Impeachment Christmas

In these waning days of a disappointing decade, Republicans in and out of the impeachment hearings keep telling Democrats, with the usual air of righteous fervor, accessorized in this case with faux astonishment, hurt, and a sprinkle of down-home amiability, that the president and country have been “harassed for two years by an investigation that came to nothing.”

 Of course there are two problems with this claim, in any of its dozen variations. 

1) The Mueller investigation found PLENTY of wrongdoing, copiously expounding and documenting same in its labyrinthine four hundred-odd pages. That the exercise has come to nothing is not Mueller’s fault or even the Dems', but should be laid at the feet of a nonreading flibbertigibbet public — that “American People” so studiously lionized in theory by both sides. William (“Eeyore”) Barr’s shame proof spin management, with Trump’s hysterical arias in support, have left “the People” bored, conflicted, mildly puzzled, and quite determined to change the channel. But the truth was always there in the report and still is, quietly waiting for a better republic than this one to notice and do something. 

2) The investigation was not a partisan initiative, but an official action, instigated by Trump’s own appointee Rod Rosenstein, then headed by a lifelong Republican. Even if you swallow the camel of the premise that the investigation was harmful and somehow illegitimate, you should be blaming your bellyache on the Rs, not the Ds.

 It seems to me that I hear plenty of Dems voicing rebuttal #1, though with limited enthusiasm: for an elected politician there is, after all, no percentage in taking the public to task, even for flaws gross and obvious. But why do I hear no one making point # 2? It’s the simplest of observations and ought to be irrefutable, a slam dunk, a tourniquet on this particular vein of Republican blather. Why isn’t it happening? Someone help me out here.

 Meanwhile the alleged fiasco of the Mueller report, in having, you know, like, expected people to think and behave like grownups, has led to the current streamlined, supposedly more telegenic impeachment proceedings. Which turns out to be a whole other problem. Since the Senate’s Non Serviam is foreordained, I have mostly neglected the hearings, but on my look-ins and surf-throughs have had the impression that Republicans like Jim (“See No Evil”) Jordan and Matt ("Toasterhead”) Gaetz, flawless thespians both, were advancing a minimalist, reasonable-doubt defense of the president’s chicanery ably enough to warm the cold Mafia heart of Tom Hagen. And thus basically winning.

We are told of course that impeachment is not really a criminal proceeding. But it is not exactly not that, either, and its liminal state, midway between trial and campaign, leaves it vulnerable to sustained skepticism. The president’s attack team’s insistent cries for “due process,” their nonstop complaining about not being given evidence sufficient to an action this momentous — such evidence having been systematically withheld, of course, by the subpoena-scorning muckety-muck at the top — will, I gravely fear, resonate all too well with a public that, I may have hinted, is not exactly ravenous for nuance. “It’s a crime movie, right? Case has to be bullet-proof, or the bad guy gets off.”

 Well, it shouldn’t matter, because not impeaching, as Pelosi claims quite correctly IMO, stopped being a real option once the whistleblower weighed in. There comes a time to draw a line, stand on principle. If we let the Evil Clown mess with elections again, we already know the ending to 2020, so what’s to lose? This way, the Clown may still walk off with our stereos and all our jewelry (again!), but we at least had the satisfaction of shouting “Stop, thief!” And there is the chance that even a failed impeachment will brush him back from the plate a bit. 

 So I will count this holiday adventure a success if after acquittal we can fight the backlash to a draw in the court of public opinion, or at least a 40-60 split among that tiny sliver of persuadable Midwest voters that is now all that matters. Color me tickled if we round into the spring facing election prospects that look no more unfair than usual, darkened only by the enduring problems of too much money, rural overrepresentation, gerrymandered districts, voter suppression, too much money, weak turnout, apathy, the Electoral College, a stacked Supreme Court should the issue arrive there as in 2000, and did I mention too much money? 

 Ergo, what troubles me just now is not the certainty of Impeachment’s getting stuck fast in the Senate chimney with its sack of presents for the Republic. What sours my egg-nog is something else: a sudden, alarming outbreak of bad temper in our own ranks. Bad temper and bad politics. First, our classy, sassy, demure, legendarily smart and strategic Speaker, chief puppeteer of the hearings and all things House, Fate in heels and a gorgeous suit, gets trolled by a reporter asking, as Trumpists do every thirty seconds, whether she doesn’t just hate the president. She then proceeds to — just say it — but don’t dwell on it, it’s too depressing — melt down. She sputters, rants, and snarls out a barely coherent riff on love, no less, and prayer. Not a good look, when sweetness and light were the chief wares on offer. “Don’t mess with me, with words like that” is not quite ready for marble. Some of her most optimistic supporters score the encounter as a win just because it proves anger is part of her repertoire. But go play the tape, you’ll see what I mean. It’s guaranteed to look a little worse with each repetition, countless times from now till November.

 Then on the heels of that Joey Biden, genial Joe, the candidate everyone supposedly knows, gets caught flatfooted by a question that should have been spotted incoming since beyond the orbit of Pluto. What exactly was his son Hunter doing on the board of Burisma, renting the family name for a cool $50K a month, and what is old Joe’s responsibility, and why should the voters listen to him anymore when he talks about fighting corruption? This in language less than polite, admittedly, but from an 83 year-old Iowa farmer who by now has earned his gruffness permit just by staying on this side of the grass.

 So Joe trots out the careful, concise, disarming answer he and his advisors have by now so carefully worked out and rehearsed, right? He talks about working in an imperfect world, about how you don’t control your children but can never stop loving them, about what kinds of choices you can make to keep love from becoming an insidious lure toward corruption. Right?

No, just kidding. Instead he — just say it —melts down twice as badly as Pelosi. Calls the concerned Iowa voter “a damned liar,” challenges him to a push-up contest and  an IQ contest. Arguably fat-shames him. I’m really sorry if I’m the one who’s telling you this first. Men, you know: so touchy and hormone-driven.

Again, a few wishful souls have scored the train wreck a success, on the theory that any kind of alpha display, in this Age of Trump, rocks out. But damn it, better and more enlightened argument can be found in the cafeteria of any high school, any day of the week. 

 The persuadable few voters who matter, holders of the key, maddeningly conscientious and recalcitrant as they are,  holdouts on the jury, will not take this kind of malarkey from old Joe or anyone else. The question is honest and ineluctable and demands a solid answer. If this is really the best Biden can do — and it may already be too late for him to do better — then our real problem is to get him out of the race ASAP. His substitution of spleen for substance will gash us all along the waterline in such a way that we all stay onboard just long enough to sink with him. Later we will say we always knew that he rather than Warren was the candidate who could only win the primaries, never the general. 

 What has been floating Biden in the polls is his sheen of "electability," a vague general affection and respect, coupled with stolidly centrist, unexciting policies that excite no one but invite consensus. Take away the first element, and you have nothing left that will “inspire the base” and win a “turnout election.” So do we turn to Sanders and Warren, our most charismatic front-runners? 

Tough call. Far more than it did even two or three months ago, the economy seems poised to muddle through from now until November, continuing this remarkable recovery begun (let’s never forget) under George W and Obama. Warren’s numbers have sagged of late, two stop-Warren candidates have made desperate late entries to the race, Obama has weighed in with cautionary words about extremism, and John Kerry has endorsed Biden. The base seems to be in a melancholy morning-after mood, wondering whether it was just looking at Warren and Sanders through beer googles. Galvanize the base, or build a coalition at the center?  It’s always the question.

 So then, Bloomberg? You do what you have to, but campaigning for economic justice under a billionaire latecomer is a stretch. Carbon to Steyer. Having at least a dozen candidates who are infinitely preferable to the Orange One shouldn’t be a curse, but it is. Buttigieg, Booker? Both still very possible though dogged by persistent questions. But for my money, the best news of the season, my favorite stocking stuffer, is a slight but perceptible surge for Klobuchar, the center's favorite leftist and potentially the left's least-loathed centrist. Keep watching her; February will tell.