Road to the Nomination - GOP

The GOP is even further over the map than the Dems. Will that prove them to be more salt of the earth? Can a cinderella candidate like Ouachita Baptist take on a traditional powerhouse like BYU? Altitude may prove to be a factor, as will homecourt advantage and the tiny confines of Wartburg College. With enough candidates to require a play-in round, this much is for sure - we're gonna have a battle on our hands! Let the wedge issue advocacy begin!























Again, let me know what you think about the format and the seedings. As Guy Noir might say, see you in St. Paul!

Road to the Nomination - Dems

One thing that I have noticed about this cycle's potential nominees is that they are not the usual incestuous family of Ivy Leaguers. In fact, there are quite a few obscure state schools in the mix, not to mention two NESCAC representatives. The next two 3Q posts will examine this phenomenon with a mock-up of the NCAA Final Four Tournament done in haste on a shitty MS Paint program. Let's start with the Dems! Click on the image below for a more in-depth look at your favorite politicians and their Alma maters!

Feel free to drop your analysis on seedings, etc. in the comments section.

Next up, the GOP!

Can't You Smell That Smell?

It was a far-flung weekend, full of tight schedules, multiple cities and a handful of excess. First and foremost I would like to congratulate a true Qrowned Prince of the Quabbin on his continued rise to greatness, this time on the indoor track. I was able to cool down with Owen, once again darting among unsuspecting pedestrians on Commonwealth Avenue, although this time with a pounding headache courtesy of a night spent alongside the Ace. For an old has-been it was like indoor track fantasy camp on that cooldown minus the trading card.

The best antedote for a frenetic Friday and Saturday, I figured, was a nice, long run down to the shores of the Quabbin. Given the relative lack of fitness under my belt during these past few months, it was the first time I was able to make it all the way down to the end of the Gate 8 Road. Unlike my sunkist front yard the gritty Quabbin path still had a majority of snow cover, even at a lower altitude. I trekked down the way, leaving evenly paced footprints behind as I ran alongside closed gates to my left and raced the flow of a snowy creek to my right. I was rewarded at 35:39 with a wide-open Reservoir in front of me. Serenity holds such a tight grip on the lake that the mere shuffling of my feet as I slowed to a stop scattered an entire flock of ducks, floating casually on the shore 100 yards away, off toward Prescott Peninsula. The trees came straight down to shoreline, the green of the needles becoming the brown of bark becoming the slate gray of rock and the cool blue of water.

O Quabbin, my Puget Sound away from home!

Back on the Presidential trail, where things aren't always as calm as they are in Quabbin Qountry, the wheels kept moving forward. Obama got some good press in the Times, while Hillary got some bad press in New York and Washington. Frank Rich, that old sailor, really takes Hilly to task on her Iraq turn, and rightly so.

"Mrs. Clinton has always been a follower of public opinion on the war, not a leader," Rich says, "Now events are outrunning her. Support for the war both in the polls and among Republicans in Congress is plummeting faster than she can recalibrate her rhetoric."

Broder, meanwhile, takes offense to her political speech at the recent Patraeus hearing in the Senate where Hillary asks but one question, followed by a four word response, to the new commander of US forces in Iraq. When both the liberal lion and the elder statesman, respectively, are mocking you this early on it can't be a good sign.

I have made it perfectly clear that here in Quabbin Qountry we seek genuineness, and that we are big fans of Mr. Rich's work. When he essentially calls the Hill Bus(c)h Lite for her scripted town hall meetings and softball questions, it hits hard. I bore witness to some of those scripted Bush rallies back in the Rockies and I am still recovering from the affront on my soul that was a bunch of blank-eyed supporters cheering at the appropriate money lines. It is true that now more than ever we need someone "for realz" in the oval office. Allow me to recount a story I heard recently, courtesy of future-star Oz Hazel:

"Back in the day there was a question about who the republicans wouldnominate for the presidency, Lincoln or Douglas. Lincoln knew that Douglas supported slavery and that he argued the Constitution required the states to continue to allow the trade of men. Lincoln, not having much experience or expertise, went to the library and studied the constitution and other texts for several days prior to the Republican convention. At theconvention he stood up and gave a TWO hour speech about why he believed thatthe framers did not intend slavery to continue forever. At the conclusionof his speech the delegates voted unanimously for Lincoln to be the nominee."

Would that it were that Iraq was as clear-cut an issue as slavery! Alas, what I truly fear is not that any one candidate can give a comprehensive and heart-felt speech on a given topic but whether or not the American public still has it in them, after all the spin and all the advertising dollars, to smell the smell of genuine. It is a beautiful smell, but elusive. Not like pine trees or apple pie, genuine drifts past one's nose like a mosquito escaping two clapped hands. Those who are impostrous are the hardest to pin down, and are usually fat with a stomach full of fresh blood. But what keeps us coming back to the Quabbin is the real scent, the real scene of peninsulas jutting down on to glassy water, and the stillness of the dusk air. Can we find it in 2008?

De Ranke XX,

BTB

Primary Paranoia, or, Caucus in Yer Face

It really got my blood boiling today when I heard that more states are looking to push their primaries and caucuses up into early February. If I may invoke the great "Weird" Al Yankovic, this would make the early campaign frenzy not just Bad, but Even Worse. My dread exists in part because I can't tell if my strong gut reaction is the right one. The arrogance shown by the likes of California, Illinois, New Jersey and Florida is sickening, as to be expected from such questionable states. Have you ever met anyone from Florida or California? If you have, they are probably the self-important type who would display such a me-first, party-be-damned attitude. The last thing we need is an ever greater focus on early fundraising to purchase precious advertising time in the LA, SF, CHI, MIA, ORL and Tri-States markets.

Then again, it might be interesting to see how candidates market themselves to such a diverse brew of electorates. What kind of remarkably two-faced son-of-a-bitch can simultaneously pitch immigration (SoCal/FL), high minimum wage (NorCal), heartland values (IL), and whatever New Jersey cares about while at the same time wearing plaid earmuffs and shoveling down hotcakes in the Upper Merrimack Valley? I worry that it would frontload the thing even more, although in the Times article Tad Devine argues that it could lead to a bitter showdown among multiple frontrunners, which is ideal. As we say up here on the Quabbin, the more backroom deals and delegate trading, the better!

Meanwhile, those four big states must be enviously muttering to themselves how it is a bunch of hogwash that some podunk whitebread state has so much sway in a diverse and metropolitan Democratic Party. To make matters worse, New Hampshire has a neighborly lean toward candidates from New England (Kerry in '04, Tsongas in '92, Dukakis in '88), which currently stands as the American Presidential wasteland. Welcome to nowheresville, Mr. Romney. We stopped making Presidents here in New England back in the 60's. But to Hell with it, now we just transcend them. On the one hand, some might think that New Hampshire is a good, moderate decision-making entity for a candidate with it's centrist roots, but if that is the goal then the Dems ought to go with Missouri, who last preferred the losing candidate in 1956 when Missourians wanted the rest of the country to "Show-Me" that affable old egghead Adlai Stevenson, one of only seven states to do so. Such begrudging respect for Missouri, emphasis on grudge.

So we must quote the late Tip O'Neill, former Massachusetts congressman, House Majority Leader and boss of Chris Matthews when we say "all politics is local." As a result, it stings to think that our beloved Granite State might lose some of it's political clout. That same Granite State that is synonymous with Primaries, where you can shake the future President's hand in a high school gym, eat hot dogs with a Senator on a hot August afternoon in downtown Manchester before grabbing a beer at Strange Brew, and see a big shot drive from Berlin all the way down to Keene in a single day to personally get out the vote. Most days these assholes don't set foot outside of anywhere but the Senate halls and $1,000-a-plate fundraisers. And now people want to maim New Hampshire, the last great bastion of man-to-man stump speeches, and the last place where a politician gets to (or, heaven forbid, has to) act like a true human being. Then again, maybe I just have an irrational desire that every would-be President jump off the Rte. 175 Bridge into the Pemi River to prove his mettle.

And in the shout-outs section of the Queries, I want to give some props to my old commander Steve Haro, quoted in today's edition of The Caucus. Huzzah to a great communicator.

Once again at the M&D, enjoying one of the all-time greats that I usually only have the privilege to sip on in Newport, Oregon, a Rogue Brutal Bitter.

First in the Nation,
BTB

All the Cool Kids Are Doing It

Life in 3-Q is now as passe as a 1950's life in 3-D while we sit knee deep in the hoopla about 2008, and rightly so given the breached-dam-like flood of candidates in the last week. Since my last post we have officially seen Hillary, Bill Richardson and Sam Brownback enter the fray, adding to the already crowded field. This is all very new, exciting and confusing for me. My recollections of primaries past are as follows:

2004:

• W has the GOP nomination locked up.
• John Kerry arrives as the early frontrunner, theoretically challenged by Gephardt. Dean comes on strong and steals the lead role until Iowa. He screams, Kerry wins, Edwards finishes strong, and next thing you know New Hampshire is over and Kerry's momentum is unstoppable.

2000:

• Early favorite Bush triumphs with a foreshadowing shadiness over McCain and the Straight Talk Express, while a bunch of yahoos like Steve Forbes, Liddy Dole, Orrin Hatch, Gary Bauer and Alan Keyes wallow in the background.
• Bill Bradley puts up a minor affront to Albert Gore, Jr.'s campaign, and is quickly and repeatedly snuffed. A real no-brainer.

Now we have '08. Whereas the last two cycles could be likened more accurately to Wrestlemania affairs consisting of two-man, and occasional tag-team, title matches we now have a true Royal Rumble. Clinton! Obama! Edwards! Kerry! Richardson! Biden! Dodd! Kucinich! McCain! Giuliani! Romney! Brownback! Hunter! Paul! Live from Washington, DC! Tuesday! Tuesday! Tuesday! 2008!!!! As they say in the District, we built this city on talk and polls.

As the Fix shows, everyone already has a pollster, and this good article in the Times wisely mentions how Clark came in too late last year, a mistake certainly not to be made by anyone with a head on their shoulders this time around. Which reminds me of my lucid regrets of 11/3/04, when I was never more certain of anything in my damned life than I was of Wes Clark's ability to win a theoretical race against the Dub. This year, though, everyone is in it to win it. We could have a primary season like never before, with each debate and each state like the Round of 64. You know there is going to be a Cinderella. You know there is a Goliath in the wait. Who will be the SW Missouri State, and who will be the Arizona? We'll have to let New Hampshire sort them out...unless the rest of the country has something to say about it.

The snow and the frigid temps appear to be back on the Quabbin Radar. Here's to a relevant woodstove, and the necessity of layering. In Corsedonk We Trust,

BTB

The Bodacity of Hope

Just as the melting ice slowly twirls about in my tumbler of Old Pulteney Single Malt, the slowly twisting path of fresh-eyed optimism makes it's way back into the quadrennial path of the Presidency. This isn't to say that John Edwards isn't making a claim to the same exact mantle place, but the clearcut New Hope in this cycle has to be Barack Obama, who just a few days ago formed his Presidential exploratory committee. An excerpt from his exploratory announcement speech sums his wild path to stardom up succinctly when he says, "I certainly didn't expect to find myself in this position a year ago. But as I've spoken to many of you in my travels across the states these past months; as I've read your emails and read your letters; I've been struck by how hungry we all are for a different kind of politics."

So it has come about, the pipe dream of so many has now begun to show the tiniest bit of distant light in the uniquely political way of creating an opening to donate, donate, donate! With that, the Dems now have two monster front runners - Barack and the yet-to-announce Hillary, who had to play a little bit of damage control upon Obama's announcement. She cancelled her own press conference that day, live from Iraq, and spent the next day on a total media blitz. It wasn't any ordinary media blitz, either. Hilly made it clear that she was no Hawk on Iraq. She even went a little gut feeling Bush-y on us, telling NPR yesterday morning that "I was listening for a level of commitment to securing Iraq by the Iraqi government and the Iraqi army and police force that has been missing, and I didn't hear that." Now she and Chris Dodd both are advertising a troop cap, while Obama basks in his anti-war credentials from 2002. There he speaks of Civil War, just as today his team promotes him as a modern-day Honest Abe, an Illinoisan of modest experience but profound judgment. Problem is, he ain't Kentuck.

On the other side of the aisle, most of the noise has come from fringe candidates. The fervent anti-immigration Congressman Tom Tancredo (R-CO) has been rumored to announce any day now. His first, his last, his everything is immigration: "There is no doubt that America is facing an illegal immigration crisis. Currently, there are at least 12 million illegal aliens living in America I am absolutely opposed to amnesty or guest worker program in any form." That. of course, being the first line of his website's issues statement. I fully understand that I sound dismissive, but I want to make it clear that I have had very little direct negative impact placed upon my own livelihood by illegal aliens, so I must not have the clear understanding of it that Team T does. I mean, I get paid to teach fractions to 55 kids who weren't born here. I say bring 'em on! Tancredo, meanwhile, lists his favorite activities to be "skeet shooting" and "playing ball".

There is also Dr. Ron Paul (L-TX), who is briefly abandoning his Libertarian roots to battle for the GOP nod in 2008. Congressman Paul is an actual MD, and an OB-GYN to boot! He throws down a weekly column on his official government page and represents the Spring Break/old school cowboy Gulf Coast region of Galveston, TX and the Matagorda Islands. I read a Louis L'Amour book called Matagorda once. It was pretty badass. Let's hope Paul can be replaced on the fringe this year with, I dunno, Sam Brownback. More Brownback, just in case.

In non-Presidential news, Quabbin weather has been Qonsistently Qrapping out on us. All MLK weekend I would hear reports of impending snow and frigid temperatures, only to hear recanted forecasts and see a continuation of 40 degrees and drizzle. It dipped chilly on Wednesday, but here it is half past midnight on Thursday night and the 9pm snow schedule has been pushed back yet again. I left for a run at 8pm tonight hoping to come across some early flurries, but there was nothing in the air but a strange frozen mist that left a crunchy mix of frozen sand on the street. No blanket of snow, and certainly no white reflective covering on the roads. When I hit the Gulf Road wilderness I had to slow to a crawl because I literally couldn't see the ground in front of my feet. But Don't Stop Believin' was my theme song tonight, and I was able to stick it out past the blindness and get in a full run.

While I was out there, and having committed three miles, I started thinking about faith. It was faith of sorts that pushed me through the dark part of my run tonight. While I could not see the ground as I was running, I knew that there would always be something for me to land on because I had done it before, and because I wanted to do it again. I reckon there could have been a cavernous pothole, but I had faith that there wasn't. It was a small faith, but it was enough that I was proud to overcome my hurdle. When you think of the things that people do, and the strength one can gain, it really boggles the mind. On the one hand you have Martin Luther King, Jr. doing his amazing work. On the other you have a bunch of shitbags bent on destroying things. And then you have a Presidential race every four years where people waste days upon days of time watching pundits, write checks for $2,000 as often as they can, and spend hours in the cold waving signs on a November tuesday. None of this happens without faith. Even for the faithless, there are dark country roads and a running log waiting back at home. Everything goes well and I'll hit 35 this week for the first time in five months. I do it on faith that when I am out on the roads in the dark, that I will smell some old smell or remember some old memory that just might trigger some new idea of faith, and that will keep me going on one more run, keep me watching one more hour of convention coverage next July. Who knows, maybe I'll break 17 again. Maybe I'll get a job in the White House. Maybe I'll just pour myself another and worry about how I butchered all those pure and beautiful thoughts I had on the road with the frozen mist propping my hair up like I was some cameo actor in Twin Peaks.

Preparing to Fare Thee Well a couple of amigos,

BTB

Lodi Doddi

It was a big week in politics, and a rude awakening to Quabbin Qountry about the difficulty of being a part-time blogger. I was so preoccupied with track practice, a New Yorker article about Dem hopefuls, unexpected dates and, hell, even a smutty Stranger article, that the next thing I knew it was Saturday, mid-way through the third quarter of the Ravens-Colts game and I was in a horrible mood about Purple's inability to find the end zone. This doesn't even begin to take into account the numerous newspaper profiles and blog entries in this week's Times and Post. A couple of Keystone Reds later, I knew my only hope was to walk out to my automobile and coast all the way down Gulf Hill at speeds no less than 45mph and find the nearest internet cafe.

I guess to cover the basics, it would be important to mention that one of New England's invisible Senator's has officially announced his entry into the 2008 campaign. Christopher Dodd (D-CT), although the Nutmeg State's senior senator, has been relatively unknown outside of political circles for much of his twenty-six years in the more deliberative body. He is the son of a Senator with a ready-made politician's c.v. including two years in the Peace Corps, six years in the army and the rest in elected office. I love Connecticut and all, but it sounds pretty boring from here. On the bright side, the guy was born in Willimantic and lives in my fantasy basketball haven of Haddam, is known for his sharp wit and at one point in the late 80's as a womanizer side-by-side with Teddy K.

Conventional wisdom has it these days, that Denver will host the 2008 Democratic National Convention. The Rocky Mountain Front is in the "Hickenloop", so to speak. Seeking to reach out to those stubborn Westerners, expect a lot of "cowboy" patterned shirts and major speaking parts by Jon Tester, Ken Salazar, Mark Udall and Bill Richardson. Holy Shit, LoDo is going to be off the hook that week. The last night I recall being in Denver, I was sobbing and nearly passed out drunk on the sidewalk of South 14th and Champa Street, having just tipped over on my bike. The night in question was November 2, 2004. This time it is just the beginning, at the Pepsi Center. You say you want a Revolution? Well, you know, we all want to change the world.

Alas, there is a lot to catch up on, and cold days ahead may prove just cozy enough to provide the time and the place. In the meantime, Go 'Hawks!!

Ahoy,
BTB

Priorities

For Starters:

'Hawks Win! As a tatted up Jerramy Stevens might say: always hated, never faded. Well, the Seahawks actually were faded on seven different occasions, but here we are in the tournament and Seattle is undefeated and headed to Chicago with hopes of revenge for the 37-6 trouncing at the hands of the Bears back in week 4. The Quabbin is feeling very Qonfident that the 'Hawks can pull it off on the road and head into another NFC championship game with the head of a large bear on the end of their pointed talons. Quite frankly, I think it will be another wacky one chock full of fumbles and field goals and flags. Bring it on.

In other sporting news I ran ten miles today, once again exceeding my bounds in the name of ambition that regrettably seems to fade every four days. Having just packed it in mentally and decided to cut my proposed hour-long run down to a five mile jaunt through the woods at daylight's end, I was surprised with an unexpected visit from the Rosen family on a 12-miler that tracked past my house. It felt so good to run with another human that I ended up hanging on beyond the Pelham Meetinghouse, all the way down Southeast Road and over Route 9, to the point where I was bound for the diez. I braved it alone up the Smith's Orchard hill, struggling all the way with only the rushing sound of Scarboro Brook and the desire to warm my slowly freezing hands to keep me on task. Aye, and I made it, and in time to jot down another 3Q post.

While I was running up that last hill, my mind kept returning to the days when large inclines actually beckoned me and endurance was something that I owned and embraced. Relatively speaking, I could probably say the same thing about myself today but it is so hard to live up the past. Those thoughts got me pondering, yet again, the idea of priorities. Once upon a time my main priority was to hit my weekly mileage - whether 45, 60, 70, 75, 85 or 90 - and prepare well enough on the outside of those runs to try to live up to my slightly distorted self-image on race day. It almost never happened, but on those two or three days that it did everything was sweet. Every mile in the cold and every extra repeat and every night that I didn't go out partying was worth it because of 1580 seconds worth of ground covered on a given course.

People respect priorities, that is why professional sports is such a big deal. I have tried a number of times in my life to de-emphasize the NFL, NBA and MLB because of the great amounts of excess inherently involved in 70,000 seat stadiums and 7-year, $34M contracts for doing something that has little social impact, and often times even less athletic impact. But for the rest of the athletes on the field, success is a priority. That is why they people pay $1,000 for playoff tickets, why networks flash fantasy statistics at the bottom of the tv screen during regular season football games, why cities raise their taxes to keep a pro team in town.

I have had a number of priorities in my life, but nothing was ever as big as athletic achievement.

For others it has been business dominance, musical statement, marriage, social justice, hustling, pimping, and the success of their children. Halfway through my third decade of life, I realize that priorities are a tough thing to latch onto, and an even tougher thing to fulfill. Growing up, one's priorities may shift from week to week, and usually center on one's self. In high school and college, often times you figure out where you want to focus to lie (i.e. partying, getting laid, making the soccer team, getting a library job, driving a hot car, etc.). But once that is over the whole landscape changes. You mature into your mid-twenties and next thing you know, you want to be a little less selfish, and you want to make your way in the world. All of the sudden you realize that music career isn't going to get you very far, and you aren't going to make any money running unless you can go under fourteen minutes in the 5k.

Finding that next priority is the rub. 25-year-olds without priorities wander aimlessly through a life of odd jobs and different cities, unless you believe the bumper sticker that reads not all who wander are lost. Politicians without priorities, of course, wind up in the Senate and often win the Democratic nomination for the Presidency.

This era's political priority, for better or for worse, is most certainly Iraq. The land where Uday Hussein once oversaw the Iraqi Olympic Committee and the national Football Federation with a bloody, ball-clenching fist is now hands down the biggest concern of every major national politician. The priority today for a candidate is to be hawkish about fulfilling our responsibility or staunch about a long-standing opposition to the mess. Now with Bush, McCain, Lieberman and others calling for a "surge" in troops (sadly, not a Surge for troops), it may become that much more of a priority to America.

Joe Biden, meanwhile, finds it to be a huge priority but in some senses a false priority. He claimed recently that the Bush White House has given up and is only looking to add more troops in order to stick it to whomever takes over, saying "They have no answer to deal with how badly they have screwed it up. I am not being facetious now. Therefore, the best thing to do is keep it from totally collapsing on your watch and hand it off to the next guy -- literally, not figuratively." He goes on in another interview to add, "I’m not trying to be a wise guy in saying this, but . . . I totally underestimated the incompetence and arrogance of this administration once they were given the power to use power in Iraq. It is actually mind-blowing.” Ladies and gentlemen, Joe Biden! I've met the guy in person, and I can't tell you how happy I am that he is entering the race.

Frank Rich wrote another good column about our Iraq ties, this time in relation to The Timely Death of Gerald Ford, as he puts it. Rich recollects Ford most prescient achievement not to be the pardoning of Richard Nixon, but the ending of American involvement in Vietnam. He quotes from Ford's April 23, 1975 speech at Tulane:

"Today, America can regain the sense of pride that existed before Vietnam. But it cannot be achieved by re-fighting a war that is finished as far as America is concerned...We, of course, are saddened indeed by the events in Indochina. But these events, tragic as they are, portend neither the end of the world nor of America's leadership in the world. Let me put it this way, if I might. Some tend to feel that if we do not succeed in everything everywhere, then we have succeeded in nothing anywhere. I reject categorically such polarized thinking. We can and we should help others to help themselves. But the fate of responsible men and women everywhere, in the final decision, rests in their own hands, not in ours."

It is implicit in the speech that Ford had the courage to say such things. Certainly following a decade spent killing hundreds of thousands of Viet Cong and peasants alike, with some 60,000 US Soldiers tragically filling out the casualty list, it would have been a difficult choice for a leader to simply stop. Talk about a bad break up. Yet it was Ford who did this, and more importantly admitted that we could go on afterward in the face of the Cold War. Iraq will be a different story, with current technology allowing a small cell of Unckie Sam-hating baddies to inflict damage on our person, as opposed to a gaudy and gutless Soviet Union.

Some are born with priorities. Some achieve priorities. Some have priorities thrust upon them. I remember the days when I was just trying to break five minutes. Now we just hope the death toll stays below five US troops each day.

Ahoy from the Quabbin, sausage stew and Scotch on the rocks.

House Party

With official swearing-in duties over and done, the Democrats have taken over leadership duties in both the US House and Senate and I really couldn't care much less. I don't mean to be cynical, just forgetful. After a long legislative vacation, due in part to the permanent campaign and in part to the holiday season, it feels like congress has actually been do-nothing for at least 2 months. Out of sight, out of mind. Throw in all of the false promise of partnership for the new year and I would rather just skip the newspaper for a couple of days. But alas, I will give some mention to the momentous occasion that is the first edition of Madam Speaker. Well, because we must think of the children. Now bring on the legislation, and that right slowly!

The Fix tells us today that Giuliani has added more staff, including Arnold's old communications director. The Fix, I might add, truly is a fix for the political junkie. If you don't read it a few times a week already, I would recommend it as a prescient New Year's Resolution. My boy Howard Kurtz is tight and all, but this blows Media Notes out of the water.

Well, there is only so much to say out here in Quabbin Qountry and two posts in as many days leaves a fellow breathless sometimes. Give me my leave, good sirs and madam speakers, that I may look up at the still-blazing moon and feel the early spring air drift up the valley in pockets of wind and warmth.

Ahoy,
BTB

The Moon Is So Bright,

To paraphrase Timbuk3, I Gotta Wear Shades.

The amount of moonlight coming down on Quabbin Qountry was tantamount to LUNAcy. I hopped out of the cabin around 8:15 tonight, and my first few steps alongside the neighbor's pasture were chock full of sheer giddiness. I literally bounded down the lane for the first hundred meters or so until the shade of the trees finally kicked in to cloud my vision ever so slightly. By the time I got down the hill near Cadwell I began to harbor illusions that I could run in the woods. Obviously, I gave it a try. I made it roughly 55 seconds down the trail before I turned around, partly out of wariness of the dark, partly out of my inability to keep pace along the shadowy, rocky path. Nevertheless, I put in a solid 2 minutes on trail at 8:20pm in January. It would be a stretch to find much negativity in that.

Now here we are, one more 3Q entry in the books, and one year closer to Presidential Go Time according to the last two digits of today's date (1/03/07). Happy New Year. After a Dem-happy December (Dem-cember, if you will), the GOP is back in the limelight with mixed results. The most newsworthy event, if you count media coverage, ended up being Rudy's folly. Giuliani made headlines today with a leaked document allegedly stolen from a staffer, copied, and replaced in it's original briefcase. The paper, hardly containing anything surprising, went over the possible hurdles for a Rudy candidacy.

All along I had found most of the skepticism over the former NYC mayor's candidacy a bit questionable, but now I am starting to see it. We here in Quabbin Qountry are all for seeing RWG toss his hat in because of his leadership qualities and presumably bipartisan nature, but his messy divorce and the Bernie Kerik baggage should be a tough sell especially in the Republican primaries. Granted, personal lives should be withheld from politics to an extent, but there is something to be said about one's character when he leaves his wife immediately for someone else, and then the ex- summarily hates him. It is one thing to get a blow job at your desk, it is entirely another to be boinking around so seriously. I imagine this plays doubly so in early primaries like South Carolina and Iowa.

The Kerik affair is truly the most intriguing bit of his entire campaign. Many of you will recall that Bernie once seemed like the American Dream come true - son of a New Jersey prostitute done good - and a tremendous choice to lead the Department of Homeland Security. But then came nannygate and, ultimately more devastating, Regangate. My favorite part about all of this, if Rudy ends up running and if Kerik becomes a major issue, is that OJ Simpson will play a role in Presidential politics. Judith Regan, Bernie's one time sordid lover, was recently axed from a prominent position at HarperCollins publishing allegedly for anti-Semitic comments...but clearly for her decision to publish OJ's memoir, If I Did It. The "It", of course, refers not to sex but to the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman. Unbelievable. In fact, I sincerely hope this becomes an issue.

The other news, of course, pertains to Mitt Romney's filing for a Presidential exploratory committee. Much like Edwards earlier in the week, Mitt was overshadowed but both the Rudy scandal and the Ford funeral. Poor Mitt; not only did his Lieutenant get completely destroyed in the election to replace him, but he can't even make the local NPR news. At least, not when I was listening. On the bright side, at least Rom was able to make the historic Lone Walk today, following the footsteps of "Silent" Cal Coolidge, John Hancock and Michael Dukakis.

I'm Mitt Romney, and I disapprove of my 2nd page headlines.

Now for the lighter side. Let us take a moment to mock fundraising. In the spirit of Dubya's Rangers and Pioneers, Mitt Romney has decided to go political with those designated as "First Ballot Chairman" responsible for $250,000 in contributions in the campaign's first 30 days, "First Ballot Vice Chair" for $100,000 in donations, and "First Ballot Member" $50,000. Rudy, meanwhile, is going baseball, calling his top donors "Team Captain", "MVP", "All-Star" and "Slugger". "Slugger"? Wasn't that the name of Buddy Cole's softball team? Oh, those confused Republicans. And last but not least, outgoing Florida governor John "Jeb" Bush has chosen to include within his gubernatorial portrait a blackberry and a bible. You heard right, not only can he talk to God but he can e-mail him, too!

On a more somber note, my condolences go out to friends, family, and general populace who were saddened by the shooting death of a Foss High School student on school grounds this morning in Tacoma, Washington. We here in Quabbin Qountry wish, along with the rest of the world, for a more peaceful new year.



Sipping a Val Dieu,

BTB

Nature

The first thing that motivated me to make a nature post was the proposed listing of the Polar Bear to the Threatened Species List of the Endangered Species Act this week (and a special Thank You to Nicole for correcting me on the specifics of it merely being a proposed listing). As I looked into it further, I saw that dozens upon dozens of newspapers immediately editorialized that it was about time. For those of us who saw An Inconvenient Truth, it turns out that little cartoon was no joke. The heavily studied bear population of greater Churchill, Ontario has dropped to 935 from 1,194 between 1987 and 2004 according to the Fish & Wildlife Service. This is kind of big, considering the rate at which human population has grown since my kindergarten days of 1987. But most of all, respect to those beasts who are the namesake of the act of jumping into icy cold waters on Xmas day all around the world strictly for the purpose of feeling life more coldly and deeply.

I later came upon an article about Goldsborough Creek in Mason County, WA talking about the noticeable return of salmon to the Goldsborough watershed in the five years since the breaching. In spite of my 130-page tome on salmon policy from 2004, I am still uncertain about what is best for salmon within the framework of our society. That said, there is something in my gut about a free-flowing river. I'll be the first to admit that our beloved Quabbin is itself a product of the dammed Swift River, but it is hard to argue with the sound of the rushing creek out my window, singing it's lullaby to me every evening after a hard rain. Anyway, on the dam front, there appears to be more on tap where that came from.

Finally, we have a brief polemic on the Quabbin. Amazingly, this Thursday stood as my first ever voyage into Gate 8, the nearest entry into the reservation from my house. I can blame it on laziness, poor fitness, or poor judgement. I think I will choose all three. It was a beautiful trip, all 25 minutes of it. I ran from my house up to Knight's Pond and down Packardville Road until I skirted around the metal gate into the boundaries of the Quabbin. The road, already gravel, turned soft and comforting immediately. I saw bogs and pine stands alike off to my right and left as I ran further downhill, in the direction of drifting water toward the big reservoir. I imagined moose and hawks and bears but saw none. After about a mile I turned left off of the arterial onto a smaller road that crossed a creek, then went uphill and hit a slight clearing. It was there that I stopped, pissed and turned around. The majesty of the Quabbin pushed me to negative splits, even with the considerable elevation gain coming home. I anxiously await the days when I can actually run 8+ miles on a regular basis, and thus the Quab. The next day, mental imagery in tow, I drove up the Daniel Shays Highway en route to Hwy 2 and ultimately Maine. It is hard to beat the path along the Pelham highlands past Shutesbury and New Salem with lookouts stretching far out into the hills, a deep, deep lake somewhere below.

Two Americas

Or, as Kraus would say, Two Uh-Mare-I-Kuhs. Such is the theme that John Edwards says he will continue touting in his now-official run for the 2008 Democratic nomination for the Presidency. The Sunshine Boy threw his hat in a few days ago now, giving me time in my blograstination to think a little bit more on the subject. My initial reaction was that Edwards appeared to be a little too much of an everyman in his announcement speech from the still devastated 9th Ward of New Orleans. He was either clearly or deliberately unscripted as he talked about the things he felt were necessary for a better America, casually gesturing to the neighborhood around him with a well-casted crew of young black children in the background who have helped him do clean-up work.

My initial reaction was, No, not Presidential. But over a couple of days I came to realize that it is December of 2006, not July of '08. Maybe you don't want to come on too strong, too soon. But what really got to me was the heart of the announcement. The former Senator felt it was important “to show what’s possible when we as Americans, instead of staying home and complaining, actually take action and take responsibility.” It was a bit of a shock for a Quabbiner, living some thousand miles away, to see just a glimpse of the massive amount of work that still is left down in Cajun Country, and kudos to Edwards for pointing that out to people.

You certainly don't see Dubya reminding people of their civic duty to look out for their countrymen. In fact, as an aside, our President seemed to feel that Saddam's execution was a matter of little importance to him as he slept and sent one of his employees to comment. To quote Wayne Campbell, "As if!" As if Bush didn't give a damn! The sensibility of death penalty aside, it irked me to see Bush once again display a nonchalant attitude toward a major event that, in this case, he created. The haughty and presumptuous air of expectation is verrrry un-Quabbin.

Back to Edwards. The experience thing and the looks-like-he-is-40 thing will be hurdles, but I am starting to think that there could be a turning tide for 2008, which I will discuss in more detail in some future query. A tide that is more hospitable to larvae and less so to barnacles. Plus, his facebook profile lists his two favorite activities as basketball and running, just like we do here in Quabbin Qountry.

I think it is appropriate to close with some quotations about Gerald Ford, our 38th President:

"Gerald Ford was almost alone in his understanding that there can be no healing without pardon." - Dick Cheney, Nixon apologist.

"In 1974 America didn't need a philosopher-king or a warrior-prince. We needed a healer, we needed a rock, we needed honesty and candor and courage. We needed Gerald Ford." - Dennis Hastert, backhanded complimenter.

And now we go to a time of Three living ex-presidents, which might be the fewest in our modern history. I would be interested to find out.

Rest in Peace, Gerald Ford. A football player, a sailor, a civil servant, a President. Certainly not an Arrogant Bastard, which sits in my mug as we speak.
















Ahoy,
BTB

Old Man Weakness

This morning I got a stark reality check when I predicted my time in a local, low-key 5k race and proceeded to run almost a full minute slower. What makes matters worse is that I thought my predicted time was conservative. Today's race was my slowest non-hungover 5k race ever. I mean ever, by at least 45 seconds. After I finished I turned back onto the course and ran until I picked up my mom and finished with her. Unfortunately, the race was so low-key that they didn't even record our home towns. I have yet to be identified as Bryan Bissell, 25, Quabbin Qountry; and my mom was unable to fully represent Tacoma on coolrunning. What a shame.

As I write this entry from my bed, with the family just outside the door, I am suddenly reminded of the image of that bridge in the North End of Boston with the Christmas lights strung all along it's side. I want to go there and look late at night, with a slight buzz and ideally a place to stay. I want this to happen at 2:20 in the morning. I want to smell the harbor, and feel the cool night air.

Bye, Bayh

Whatever song is playing over the speakers here at the M&D sounds awfully similar to Bob Dylan's Tryin' to Get to Heaven from Time Out of Mind, but there are no lyrics this time around, and it is becoming more and more Celtic with each passing bar. I wish that it were Tryin', because that's a beautiful song about hopelessness and optimism, and it references both Missouri and New Orleans. Most people might say Texas or California, but I think that Missouri and New Orleans are the two most visceral US locations out there. I have no personal basis for this claim, and I think that is why I feel the need to make it.

My favorite editorial columnist, the smug and biting Frank Rich, wrote a particularly insightful article today about the possible pitfalls of GOP moves to the right socially when the rest of the country appears to be headed in the opposite direction. In it, he calls out John McCain for his blunder on ABC's "This Week":
"Are you against civil unions for gay couples?” he asked the senator, who replied, “No, I’m not.” When Mr. Stephanopoulos reiterated the question seconds later — “So you’re for civil unions?” — Mr. McCain answered, “No.” In other words, he was not against civil unions before he was against them.
Now that is leadership.

On the same side, Newt Gingrich has announced that he will be sitting on the sidelines until the fall, leaving the frontrunners to duke it out through the summer and hoping that his late splash will prove beneficial to his campaign. In the meantime he called today's social challenges, presumably gays, God, and guns, "greater than any since 1861," and is touting his new slogan "Real Change requires Real Change." Hey, we here at 3Q approve of that motto because, hey, let's start with the obvious. As for likening same-sex marriage to slavery, we might be getting ahead of ourselves a little bit.

Getting back to the title of the post, Sen. Evan Bayh has changed his mind after years of preparation and decided to end his courtship of the Democratic nomination. Every article about this says the same thing, how everyone is shocked to hear the news. Well, I am, too. Not to mention disappointed. From what I could gather he seemed to lack charisma, but I was nevertheless interested to hear what he had to offer, especially in contrast to the Big 2. Indiana, the Crossroads of America, has lost it's hope for the big stage.

The warm winter is continuing here in Quabbin Qountry, which made for a great run this afternoon. Yesterday as I was running toward Knight Pond I was flagged down by one of the local residents asking me if I had seen any xmas tree poachers on her property. I hadn't, but I used the opportunity to ask the woman if she would allow me to run on her property, which was dotted on either side of her house for a few hundred meters with dozens of No Trespassing signs. She obliged my request, saying that the signs were only there to deter ATV riders who illegally and dangerously romped through her woods on a regular basis, destroying trails and annoying anyone in earshot all the while. Today I took her up on her offer, and set off into the trails, which are wider than singletrack, and not too rugged. Ideal for running with a small group of people. I anxiously await the days that I can show them off to my cohorts, from the early pine forests to the rickety marsh bridges, and through to the clearcuts that remind me of my childhood days in Oak Harbor.

It has been a long and trying weekend here at QQHQ, time to go home, rustle up some grub and read until I fall asleep. Should only take about ten minutes.

Early on the campaign trail,

BTB

No Code

I spoke with my friend Angus a couple of nights ago and he sarcastically uttered something along the lines of "awesome, we're all gonna die soon" in reference to this week's string of globally warm 40- and 50-degree high temperatures here in the East. He has been riding his bike all around Cleveland, Ohio to and from his job at a local bookstore, presumably stocking shelves and reading story time to three-to-five year old kids. I anxiously await the day that he reads My Pet Goat.

The unseasonably warm temperatures create a winter of far more discontent than one filled with blizzards and ice-slicked roads. The reason? Dread. While I cherish the days that I can go outside without a coat, not having to worry about it being stolen from a bar, I dread the onset of freezing weather and the idea that it may never come. Worse yet, the idea that it may not arrive until mid-January and, by logic, stick around until April. I say give me my winter, and that right early. I could more than stand a few dumpings of snow, and the particularly clear way the night sky looks when the mercury drops into the teens. When the stars shine so brightly that they instigate the battle of how long you can stand being outside looking at them before you rush back into the cabin's warm fire-lit shelter, confined to the disappointing glow of filament light. All this, and the promise of a springy March. Instead I run with SportHills and a long sleeve instead of three layers on top, thick tights and a stuffed sock in my crotch to keep warm, and count my blessings that I can get on clean trails for another week.

The warm weather also facilitated a late night drive a few hours ago with no weather worries. On the road I was able to reacquaint myself with one of my all-time favorite albums, and one that I think is one of the most underrated albums of all time by a popular artist, Pearl Jam's No Code. It marks the beginning of PJ's transition from a grunge/hard rock band into the more subtle, ambient sounds that ruined albums like Binaural. As they matured out of vs. and Vitalogy their lyrics become more thoughtful, touching on themes like the transition into adulthood and the emotions that come with it - drifting away from old friends (In My Tree and Off He Goes), bitter respect toward love and lack thereof (Hail, Hail) and self-righteously shunning the mainstream culture (Habit and Mankind) before summing it all up on a beautifully hopeful note with Around the Bend:
I am wishing you a well
Mind at peace within your cell
Covers up, I cast you off
I'll be watching as you breathe
I lie still, you move, I send
You,... off around the bend

I hold your head deep in my arms
My fingertips they close your eyes
Off you dream, my little child
There's a sun around the bend
There's a sun around the bend

All the evenings close like this
All these moments that I've missed
Please forgive me, won't you, dear?
Please forgive and let me share...
With... you... around the bend

You're an angel when you sleep
How I want your soul to keep
On and on around the bend


Please, give this album a listen whether or not you are a Pearl Jam fan. In fact, come on over to the Quabbin Qountry Qabin, I'll be more than happy to oblige you with a full listening experience and maybe even some venison. Let's be mid-to-late 20-somethings for 45 minutes. Lord knows I am quite experienced at it, even at this young age.

Off to explore Mount Lincoln on foot,
BTB

It Begins, again

Briefly, the news has been fast and furious on the 2008 front lately. As soon as I figure out links, the 3Q should be quite a bit more informative (editor's note - I figured it out and have since added links). But the rundown for those not in the know - a couple days ago Barack took his first trip to NH since all the speculation. Clinton met with governor-elect Spitzer to discuss the viability of a run. Pataki met with a half dozen governors who were in office ca. 1995 for a tour of ground zero and more Presidential feasibility chat. That same day, McCain was the keynote speaker at a prominent gathering of a Jewish group in the city. Today's Dowd column in the times compares Obama and Clinton vis-a-vis their respective whiteness and manliness. Tom Vilsack of Iowa officially threw his hat into the ring, and a bunch of people set up exploratory committees.

I don't know if it is just because I am paying more attention (possibly) or because it is an open contest (probably) but it seems like this cycle's primary season will be far more high profile than the past few elections. I wasn't in NH for 2000 but I was able to stand, alongside a German exchange student and a croud of ghetto children, behind Bill Bradley at a Boys and Girls Club in Hilltop Tacoma for a photo op without any scrutiny. Meanwhile, it seemed like loads of people were being gladhanded by McCain and Teve Torbes on the television. In 2004 I shared a Sam Adams and a few words about xc with Senator Kerry at a Portsmouth pub, watches John Edwards among a crowd of roughly 25 mostly homeless people who were only there for the free hot dogs that the Sunshine Boy handed out afterward.

Am I being cynical when I wonder aloud that no such grassroots action will be achievable with Hillary, Barack, McCain, and Giuliani? Or am I just starstruck?

In other news, I spoke with the Holyoke High track coach and it looks like I will be volunteering a couple times a week with the distances squad with the hope of an asst. coach position opening up for the outdoor season. GO KNIGHTS?

Sunny Day

I woke up before 11 today, which is always a bonus on Sunday, and managed to avoid the temptation of seven hours alone with the NFL at my house, or in the bars. As usual I drove down to the Black Sheep to pick up a scone for breakfast, and as usual I came away empty handed. This time they actually had a few on stock, but I have no room in my diet for rum raisin, even in an ice cream cone. Another Sunday, another cookie for breakfast.

Back at home I started looking into the USATF trail series for this summer. On the negative side, I realized that the guys who win it seem to be pretty nasty runners, but on the bright side I got pretty psyched for it. I spent a good hour checking out the different races like Wachusett, Loon, Ascutney and Northfield and made a pledge to myself to make a good faith effort to boost my fitness up to the point where I could make a crack at a few top-five finishes up the mountain this summer. Last night, shortly after 2:30am, I was reading from Yvon Chouinard's chronicle of Patagonia's rise to power. In it he gives a brief description of the zen approach to archery. To shoot in the zen manner is not to focus on the target, but rather to make each piece of the technique of shooting the arrow a priority and the target will, as a result of the focus and care taken, become a successfully foregone conclusion. I decided it would be a good idea in life as well. If I can, among other things, run up mountains quickly I should be on track to achieve across the board in life. Now let's find the other things to include among the mountains.

Peace of mind in hand like a hat, I set out on a run down into Cadwell Forest and down the M-M trail into Buffam Falls. I had really hoped to get down into the piney trails of Buffam and maybe see a few creeks in the early winter sunlight, all within a 7 or 8 mile run. The run itself started as planned, stumbling down the M-M toward Amherst Road and across into the Reservoir. The trails felt good throughout, and felt wonderful each time I would happen upon one of those pine stands that seem to increase the winter temperature by 5 degrees, and somehow soften the ground beneath.

I turned around when the trail met the crossing at the confluence of two brooks whose names I need to learn, and after momentarily missing a couple of turns on my way back, I came back up to Meetinghouse Road. Instead of taking the path I came in on I decided to follow a new trail, where I heard some barking dogs enjoying their walk in the near distance. The trail was wider than most, an old road or something, and it followed a brook for about a half mile until it became a reservoir and the trail cut up and to the left. From there on out as each turn failed to reveal a road, or even the distant sound of a car wishing by, I knew I was in for a longer run than I had planned. I finally found the road at just over 52 minutes, and figured I was about three miles from home. I took roads all the way back, and staggered down my driveway at 1:12:35. What today was probably less than ten, felt like the seventeen of old. I guess the zen approach has to start somewhere.

The goal is to write more about politics than running, but I am interested to see how the subject matter asserts itself. I look forward to the day when endorsements are made based on Quabbin Qountry values, when assessments of strength and wisdom are presented with passion and authority, and when I can relate them back to the woods of Western Mass over the warmth of a cold beer. Life is about having adventures and using them to make the bland parts bold. Because being bold is tough to do, but in Quabbin Qountry it is a little bit easier.

Signing off from the M&D with a Piraat and a Kwak,
BTB

Quabbin Qountry Queries

I have been thinking about creating a venue for writing for quite a while and today while I was running up Mount Lincoln I decided that now was as good a time as any. My hope is that I will put something up at least once a week, and more importantly that I will have something interesting to say, and even better that I will live my life with the intent of discovering interesting things to say. Here's to Solley, and all the other bloggers out there.

From the shores of the Quabbin,
BTB