial Day, not Veterans Day" correctives are worth acknowledging, I think there is something similar to how we tend to approach both holidays that is equally worth acknowledging.
Memorial Day is a holiday commemorating those who died in war. Indeed, it is rooted in literal visits to the graves of the fallen. Veterans Day, originally anyway, was a holiday intended to celebrate the ending of a war. While the former has informally morphed into something else and the latter was officially changed to encompass a different purpose, the fact remains that our nation, for whatever reason, has moved away from the notion that war is bad, that its byproducts are tragic and that its ending should be celebrated. It has, instead, filled those spaces with patriotism and, in some cases nationalism and militarism.
It says a lot about where we are as a country right now that we have pushed the bad parts of war out of our national consciousness and have wholly disposed with celebrating the endings of wars. Maybe it's because, these days, our wars do not end.
Whatever the case, I do not think that focusing and reflecting upon the tragedy of war and celebrating the ending of wars are bad things nor do they do a disservice to those who have fought and who have died. To the contrary, I can think of nothing that would honor and aid those men and women more.
Yesterday the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office released its report on the impact of the House Republican plan to repeal the Affordable Care Act and replace it with the AHCA. The bottom line: 23 million Americans will lose health care coverage, one million Ohioans among them.
The impact will be felt primarily by the most vulnerable members of society. Senior citizens. The poor. The sick. The very people who we, as a country, should be doing the most to help would be the ones harmed the most by this callous, cruel and immoral law.
What's more, the CBO report reminds us that it's not just those who are on Medicaid or who purchase insurance through ACA exchanges who will be harmed by this law. To the contrary, the CBO reports that insurance coverage for one-sixth of all Americans would “become unstable by 2020.”
This will occur because of the increased costs and pressure put on our health care system which will now be serving millions without being paid for it. This will occur because the AHCA gives states the right to drastically cut health care benefits to those with preexisting conditions and to drastically increase the number of conditions deemed "preexisting." This will occur because, under the AHCA, health insurance premiums will rise by 20 percent by 2018 and another five percent the following year. Again, all confirmed by the non-partisan CBO.
All of this so that Republicans can give a massive tax cut to the rich. All of this to please the insurance companies and drug companies which have donated millions to Republican campaigns. None of this to help Americans who have found themselves victimized by callous and uncaring health insurers, drug companies and medical expenses which have spiraled out of control due to gouging and profit-seeking by the very people supporting the AHCA.
Yesterday, my congressman, Pat Tiberi, called this "just the start." If this is how it starts, God help us all once he and his Republican colleagues in Congress really get going.
The AHCA will do violence to millions of Americans, preventing the sick from obtaining necessary medical treatment and forcing those who do manage to obtain treatment to risk bankruptcy and financial ruin.
Any lawmaker who supports it has abdicated their responsibility to their constituents and has shown themselves unfit for public service. They should be told this in no uncertain terms and they should be voted out of office at the earliest available opportunity.