Are GOP Snowflakes Starting to Melt?

The GOP war on journalism is nothing new. Spiro Agnew launch a tirade against the nattering nabobs in 1971 in Des Moines, Iowa. Still, the party of Lincoln, in the age of Trump, is increasingly using journalists as a punching bag for political gain.

From Wikimedia Commons, official image.

We’ve seen lots of examples in recent days. There is the war between Mike Pompeo, the volatile and sensitive Secretary of State, who apparently can’t abide an uppity NPR reporter asking pretty tame and obvious questions.

He says that he has done that’s right He has defended everybody. But he won’t name a time when he actually defended former ambassador to Ukraine Marie Yovanovitch.

Over the weekend, after a testy interview with NPR’s Mary Louise Kelly, she says Pompeo called her into an unrecorded meeting to berate her. He doesn’t deny it, but claims it was an off-the-record conversation.

I honestly don’t believe Mike Pompeo. The NPR line and statements seem calmer and seem to express a willingness to verify—whereas Pompeo is part of an administration that has no credulity, where lies and a lack of accountability are the status quo. And Kelly seems to be clear in her description of the events—listen to the full interview (link at the top of this post) that preceded Pompeo’s outburst, followed by Kelly describing the second conversation.

An off-the-record interview requires a clear agreement between the journalist and the source—and given the context and timing of what happened, again, the NPR reporter appears to be the truth teller in this case. It is shameful that the State Department has followed up Pompeo’s toddlerish behavior by banning NPR from an official trip—banning a whole organization because you don’t like one interview is not OK.

From Marylouisekellybooks.com, image by Katarina Price.

And Pompeo going ballistic on Kelly is part of a common GOP strategy. Consider how Sen. Martha McSally, running in a tough election campaign, attacked a CNN reporter who was asking a reasonable question about whether the Senate should hear new evidence from

“You’re a liberal hack,” she said in passing, in an exchange videotaped and shared by one of her aides. I think she protests too much—and won’t answer the question. Anderson Cooper commentary on the event is shown below.

One of the many tragedies of the era of Trump is how far the Dear Leader has gone in trashing all norms of discourse. It’s not just that he speaks in expletive-laced tirades, or tweets from his dark, evil heart and not from his increasingly publicly dysfunctional brain—but he is also tapping in to a deep and long history of the Republican Party turning its back on the marketplace of ideas.

See the screenshot of a recent tweet from Todd Dorman, opinion page editor of The Gazette. The chair of the Iowa GOP is in the attack-the-hack pack. Increasingly, in recent election cycles, the Iowa GOP has followed it’s national Dear Leader in making the press the enemy for political convenience.

Well, I don’t think it’s any wonder why. If you can’t argue the facts, pound the table and shout loudly is a common and old debate tactic. Or claim bias and excuse yourself from the discourse.

Republicans, you’re embarrassing yourselves. Calling out bias if you think it’s there and have a basis for it? OK, that’s fair. Refusing to answer questions, or refusing meetings with editorial boards or throwing immature temper tantrums? Not OK and not fair. It's poorly done political theater at its worst.

Welcome to the new reality of the conservative snowflake, melting in the heat of rather lukewarm questions.

Well you know that they say about heat that you can’t stand. I hope voters help these Republican snowflakes get out of the kitchen of government.

Iowa is Just Full of Sweethearts

New York Times image of candidates at CNN Des Moines debate, seen on Star Tribune web site, www.starttribune.com. By Jordan Gale, NYT.

CNN image of candidates, from CNN.com.

Drake University Image. My wife likes this sweetheart, Anderson Cooper.

Sarah Rosales sings National Anthem. CNN image (above) image posted on Facebook by Sarah Rosales (below).

Gratuitous product placement image for my youngest sister--Drake symbol at site of debate, Drake University image. I posted it because I'm such a sweetheart.

Did you catch the Iowa CNN debate this week? I was busily grading papers with the TV on in the background on Tuesday night, so I half did. I hope my grade comments to students still made some sense.

Part of my reaction to this week’s media circus in Des Moines is that Iowa is just full of sweethearts.

I thought my current candidate sweetheart, Sen. Amy Klobuchar-Minnesota, did fairly well. They couldn’t get her to shut up, which is a trait that I’m OK with. You tell them, Amy.

Drake University image posted on flickr (above). CNN images from Tuesday of Amy crowd (below).

Iowa’s other sweetheart, our own Gazette columnist Lyz Lenz, was on the Daily Show that night, and she did well, too. She’s right—1972 paperwork caused the Democrats to have an early caucus, which gave Sen. George McGovern a minor boost.

But the real start of the show was in the next election cycle when both Iowa parties then agreed to go early in 1976. Tired of the Iowa Caucuses? Blame George McGovern, but mostly blame Jimmy Carter.

Side note: I know he’s really old, and I don’t agree with everything he’s said and done, and he’s also a man—but you’re a sweetheart and we miss you, Jimmy Carter. I know, he’s still kicking, but he’s almost as old as Bernie Sanders (not a sweetheart, but a fun guy). Hell, I even sometimes miss Georgie senior and junior. You guys were all sweethearts compared to The Don. I mean, at least in comparison.

Sarah Rosales-Des Moines Regiser.

Then there was Sarah Rosales, a Drake University student who belted out the National Anthem Tuesday night. What a sweetheart voice.

I wasn’t sure Elizabeth Warren was such a sweetheart Tuesday night. I was a bit miffed at the sideshow with Bernie—not because it would have been OK had he said a woman could not win, but because Elizabeth has been sometimes stuck for too long in side issues before that don’t go anywhere. DNA, anyone?

Anyway, the cast for this particular play was smaller, which maybe made it a bit duller. I hate to say I missed Marianne—because she was definitely not a sweetheart, she scared me—and I’m OK that Tulsi wasn’t there (not a sweetheart, either). But whenever Marianne talked, I felt like I was guilty of something, and I don’t even know what.

She and Tulsi did make a show livelier. Most of all, it's too bad Julian and Kamela are gone, they could speak and spice things up. Cory, I hardly knew you, but I miss you too.

Anyway, sexism is alive and well in American media. And on blogs. It’s probably not OK for a man to call a bunch of women he does not know personally “sweetheart.” That’s a pretty personal name, and I really only have one sweetheart. And I don’t mean Tessa Violet or even those British sweethearts in Big Moon who are my current musical fixations (along with Sarah, of course)—Audrey, you’re my one and only sweetie.

Lyz issues a reminder on Twitter. Apologies.

So, apologies to all. Iowa is full of sweethearts, but they aren’t all my sweethearts.

At least I’ll caucus for one. Here’s looking at you, Amy. And I will continue to enjoy reading another. Keep on typing, Lyz.

And I’ll try to keep my heart pure. And sweet.

 And now, some sweetheart music:

This Film Not a Little Movie

Emma Watson as Meg March; Saoirse Ronan as Jo March; Florence Pugh as Amy March; and Eliza Scanlen as Beth March. Image from movie web site: www.littlewomen.movie, as are other images.

OK, it’s not an original play on words—the New York Times reviewer A.O. Scott, who loved it, used the same turn of phrase. But it works.

“Little Women” is a giant movie. I saw 98 percent of it (I was stuck in a long popcorn line for the first 2 minutes) Tuesday, and it was a great way to end the year. It’s also good in order to practice learning to type new words like “Saoirse Ronan.”

Count me, I guess as a serious Saoirse fan—I loved her in “Lady Bird,” and think she’s perfect as Josephine March, the main character of “Little Women.”

The March sisters.

And she was not alone. One of the joys of this movie is its ensemble cast. Anything that has both Meryl Streep and Laura Dern in it sounds like it could be pretty fantastic, and both shine in this film. At one point, Laura as the mother confesses to Jo that she is angry every day of her life—and we (even me, an old man) can viscerally feel why.

Sure, it’s a movie with a feminist sensibility. But it doesn’t bash men, instead it ruminates thoughtfully on what it means to be female—and not just how the “patriarchy” defines that term, but also how women view the concept. It’s Aunt March, after all, who advises Jo that “nobody makes their own way” and she should devote herself to marrying well.

Aunt March wasn’t wrong, in an important way. No man makes his own way, either—all people depend on each other, to some extent, but women in the 19th century faced particular issues, including marriage laws that made property a male domain. And yes, I know that although we have more advanced laws now, women still face many of the same enduring societal prejudices, which is part of what makes “Little Women” feel both contemporary and a historic drama.

More images from movie web site.

It’s also great to see young women being portrayed as people—having intelligence, moods, emotions, affections, hostilities, fights and reconciliations.

With the possible exception of Daddy March, who doesn’t do much but show up and stay placidly in the background, there are interesting male characters here, too. I spent part of the movie being slightly irritated at Chris Cooper—not because he doesn’t play the part of Mr. Laurence well—he, like most of the cast, seems to live the role. It’s that his voice was so familiar that I knew this actor without recognizing him in his 19th century whiskers.

Mr. Laurence gives the March girls Christmas food, and a piano for Beth, and we understand why and believe he would do it.

The movie has an interesting narrative form. Rather than follow a straight timeline, it moves back and forth, which helps connects early events to consequences later on. Yet, it was easy to follow—the plot was not all that convoluted. Lighting helps, of course, as later scenes are darker than the brighter scenes set earlier.

That narrative form totally worked. Frankly, all of the movie totally worked.

One sequence in the movie that I loved watching was seeing Jo March overlooking the printing of the first copies of her book—the setting of type, the pages on the press, cutting and trimming the parts of the books and gluing them to a red leather cover—for a media history teacher, it was a wonderful sequence.

And the writing itself was well represented, Jo wielding her fountain pen until her hand cramped and she had to switch to left-handed writing, laying out scenes and rearranging them. It is a reminder what a blessing modern word processing can be, although a shame we don’t always use our superior tools for such deft story telling. It’s also a reminder of the level of commitment and thought that any writing demands if it is to be done well.

I don’t know for sure if I’ll go see “Little Women” again in the theater, although if the opportunity came up and someone wanted to go, I would be so there for them. I’m sure later this year when it becomes available in DVD, I’ll be buying it and watching it over and over.

It’s that kind of movie. As Scott says, it was not a little movie at all. It was grand.