And The Winner Is…

The first polls have closed, the second tier is due to close momentarily, and the waiting is excruciating. I’m headed to some friends’ house to share the suspense. I know which way it should go, but I know the depth of the opposition’s desire to win at any cost. Voting problems now in Pennsylvania and Florida — and some voting machines in Ohio have failed. Were they the ones owned by the Romneys? We dont know, and we may not know soon.
A friend in Sweden tells me some of her American friends have vowed an exodus by canoe to her country if Romney wins. I told her that tomorrow I expected to either be rejoicing or shopping for a canoe. She promised the Swedish Coast Guard was very friendly and would welcome us. Talk about cold comfort.  If you’re watching the results, don’t do it alone. If our guy wins, you’ll want someone to celebrate with. If not, well, you might want to take along a six pack. All will be well. All will be well. Repeat. Repeat.

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The Wait is Almost Over

The wait is almost over, and our future is in the hands of fate. The candidates have spoken until they’re hoarse, their supporters have sweated and stumped and struggled to do all that’s possible to influence the outcome. The media have used up every last word of description, deception and dogged accuracy. We are at the brink. I am hopeful but not confident that the people will rise to the task of making a thoughtful and reasonable choice, and not fall prey to the lies and misinformation, I am hopeful but not confident that the dirty tricks will not work, and that the voting machines will. I am hopeful that my candidate will prevail and have the opportunity to do the rest of the very good and some less good that he has on his list. The winds seem to be in his favor.
But still I puzzle over our increasingly schizoid takes on reality — we on the left and the right and in the lonely and uncomfortable middle. For me, the break with what seemed others’ shared reality began in my college years. I remarked to someone on Facebook that I had had a brief romance with the ideas of Ayn Rand, the grand justification of total selfishness because We Really Are Better. Rich food for a 20-year-old who still knew everything. And then John Kennedy was murdered right in front of us. And I woke up to my shared humanity. I truly believe that the turmoil of the 60s began right there, not with the anti-war movement or all the other movements that started up at about the same time. It was that shift in vision that gave a good many of us just coming into our majority new eyes that produced a curiously jaded vision of the world. I remember Molly Ivins’ account of how such a radical Democrat as she had grown up in, and from, such a staunch southern conservative family. “I first learned that they were lying about race,” she said. “And then I learned they were lying about everything.”
So it was with me. Once I left home and college and went to make my fortune in California, I parted with my family’s world view because I had come into a different world. I learned that Catholics Could be trusted to think independently, that African-Americans Were fully human, that backwoods Ozarks hillbillies like me really Didn’t have a leg up on the rest of the world. That, in fact, we were remarkably uneducated and ill-informed.
Having spent now more than 35 years back in the fold, as it were, I find that nothing has changed all that much here. Some of that is pleasant, like the relaxed pace of life, the thoughtful approach to living life as you believe it should be lived, the prudence, the frugal nature of most of these people.
But what about the bumpkins? What about the folks so out of touch with any larger reality that they believe in black helicopters and United Nations plots to herd country residents into concentration camps (called, in a sinister voice, “apartments”) so the land can be given back to the critters. Really. And they fall for every scare that’s offered, and stumble into the local newspaper office begging for help because “They’re coming to take my land.” They have no idea that the boogeyman is actually the fear mongering misinformation toadies on Fox News and others, willing to tell any far-fetched lie so long as it helps describe the dangerous world out there, so vicious that you’d best keep your head down and we’ll tell you what you need to know. I spent the better part of 20 years, off and on, writing for The Quill and trying to be as clear and informed as I possibly could.I spent several more teaching beginning English, often as a second language, to Ozarks natives who mostly didn’t know that the language they spoke wasn’t quite English. They just thought the way they spoke, the “We seen him when he done it” stuff was because they were dumb. Well, they were, but not because of the language. The correct term is “cultural isolation.” And it’s isolation of a particular sort, because of past run-ins with the government, from moonshiners to marijuana growers to land grabbers in the national park system. They don’t trust government. And so any tale made up that pegs the government as the villain is red meat.
So they fall for the property rights snake oil pitches, custom manufactured by the lead mining industry. And the Tea Party hocus pocus, funded by the Koch Brothers. And the whole right wing religious blab, a true devil’s mix of charlatan end times hucksters and misogynist “promise keepers” who seem to believe a wife works better with a foot on her neck. It’s what god wants, they say. Those folks have a god in their hearts that I wouldn’t have in my house.
So here we are, at the brink, knowing that all those folks who are confused by made-up stories and fearful of the future are going to vote, and there may be more of them than there are of us. What can we do. Well, we can vote. And we can be hopeful. And we can educate those around us, though it’s a little late for that. And if there is a god at work in this race to win the future or to step off the path into the darkness, let us begin the work immediately to learn this lesson offered — that unlike the 1960s when we all just threw up our hands and went off into the country to grow a garden, we Are the garden as well as the gardeners, and we have many seeds to plant. It is not a time to falter, whatever the outcome. It is a time to invest the work of our hands and minds to bring growth, and light, and food for thought. It is time to grow intelligence. And understanding. And clarity. And consciousness, to feed a desperately hungry nation. Vote. And then get back to work.
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Dirty Tricks

Since Halloween has passed, the storm is waning and the election is the next scary event on the schedule, I thought it might be appropriate to have a look at the history of elections, voting, and the complaints, real and made up, that they engender. It’s a long, and thoroughly reprehensible tale, even when confined to just American politics. But here we go.

When the country was founded, in most states, only white men with sufficient property or other wealth were permitted to vote. Freed African-American men could vote in four states. But unpropertied white men, almost all women, and all other people of color were denied the vote. By the 1860s, laws had changed and most white men were allowed to vote, whether or not they owned property. But there they drew the line. To prevent other changes, things like literacy tests, poll taxes, history and grammar questions and even religious tests were used in some places, and so most white women, people of color, and Native Americans still could not vote.

In the beginning the constitution was not much help. It took the Voting Rights Act of 1965 along with several constitutional amendments to work out what kinds of things could– and couldn’t keep you from voting. The 14th amendment, added in 1868, said you could vote if you were a citizen born or naturalized and lived here. The 15th, added in 1870, said you couldn’t be excluded by “Race, color, or previous condition of servitude.” When women couldn’t be persuaded by torture, jail, beatings and some deaths to stop insisting on their right to vote, the 19th amendment was added in 1920 to say people could no longer be excluded “On account of sex” – Native Americans were added in 1924. It took until 1961 for residents of Washington, DC to be allowed to vote in presidential elections. The voting rights act of 1965 took further steps to protect the rights of minorities and the poor.

That’s the story of the law. But according to custom, in George Washington’s time it was considered acceptable to persuade voters by getting them drunk and “encouraging”  them to vote for your side.

Opponents also let it be known that Thomas Jefferson was someone with “atheistic” tendencies and a lover of the French revolution, in other words godless and bloodthirsty.

In the 1800 race between Jefferson and John Adams, the Connecticut Courant reported that if Jefferson won, “murder, rape, robbery, and incest will be openly taught and practiced.” Reportedly New Englanders hid their Bibles for fear that the infidel Jefferson would declare them illegal if elected. In 1828, supporters of John Quincy Adams called Andrew Jackson a murderer and a cannibal. They accused Mrs. Jackson of being a whore.

Politics became personal very fast. In the 1828 election, a Republican pamphlet said Democrat Andrew Jackson was “a gambler, a cock-fight, a slave trader and the husband of a really fat wife,” an insult for which he never forgave his opponents.

Other than name calling, the idea of planned political election tricks showed up in the presidential election of James Polk when an opponent released the  story that Polk’s slaves  had been branded with Polk’s initials and that he had sold slaves in order to raise campaign  cash. it wasn’t true.
Martin Van Buren was accused of wearing women’s corsets  — by Davy Crockett, and Abraham Lincoln was accused of having “stinky feet,” I searched but could find no historical records to verify or deny either.
After the Civil War, Southern Democrats used grandfather clauses, poll taxes and other legal  and illegal maneuvers involving the Ku Klux Klan) to keep blacks from getting to the polls.
They justified the disenfranchisement African-Americans “as a way to reform and purify the electoral process, to root out fraud and bribery.”  Sound familiar?

Both Presidents Garfield and Cleveland’s campaigns were plagued by the mysterious appearance of letters, later found to be forged, implicating them in nefarious practices. Garfield prevailed. Cleveland lost his reelection bid

But those things didn’t hold a candle to the kinds of hijinks that started in 1964 when President Lyndon Johnson faced off against Republican Senator Barry Goldwater. To defeat Goldwater, Johnson’s campaign specialists created a top-secret after-hours group known as the “anti-campaign” and “the five o’clock club.” Among the anti-Goldwater campaign tactics they employed was publishing a Goldwater joke book entitled You Can Die Laughing. They even created a children’s coloring book, in which kids could color pictures of Goldwater dressed in the robes of the Ku Klux Klan, while a CIA agent named E. Howard Hunt (remember him?) infiltrated Goldwater campaign headquarters, posed as a volunteer and purloined advance copies of Goldwater speeches and fed them to the White House.
Mayor Richard Daley Sr. is also widely credited with influencing Jack Kennedy’s  Presidential election by mobilizing an uncounted number of dead and non-existent Chicago residents to vote in that election
Perhaps the most famous of political tricksters in our time, and the funniest – was Dick Tuck. Tuck was a political consultant, writer and campaign strategist. He had worked on a number of democratic candidates over the years, among them Adlai Stevenson, John Kennedy and Robert Kennedy.
Among Tuck’s most famous anti-Nixon stunts was during one of Nixon’s California gubernatorial campaigns. During one campaign stop, Tuck arranged for the train Nixon was speaking from to leave the station while Nixon was still talking. Tuck denied the act, but admitted he “might have waved.”

After the first Kennedy-Nixon debate in 1960, Tuck hired an elderly woman who put on a Nixon button and embraced the candidate in front of TV cameras. She said, “Don’t worry, son! He beat you last night, but you’ll get him next time.”

And he kept at it.

In 1968, Tuck utilized Republican nominee Nixon’s campaign slogan against him; he hired a very pregnant African-American woman to wander around a Nixon rally in a predominantly white area, wearing a T-shirt that said, “Nixon’s the One!”

But Tuck wasn’t the only one. In 1972, voters received letters, “written on (Edmund) Muskie campaign stationery, stating (falsely) that Hubert Humphrey had been arrested for drunken driving in 1967.” Both lost to Richard Nixon.
In the 2000 Republican primary campaign, then-governor of Texas George W. Bush hired Warren Tompkins to ruin his opponent, John McCain. Tompkins and his team spread race-baiting rumours in South Carolina that McCain had secretly fathered a black lovechild (in fact his adopted Bangladeshi daughter Bridget). Bush also brought in Jeff Larson and his firm  to conduct robo-calls highlighting McCain’s “interracial child” and his wife Cindy’s addiction to prescription drugs.
At the time, McCain said of Larson and Tompkins that “there is a special place in hell for people like these.” He has since had a change of heart and hired Larson to run similar robo-calls against his 2008 presidential opponent, Barack Obama.
In the Bush-Gore contest, in addition to the botched recount. hundreds of thousands of African-Americans – who tend to vote Democrat – were wrongly purged from the electoral roll as felons, and accusations of legal strong-arming and conflicts of interests abounded. To this day, many Democrats believe that the election was stolen from Al Gore.

In addition to the Swift Boat Veterans (SBV) ads that attacked John Kerry’s military record with TV spots playing in key cities in the 2004 presidential campaign, actress Jane Fonda, disliked for her ’60s Vietnam War stance, Photoshopped into a 1971 photograph with John Kerry and the bogus picture circulated widely – and anonymously.

But as far as sheer humor goes, Dick Tuck has never been beaten.

Although he was never able to attain public office himself, he kept his humor intact. The one time he ran, he lost. And when asked for a comment about his loss he replied. “The people have spoken, the bastards.”

Not a bad line to keep around in case it’s needed after next Tuesday’s vote.

Note: Thes info in this post has been gleaned from several sources and not original material from Marideth Sisco.

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Hot New Album by Linda Stoffel

TOOT-TEE-DOO!! If I had a bugle I’d blow it to announce Juneapple’s brand new offering, set for release Nov. 1. It’s a sparkling and very hot new CD from Linda Stoffel of Blackberry Winter Band in her solo debut, appropriately titled “Songbird.” Talk about ear candy. Stoffel’s sweet soprano is at its best in this moving collection that ranges from torch to tasteful twang, and features some absolutely incendiary instrumentals by band mates Van Colbert, Dennis Crider, Tedi May and Bo Brown, along with splendid sweetening throughout by fiddle-mandolin-cello-bassist Dave Wilson and an inspired performance on a Janis Ian dark horse beauty by pianist Patty Goss. Truly a work of Americana art that should be in every roots fan’s library.

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We’re Back In The Studio

GLORIOSKY!! THE BAND is in the studio again, this time for a brand new album that includes six – count-em –  six new tunes by the songwriting team of Marideth Sisco and Robin Frederick. They’re the duo that brought you “These Ozarks Hills,” “Use it Up,”  “June Carter” and “City Kicks” featured on Blackberry Winter Band’s debut album. These new gems will be complemented by old ballads and story songs from yesteryear and some band favorites by other talented composers such as Robin Holcomb, LisaBeth Weber, Donna Henschell and Teresa Trull, all delivered in the band’s own inimitable style. Stay tuned. This one’s gonna knock your socks off.

-m

Linda Stoffel, Van Colbert, Marideth Sisco

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Two New Books

AHOY, YE SCALAWAGS!  I’m about to birth a book, actually two, but not twins. First to pop will be the radio show’s first five years of collected episodes. Appropriately titled, “These Ozarks Hills: The First Five Years” the book covers every essay on every topic for the first half-decade of the radio show’s existence, and will be available by Nov. 1 directly from me or through Amazon.
The second book, which should be out Nov. 10, is a collection of other essays I’ve penned over the years and a pair of short stories not published elsewhere. This book is available either as a standard paperback or as a special hand bound collector’s edition, and is titled “Close Enough to Home.” It’s a tasty read, if I do say so myself. It, too, can be had either directly from me or from Amazon. Stay tuned. The band goes into the studio next week, and there’s much more to come.
-m
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Weirdness

APOLOGIES TO ALL for the weirdness of internet service these past weeks. I hit my limit of patience this week and am switching to satellite. Of course to pay for it I’ll need to budget some other things. I’m thinking seriously of abandoning my smart phone for something dumber and cheaper. For one thing, being able to be reached by email when I’m away from home I find annoying rather than convenient. For another, I don’t enjoy games on a tiny screen. And all the apps are cute, but I don’t have the time or patience for any of them. So how smart is having this phone and paying extra for it, I ask you.
Just took another look at my Direct TV bill and realized I need to reconsider that as well. The only channels I watch anymore are USA and MSNBC for Rachel and the crew. Of course, I have to get another 118 channels to get those two, and pay through the nose for them. I could cut the bill in half by going to the family plan, but it doesn’t include either of the channels I want to watch.  So the hell with it. If anyone knows of an alternative where you only get – and only pay for – what you want to watch, let me know.
It doesn’t trouble me that I’m becoming more of an anti-establishment anarchist. It’s that I’m enjoying it so much. More to come, I dare to predict.
-m
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