The Obama fund raiser called me just minutes after the one who works for Hillary Clinton. Could he visit me this evening? Sure – I had both of them show up at eight, figuring one would arrive enough in advance of the other that they wouldn’t meet on my lawn; and if they did, what would I care?
I’m an independent, but I do contribute to political candidates in various parties, including the Democrats. It’s absurdly early for the 2008 presidential race, but absurdity seems to have become the order of the day in American politics, and there’s apparently no going back. Alfred, the Obama representative, showed up first. I remembered him because he canvassed funds for John Dean’s campaign, to which I contributed, live and in person, not over the Internet.
“Nice to see you again, Alfred,” I greeted him, taking his coat and hat, “I notice that, once again, you’re starting out early, backing another charismatic candidate who styles himself as the voice of the people, about whom the regular voter knows practically nothing.” I pointed the way to my living room. “Is that the kind of candidate you figure will reward you handsomely when he’s elected president of the United States?”
Alfred laughed heartily at my question as I poured him some single barrel bourbon on the rocks. “Barack Obama has what it takes to lead this nation out of the wilderness, Tom. That’s all it takes to motivate me.”
“But a nice political appointment in early 2009 wouldn’t hurt, would it, Alfred old boy? An ambassadorial post, perhaps?” Alfred smiled again and pursed his lips to speak, but just then, the doorbell rang.
Alfred’s face fell when I lead Percival into the living room and poured him his own glass of single barrel bourbon on the rocks. Of course they knew each other, and neither was all that pleased to be in the same room with the other and a prospective mark – ah, make that “campaign contributor,” such as yours truly.
“Tom, I see you’re already entertaining one of Barack’s supporters,” Percival let fly as his initial salvo, “I assume this is a very unlikely coincidence, and not your idea of fodder for an amusing story to post in that new blog of yours.”
“As a matter of fact, Percy,” I shot back, “it most certainly is exactly my idea of an amusing story for my Web log, and you can bet every penny you collect between now and the November 2008 election everything said is going into my next entry, which I’ve scheduled for tomorrow.”
There was a pregnant pause, during which it was obvious that both Al and Percy were considering whether they should excuse themselves and forego my potential contribution to their chosen candidate. But I had them in a classic case of the Prisoner’s Dilemma. If one left, my Web log entry would record that fact and it would appear as if that one didn’t have the strength of their convictions, thus making their candidate look bad in Tom’s blog, which, they knew, a lot of influential people read. On the other hand, if they both left, then tomorrow I would tell the world that instead, making both candidates look bad in comparison to the dozen or so other Democrats who have either said they are interested or are in the process of intimating that they are. For the record, Alfred took a seat on the couch first, after which there was no way Percival was leaving me alone with him. I sat down next to Al and patted the soft black lamb’s leather on the other side. “Right here, Percy, sit, Percival, sit. The three of us can talk about who the next president should be, and, more importantly, why.” Percy drained his bourbon and poured another for Dutch courage, but complied nonetheless.
“Now before I write a check to anybody’s campaign,” I began, “please explain what your two organizations are doing, proving once again the old adage that when Democrats form a firing squad, they stand in a circle.”
“They’re playing dirty politics,” both of them said, glaring at one another.
“I don’t doubt that,” I said. “Politics is a dirty business. But shouldn’t you save that for the Republicans?”
“We need to get warmed up,” Al replied, looking first at me and then at Percy, “don’t we?”
“So,” I enquired, “here you had that South Carolina state senator Ford, who criticized Obama’s bid by appealing to racism, and Obama shrugs it off with ‘he’s entitled to his opinion,’ but you guys criticize Hillary for not denouncing Ford.”
“No, we did not,” Al replied emphatically.
“They did so,” Percy interjected angrily, “and then they tried to imply that Hillary agrees with that guy Ford and thinks America isn’t ready for a black president, and that even if it is, she thinks Obama isn’t black enough to be a black president. They even went so far as to demand Hillary apologize for not denouncing State Senator Ford.”
“We never demanded that Hillary apologize to Barack for remarks made by another person,” Al said, so excited that he gulped down an ice cube and had to spit it back into his glass, “that whole story about the Obama campaign demanding an apology from the Clinton campaign for what State Senator Ford said is a complete distortion manufactured by the Clinton campaign, and, if anything, the Clinton campaign should apologize for that!”
“What?” Percy appeared truly astonished. “Didn’t the Obama campaign say, and I quote ‘It is also ironic that Senator Clinton lavished praise on Monday and is fully willing to accept today the support of South Carolina state Sen. Robert Ford, who said if Barack Obama were to win the nomination, he would drag down the rest of the Democratic Party because “he’s black.”’”
“His words speak for themselves,” Al sniffed superciliously, “the man’s obviously a racist.”
“The man,” Percy retorted slowly and with obvious pleasure at having Al nailed to the barn door, “happens to be black himself, Alfred. Didn’t State Senator Ford apologize for his remarks? Isn’t that enough?”
“It wasn’t enough for Bill Richardson,” Al replied smugly.
Percy leaned over me and got in Al’s face. “Bill Richardson’s campaign issued a statement because Richardson is so unknown, he has to attach himself to stories about the front runners just to get noticed! Your campaign’s finance director called the Clinton’s liars!”
“David Geffen is only a campaign contributor,” Al hissed at Percy.
“Is that so, Al,” I said, using a small pile of cocktail napkins to sponge up the portion of Percy’s drink he had spilled on my pants while leaning over me to give Alfred what-for.
“No, that’s not so – and that’s exactly the kind of half-truths and distortions you can expect from the Obama campaign, Tom,” Percy struck back, knowing he had a good point now – “Geffen may have only contributed twenty-three-hundred dollars, but he organized and hosted a fund raiser that raked in over one-point-three million for Obama. That’s why Hillary said that if Senator Obama is indeed sincere about his repeated claims to change the tone of our politics, he should immediately denounce those remarks Geffen made, remove Mr. Geffen from the Obama campaign and return Geffen’s money.”
“The Obama campaign has already returned Mr. Geffen’s contribution,” Al parried.
“And kept the rest of the one-point-three million dollars,” I asked, “less Geffen’s contribution?”
“Ah, sure, Tom,” Al replied sheepishly, “the other contributors didn’t say anything about the Clintons being liars.”
“Now who’s a liar, Al,” Percy broke in, “the Obama campaign never returned Geffen’s twenty-three-hundred dollars.”
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
Al took another swig of bourbon, becoming emboldened, “And none of the other contributors to the Obama campaign mentioned anything about Hillary being so ambitious that America doesn’t mean anything to her; nobody pointed out that becoming president is all she cares about;” Al took another swig, “nor did any of them say how she never did anything before being elected United States Senator from New York except hang around the White House, screw up health care reform and fail to screw her husband, who at least ran for president after establishing a credible political career in other offices first;” Al took another swig, “nor did any of them point out that she and her campaign staff are a bunch of Amazons – who probably have Percy’s family jewels in a Ball jar; that’s where she keeps Bill’s these days, I hear.”
“Oh yeah, wise guy?” Percy stood up and began to undo his belt. I quickly reached for a loop and pulled him back down on the couch, discretely pouring him another round of bourbon. “Tell me the truth, guys,” I continued, “are either of you really sure what Geffen’s current relationship to the Obama campaign is?”
They just sat there on the couch, glaring at each other. “Percy, isn’t it true that Geffen raised over eighteen million dollars for Bill Clinton?”
“Yeah,” Percy shook his head resignedly, “he did.”
“And Bill Clinton invited Geffen over to the White House to sleep in the Lincoln bedroom, didn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Percy said, “Bill Clinton did that.”
“So after all David Geffen did for the Clintons, isn’t it a bit mean spirited for Hillary’s campaign to demand an apology from somebody else Geffen has decided he likes better, just because Geffen said why he likes that other candidate better?”
“But it’s just sour grapes Geffen’s talking, Tom,” Percy pouted. “Geffen was just waiting to stick a knife in Hillary’s back because her husband pardoned Marc Rich but wouldn’t pardon Leonard Peltier.”
“Consider the two cases Percy,” I said, freshening my own drink for a change, “Marc Rich is a big-time financial commodities swindler who stole billions of dollars from widows and orphans and lived a life of obscene waste, ostentation and luxury with the proceeds while his victims starved; and Leonard Peltier is a Native American political activist who lived in abject poverty and was left no choice but to engage in armed struggle against centuries of exploitation, murder and theft committed by European invaders. There’s simply no comparison between them. Now, if Geffen had had a friend who was also a big-time swindler who stole billions from widows and orphans, but Bill Clinton wouldn’t pardon that fellow after Clinton pardoned Marc Rich, then Geffen would have a legitimate beef with the Clintons. You don’t really believe Geffen is that unreasonable, do you?”
“Oh,” Percy sighed, “I guess you’re right, Tom. Geffen probably isn’t motivated by any sense of revenge just because Bill Clinton pardoned a thieving fraud who stole billions from honest people and then let some Indian who got framed rot in jail. Geffen is a bigger man than that, I’m sure.”
“Of course he is, Percy,” I segued, “and anyway, doesn’t Geffen have a point when he says that it’s not a big thing for Hillary to admit she made a mistake when she voted for the Iraq war back in 2002? If she’s opposed to it now, wasn’t her earlier vote, by definition, a mistake? And doesn’t behavior like that, in addition to some of the things Al mentioned, make Hillary Clinton the easiest candidate for the Republicans to beat in 2008?”
“A day after Barack Obama went out and eschewed the politics of slash and burn,” Percy replied, “his campaign embraced the politics of trash. The Clinton organization wants to run a very positive campaign. We don’t want Democrats or supporters of Democrats to be engaging in the politics of personal destruction. The Democrats need to stay focused on what we’re going to do for America.”
“The Obama campaign firmly believes,” Al countered, “that the voters are more concerned about what Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton think about Iraq, health care and jobs issues than they are about a… tempest in a teapot like this.”
“That sounds good, Al,” Percy said, “but I notice that your candidate failed to attend the candidates’ forum in Carson City Nevada. If Obama is so anxious to tell us where he stands on the issues, why does he constantly avoid substantive encounters and concentrate on photo opportunities, town meetings, press conferences and speeches instead? Is he afraid to debate Hillary?”
Al squinted back at Percy, demanding “Was John Fitzgerald Kennedy afraid to debate Richard Milhous Nixon?”
Percy hit the ceiling. “How dare you compare Hillary Clinton to Richard Nixon?”
“Oh yeah,” Al came back, “Speaking of pardons, which is a valid subject when discussing Nixon, that’s for sure, I dread to think who Hillary might pardon if she were president. And she has a sense of entitlement to the office, just like Nixon did, too. She thinks this country is a monarchy, just like Bush does, and that she’s the righteous pretender to the throne. She’s got her nose out of joint over Geffen’s remarks because she figured she owns Hollywood and she resents Obama poaching on her territory. She and Bill are both crooks, like Nixon, too. Bill nearly got impeached. If she gets elected, he’ll be cruising the halls of the White House again, looking for the makings of another scandal. The Clintons are nothing but an expression of a collective death wish by the Democratic Party. It makes me sick, I tell you, to watch grown women behaving like teenagers at Shea Stadium when Hillary walks on stage with that zombie face of hers.”
“Gee, tell us how you really feel, Al,” I cajoled.
“Obama’s greener than Dean was,” Percy said, “and he’s going to follow the same trajectory, you mark my words, Alfred. He’s going to draw all this attention to himself – and the Democrats – then he’s going to self-destruct just like Dean did.”
“Tell me one thing – ” Al thundered, “just one thing that Hillary Clinton has done on her own to merit becoming president of the United States. Everything she has ever done has been on her husband’s coat tails. Besides, another Clinton presidency is virtually guaranteed to be a hotbed of scandals and investigations!”
“I’d be glad to tell you what Hillary did,” Percy thundered, “she got re-elected to the Senate on her own!”
“And Barack Obama is a genuine resident of the state he represents, Percy,” Al volleyed back, “unlike Ms. Carpetbagger Clinton! Her vote on Iraq sacrificed the oversight and war declaration powers granted Congress in the Constitution. Tom, I want you to think about this – could the entire flap about Geffen and the apology just be a strategy cooked up, Karl Rove style, to distract the voters from Hillary’s continued refusal to explain or apologize for her vote on the war?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Percy roared, “strictly paranoid lunacy worthy of the tinfoil hat crowd. How dare you suggest Hillary Clinton is campaigning like a Bush?”
“She’s a Bush in drag,” Al sneered, “she’s a ham-handed, paranoid, arrogant bully who figures all the money in the Democratic party should be used to support her and nobody else.”
“This – this kind of talk,” Percy pointed out, “from a supporter of a candidate pledged to avoid divisive politics and run a clean campaign!”
Al became livid. “Those are my opinions, not Senator Obama’s!”
Percy went ballistic. “Well, I demand that Senator Obama apologize for them!”
“You would!” Al poured himself another glass of bourbon, skipping the ice cubes. “You see, Tom? Hillary Clinton’s campaign obviously has a policy of demanding apology from Barack Obama whenever one of his supporters says something Hillary doesn’t like to hear. Geffen is right, Tom – she’s an incredibly polarizing figure and nobody is more ambitious!”
“Bill Clinton was a great president, and Hillary’s campaign is proud of his accomplishments,” Percy replied forcefully, “and we denounce the politics of personal destruction, so obviously on display here this evening!”
“Obama is inspirational, Tom,” Al countered “he’s a truly transforming candidate.”
“Hillary Clinton is as inspiring and transformational as any candidate, and more so than Barack Obama,” Percy parried.
“Gentlemen, please,” I broke in, “let’s look at the facts, as sparse as they may be at this early point – Senator Dodd has apologized for his 2002 vote for the war in Iraq; Dennis Kucinich wasn’t even fooled in the first place; John Edwards has apologized for his 2002 vote and proposed a substantial and detailed health care plan to boot. Meanwhile, Hillary won’t even admit she made a mistake and Barack hasn’t been a US senator long enough to even have a record on the Iraq war. Don’t those facts trump whether a candidate’s campaign proclaims them ‘transformational’ or ‘inspiring?’”
“Being transformational is extremely important, Tom,” Al explained, “it’s the difference between being told ‘vote for me and I will lower your taxes,’ which is the old transactional political paradigm, and being told ‘vote for me and I will improve your standard of living.’ That’s transformational, Tom.”
“Also, it’s clearly easier to determine whether your taxes go down,” I observed.
“Obama doesn’t just want to win, Tom,” Al pressed on, “he wants to transform this country.”
“Don’t believe him, Tom,” Percy interrupted, “when you look closely at Barack Obama, he just disappears. He’s all style and no substance. His only real attractions are that he has no voting record, so you don’t know where he differs from your world view, and he talks about being an alternative to the politics-as-usual system everybody hates. He’s the white knight – but just one stain on that angel outfit of his, and he’s history. Look at Bob Johnson, the head of Black Entertainment Television – he dropped Obama and backed Hillary. It’s a trend.”
“I don’t know what Jesse Jackson would say about that,” Al replied acidly.
“Well, I do, Alfred,” Percy snapped, “he’d say he’s the only major black leader in America who isn’t backing Hillary Clinton.”
“You people just keep on attacking him and do us a big favor, then, Percy,” Al sneered, “the Clinton campaign’s ruthlessness is the Obama campaign’s secret weapon!”
Since both Alfred and Percival were both standing at this point, I thought it the proper time to conclude our little political salon. “Excellent presentations on both sides, fellows,” I said, breaking out my checkbook, “I’m convinced that if either of your candidates go up against the Republican ticket, and possibly some other parties’ nominees, the Democrats will at the very least be well represented.”
Then I wrote both of them checks for $2,300 (which is the maximum, BTW, that current law allows a person to contribute to a presidential candidate in a given election, whether the contributor is you, me or Mr. Geffen – see that and many other presidential election fun facts at www.fec.gov – it’s the first place everybody’s campaign staff go to look for loopholes, so you might as well see it, too).
Then I showed them out. That should have been the end of it, but when I looked out the window, I saw Percy pull up behind Alfred and apparently say something provocative.
In a second, Alfred turned to confront Percy, and not long after that, took a poke at him. Then the two of them squared off for a protracted bare knuckle match, right there in my front yard, strewing campaign materials all about and spattering the snow pink with blood. Any of my dear readers who doubt that Hillary Clinton’s male supporters are macho men would have changed their minds if they watched how Percival smacked Alfred around; he clearly had the better of Al by the time the police arrived. I guess the neighbors must have called the cops; I certainly didn’t.
This morning, I did call the bank, though – to stop payment on both of those checks. After all, I can’t let it be thought that I approve of such behavior during a political campaign. Regardless of what Obama and Clinton may profess concerning positive and clean campaigning, I got a sneak preview of what the upcoming Democratic primaries are actually going to be like – the mess those two made of my front yard.