Ichabod's Kin
A place for politics, pop culture, and social issues

          Let’s talk about the budding presidential primaries. The Dems so far have 20+ candidates and counting, which is a good thing. The GOP had 17 three years ago and that was a good thing too—they found out who they were, and it wasn’t who they thought they were: they hadn’t a clue that by the end of it they would be all-in as the Party of Trump.

          Now it’s the Democrats’ turn and we don’t know who we are either. It’s a conversation desperately needed. They will talk and we will listen. A lot of assumptions have been made since the 2016 travesty, to wit, that we are all agreed who we are and, again, we are wrong as can be. Yes, we’re all agreed that Trump stinks up the body politic and needs to be exorcised, but disunity lurks beneath and waiting to be revealed before we come together again to defeat Trump.

          At times it may not be a pretty sight but a necessary one: in time we’ll know what we will and won’t put up with, and from it will come the necessary synthesis of agreement with which we’ll sail into the ocean of politics to divest it of the Great Orange Whale.

          This is what primaries should do, at necessary times. America is no longer what we used to be—children of a notable heritage descended from the Judeo-Christian tradition and nourished thereafter by respected rebels like the English and American poets, but reaching clear back to Socrates, Plato and Aristotle to World War, and through racial, anti-semitic and gender struggles.

          Well, forget about that. Of late we’ve lost our couth, innocence and civility. It began with the GOP primaries of three years ago: lest we forget, the first person to forge ahead was—Herman Cain, pizza king and knothead whose “Nine-Nine-Nine” domestic plan and “Beki-Beki-stan-stan” foreign policy jarred even GOP sensibilities, and that’s saying a lot.

          Next came Ben Carson, whose career as brain surgeon somehow made sense to Republicans as a grand segue to running a country. The two just cited fooled no one with a brain not in need of a scalpel: conservatives were seeking a “good, decent” black man who would say nasty things about Obama, and give cover to white people to follow suit with their own racist scorn.

          Others in the GOP Clown Car ranged from Ted Cruz to Jeb Bush, the biggest targets of Trump’s invective. But, as said, the GOP found the latter’s insults and indignities more pleasing, and reflective of them, than sanity and moderation. And here we are today.

          The Dem lineup overall is by far more reasonable, regardless of who you like or don’t like. Liz Warren had every right to run though many think she lacks public encouragement to do so this time around; no one asked Donald either, but he rode down a golden escalator with a trophy bride and at the bottom found the presidency. How ironic that he found it at the bottom, where it’s remained since his arrival.

           The clutch of Democrats with ambition is far better than the former clutter of Republicans, the banality of which made possible the likes of DJT. What’s not to like about Mayor Pete, unless you despise gays?—sure, he’s short on specifics but at least he’s  not a crackpot. Or Kamala Harris, save for the sins of being black and female? Bernie’s the man who would’ve been prez save for the bruising internecine politics of the 2016 moment. But even Trump likes him.

          Biden rightfully scares the Orange Man because Joe has his own grip on the states that elected Donald. And Seth Moulton will get his necessary name- and face-recognition in this run; he’s only 40 years old with a lifetime ahead to become Commander in Chief. As a war hero he has more guts than Gen. Bonespurs would have in a thousand reincarnations. And good for Seth for taking on Pelosi, yet another conversation Democrats had to have because there were whispers about her effectiveness and it gave her a chance to show her real chops as a party leade–and not a lick of harm came of it in the process.

          So let the games begin. We’ll soon know what American really is: lying, sarcastic and gun-totin’—or a return to respectability from its flirtation with idiocy.

          It’s a conversation worth having.