Saturday, August 23, 2003

Why I LOVE Ben Sargent's Work



Chief Justice Roy Moore is a graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy (finished 600-something out of a class of 800+) and returned to 'Bama after serving the minimum time in the service. He rose to a state court judgeship and installed a rosewood plaque (containing the 10 Commandments) in his courtroom. He ran for Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court as the 10 Commandments Judge. And this cynical use of Scripture brought the Protestant Rightists out of the woodwork to sweep him into office. If rosewood was good for a state courtroom, the Supreme Court of Alabama deserved GRANITE! Now, the Protestant Rightists are camped out at the Supreme Court building in Montgomery. All of the other justices on the Alabama Supreme Court have repudiated 10 Commandments Moore. The governor of Alabama has repudiated 10 Commandments Moore. Even the Neanderthal AG of Alabama (nominated by W for the federal bench) — Bill Pryor — has denounced 10 Commandments Moore. The only thing that mystifies me is why W nominated Bill Pryor for the federal bench. Hell, he's a constitutionalist! 10 Commandments Moore and W! If not a judgeship, how about Special Counsel to the President? If this be (fair & balanced) blasphemy & treason, make the most or it!

Dave Barry on W

Dave Barry is laugh-out-loud today. I loved his take on Texas. It's so subtle, a reader might miss it. States (like Texas?) with a bonehead for a governor ...pretend that the bonehead is competent and popular, thus causing him to be so impressed with himself that he resigns from the governorship and runs for president of the United States. Read Barry's "Living in a state of Disrepair (California)," August 23, 2003. Unfortunately, there is a time-lag in Barry's columns on the Web; usually sites are one week behind. Run, don't walk to a fishwrap carrying Dave Barry. If this be (fair & balanced) treason, make the most of it.



Dave Barry is a syndicated columnist for the Miami Herald.

Instant Recall

Of all of the reforms in the Progressive agenda, Recall has been used least. California has led the way in the use of the Initiative. Texas has none of this Progressive nonsense. Instead of the Initiative, Texas voters are asked to amend the Constitution of 1876. Thanks to our infinite wisdom, the Texas Constitution is the longest in the nation and is still growing. As of 2001 (77th Legislature), the Texas Legislature has passed a total of 584 amendments. Of these, 410 have been adopted and 174 have been defeated by Texas voters. Thus, the Texas Constitution has been amended 410 times since its adoption in 1876. That's how we do it in Texas. There will be a special election on Saturday, September 13, 2003, and Texas voters will be asked to vote on twenty-two amendments that range from allowing public university professors to be paid for service on water boards (a real burning issue) to allowing Texas wineries to sell wine directly to customers. Guess which one gets my YES vote? Buried in this mind-numbing list of 22 propositions, there is the ticking bomb: Letting the Legislature set maximum amounts for pain and suffering payments in law suits. Ah, TORT REFORM. Such awards would be capped at $75,000 (not stated in the proposition). Big bidness is for it. The Texas Medical Association is for it. The trial attorneys (Tort lawyers is the sneer from the bidness interests.) are frothing at the mouth. The wonderful state leadership is holding the election during football season in Texas. Will that produce a big turnout? Why not hold the election in November as is customary? Is there an attempt to sneak tort reform into the State Constitution? Nah! If this be (fair & balanced treason), make the most of it.



[x NYTimes]

August 23, 2003

Recalling the First Recall

By MERLIN E. NELSON

The only successful recall of a governor in the history of the United States occurred on Oct. 28, 1921, in North Dakota. If Gov. Gray Davis is recalled from office, California and North Dakota will share a special piece of American history. But the similarities will end there. While the California recall is driven, for better or worse, by partisan politics, the North Dakota recall was a revolt against a corrupt administration. At least that's what I learned from my father, Theodore G. Nelson, the man who led the effort.

In 1919, when my father organized the recall, North Dakota politics had become dominated by the Nonpartisan League, which achieved success by endorsing candidates of the established political parties. Initially the league appealed to farmers who were increasingly opposed to big business because of their bitter experiences with the railroads and banks that controlled the price of wheat and the cost of money.

When the league was formed in 1915 it was dedicated to the idea of state ownership — particularly of grain elevators and flour mills. The league's leader, A. C. Townley, was an ardent socialist who went on to form similar organizations in neighboring states. By 1916, the league-endorsed candidates had won overwhelming victories in races for state offices. By 1919, the league ran the state, controlling the governorship, the legislature and the Supreme Court.

But support for the league was not unanimous. The recently concluded Russian Revolution fanned fears of communism among many North Dakotans. There were also concerns that the league's efforts to nudge the state toward socialism were instead leading to corruption. The suspicions weren't unfounded. William Lemke, the attorney general, used a program intended to provide low-interest loans of not more than $5,000 to finance the construction of a grand $22,000 house for himself. In addition, the State Bank of North Dakota quickly became financially precarious as a result of mismanagement and political favoritism.

League opponents joined together to form the Independent Voters Association in 1918. That year, my father left his job with a Chicago-based organization that promoted the interests of wheat farmers, to become the association's secretary, though a more apt title would have been general organizer and campaign manager.

He then pressed the association to mount a recall of league-endorsed officials. His strategy was an all-inclusive, grass-roots approach built around the idea that the battle with the league had to be free of partisan politics. For this reason, he organized a joint finance committee composed of seven Republicans, seven Democrats and seven independents. A representative of the committee was appointed for each county to work with Republicans, Democrats and independents to raise the necessary funds for the recall campaign. The fight was with the Nonpartisan League and no other organization. Dad also encouraged the participation of newly enfranchised women by adding 21 women to the committee.

As campaign manager, Dad became known as "Two-Bit Nelson." This is probably because in his speeches around the state he asked audiences to put "two bits" into the hat so they could "throw the rascals out." Some have suggested that the nickname was the work of association officials who wanted to widen Dad's name recognition in the hope that he would run for the State Senate.

After more than two years of nonstop campaigning, Gov. Lynn Joseph Frazier, Attorney General Lemke and John Hagan, the three members of the powerful Industrial Commission (it ran all state-owned operations), were recalled and replaced by association candidates. According to "The North Dakota Political Tradition," edited by Thomas W. Howard, the most important factor in the association's success was the "organizational genius" of my father — and his determination to keep the campaign against a corrupt government above partisan politics.

The days and nights on the road took a toll on my dad. By the end of the campaign, he had contracted double pneumonia. He was forced to turn down offers to stay in North Dakota and run for office, and decided to go West to warmer weather. And so on Jan. 26, 1922, two association representatives asked Dad to accompany them down the street in Fargo to meet some people. When they turned into the sales room of the Overland-Doyle garage, Dad was greeted by a large group of friends standing around a Baby Overland touring car decked out with bunting and a card reading "Happy Birthday, Two-Bit Nelson."

Then Dad was given an envelope containing the title certificate, coupons for 1,000 gallons of gas and more than $200 in cash for camping equipment. My father packed up the family and pointed the car down the two-lane road to California.

Merlin E. Nelson is chairman of the Mizuho USA Foundation, which finances urbal renewal programs.

Copyright © 2003 The New York Times Company


First the Blackout, Now the Worm

My take on the Help Desk at Amarillo College is that it's the HelpNot Desk. It's always, I'll have to get back to you on that. Worms. Iraq. Blackouts. Ungodly heat. Baylor. Kobe. Maurice Clarett. California. W. Texas redistricting. Alabama's 10 Commandments monument. How many more plagues before it's lights out? If this be (fair & balanced) blashemy, make the most of it.



[x NYTimes]

August 23, 2003

Tapes From the Help Desk

By JOHN KENNEY

"If the e-mail message offers `details,' `That movie' or `Wicked screensaver,' don't open the attachment."

— The New York Times, Aug. 20, 2003, on the virus that spread across computer networks this week.


9:38 a.m.

Hi. Umm, hi. Yeah. This is Ingrid, from cost accounting. Well, my computer is . . . it's on fire. I opened this file, this, thing because I'm in cost accounting, which I think I said, and I need details. I'm detail-oriented. Did I say oriented or orientated? I'm sorry. I also opened the "That movie" one, too, because I like movies a lot. I live alone. Well, with Sashi, my cat. I watch movies. And I like screensavers, too. I'm really sorry. My computer is burning and . . . could someone call me, please? Also, do we still have to do our time sheets today?

10:02 a.m.

Hey. How ya doin'. Dan, in sales. Got a question. I heard about this virus thing and I was using the computer yesterday and today I have a sore throat. Should I be worried?

10:14 a.m.

Hello. This is Chip, the intern, I'm an intern, a summer intern. I work in municipal finance but that's just for the summer. I really want to get into asset management, I think that would be awesome, anyway. Like, I was wondering if like there was another blackout or a partial blackout or something because I swear I didn't touch anything only it's just, like, I saw "Wicked screensaver" and I thought, cool, so. Umm. . . . My parents are going to kill me.

10:42 a.m.

Yes, hello. Why do I have e-mail receipts from 956 students at the University of Wisconsin? This is Vivian in Mr. Hayden's office and I'd just like to make clear that at no time did I send an e-mail to the Pan-Hellenic Society at the University of Wisconsin about a toga party this Saturday night. My husband and I don't even live in Wisconsin, for heaven's sake, not to mention that we have plans for Saturday night with the Martinson's.

11:01 a.m.

This is Jim from the Detailed Movie Screensaver Department. We, umm, we got a huge problem down here.

11:17 a.m.

Hello. This is . . . excuse me. I'm on with them now — (loud crash) — Umm, I'm sorry . . . April, yes Chuck's . . . Chuck Smeterling's assistant. As in Chuck the president of the company. If you could come down here when you get a moment. . . . We're having a little trouble with the computer. No, that window does not open, Mr. Smeterl—

11:29 a.m.

Hi. Hi there. I hope you guys in tech support, who, frankly, I don't think get enough credit for all the good work you do, are having a good day. I just have a quick question about why my screen's black and playing "Sweet Child of Mine" over and over. My name's Herb Lugnutt, in H.R., but I'm no relation whatsoever to the Herb Lugnutt who sent that company-wide message about how the Help Desk is a bunch of slackers. No relation at all. And I thought his e-mail was really out of line.

1:45 p.m.

Hey. Hi there. It's Chuck, as in the president of the company. I opened this e-mail entitled "Thank you!" I like to be thanked. I'm not thanked enough, actually. Especially by you tech guys. With your long hair, out on your smoke breaks, laughing at your software jokes, wearing your stupid Black Sabbath T-shirts. See, my computer, it's broken. It's making these noises . . . and frozen on the screen is . . . is a picture of my head somehow pasted onto a little girl in a party dress. Now if someone doesn't get up here soon . . . .

3:00 p.m.

Ted. It's Jack. From the Help Desk. I sit next to you. Ya know how today is my last day? Well I just sent you this wicked screensaver. Open it.


John Kenney is an advertising copywriter.

Copyright © 2003 The New York Times Company