Month: June 2024

If you’re going to engage in any discussions about replacing Joe Biden on the ticket, you should know a few unassailable facts that the media have left out of their hysterical drumbeat “coverage” of what “Democratic insiders” are saying:

1. Democratic “insiders” don’t give the President advice through the media. They speak directly to him or to the people in his immediate circle. Anyone you see publicly calling on the President to step down is not close to him and does not have his ear. Yes, they may attend occasional briefings at the DNC or get invited to the White House holiday parties and annual Easter Egg Roll, and have their picture taken with him at fundraisers they pay good money to attend so they can get their picture taken. But they don’t have real access to him and they can’t be assumed to have his best interests in mind. Because the people who are actually close to him don’t call him out on CNN and Twitter.
2. For some reason, the folks pushing and buying the Biden Replacement Theory seem to think (or want you to think) that picking a replacement would be smooth sailing and that we would end up with a consensus candidate that everyone is happy with. But anyone with even a cursory knowledge of politics, in general, and Democratic politics, in particular, should know that that’s not what would happen. Instead, it would be a bloody battle with knock down drag out fights and lots of angry people in the end. And whoever emerged from that would be bruised, battered, weakened, and forced to spend a good deal of the time and energy that should be focused on Trump, instead on trying to heal the deep inter-party rifts the choiced opened and convince people in our own party to vote for them – people whose vote Joe Biden already had locked up.
3. And let’s not even talk about what they would run on. No, let’s talk about it.What exactly shiny new candidate run on? That they’re younger than Trump? Because they certainly couldn’t run on Biden’s record. And there isn’t a single person whose name has been floated who could run on a record that comes even close to his. Being governor of the most liberal state in the country, but no national experience? Being governor of a purple state, with no national experience? Being mayor of a small mid-western city whose only national experience has been as a Cabinet secretary?Trump and his team would have a field day with this untested, unvetted new face whom most voters have never even heard of, much less know anything about.
4. The pundits keep conveniently failing to mention another critical sticking point, either because they don’t understand how politics and elections actually work or they know but assume you don’t. But I’m going to tell you, so now you’ll know something they’re not telling you:In fact, it is objectively impossible to replace Biden at this point and have any hope of winning the general election, regardless how young and sparkly and exciting his replacement is for at least one simple reason: Ballot Access. A new candidate can only get on state ballots after they are nominated. And by the time the new magical unicorn to be named later is nominated, the deadlines for getting on many state ballots will have passed, meaning it’s unlikely they’ll be on the ballots in enough states to win the Electoral College.Perhaps a massive write-in campaign can be launched, but therein lies another problem. See #5
5. The new Great White Hope candidate can’t run a successful campaign on fumes and fairy dust. It will take money. Lots and lots of money. Biden has lots and lots of money, more than enough to fund a kickass campaign. But that’s HIS campaign’s money and it can’t be transferred to another candidate or campaign.Which means the new guy or gal will have to start raising money from scratch. But they can only start after they’ve been officially nominated. Until then, they can’t ask for or spend a cent.They’ll need to raise about a billion dollars to catch up. And they’d have to raise it immediately – like in a few days. It took Biden, the sitting President of the United States, leader of the party, several years to raise that much money. His replacement would have to do that in a few days – while desperately trying to heal wounds and introduce themselves to the rest of the country.In fact, they’d have to raise MORE money than Biden because they’d have a much tougher campaign than he had – for example, trying to mount an all-out write-in effort after they missed the Ballot Access deadlines in most of the states.

So, as you can see, the Biden Replacement Theory is smoke and mirrors, a joke that’s not funny, that can’t happen and, even if it could, would only result in a massive and devastating loss for the Democrats, a loss from which the party, and more importantly, the country, would never recover.

So please stop listening to the bloviating pundits telling you that the so-called “insiders” are secretly telling them Biden must go, and use your own common sense to assess how this would all play out. You will then see that this notion is half-baked, at best, and cynical, manipulative, and hellbent for disaster at its worst.

At the end of the day, President Biden and Vice President Harris are not going to be replaced. But the negative chatter, speculation, and hand-wringing about it can drag them down and make it harder for them to win in November.

Stop feeding the madness and focus on doing everything you can to ensure that President Biden and Vice President Harris win the 270 electoral votes they need for reelection. They are our ONLY hope of turning this country away from Trump and his Republican extremists and keeping us on the right road. Pining for a perfect candidate – who does not, never did, and never will exist – is a dangerous distraction.

Keep your eyes on the prize.

The box is shaped like a treasure chest, about 18 inches long, 10 inches wide, 10 inches tall, dark distressed wood, wrapped in a copper ribbon and topped with a perfect, stiff copper bow. It once contained a Christmas present several years ago from a dear friend who, over many years, has given me lovely gifts – candles, a silver picture frame, a pink pashmina, crystal starfish, etc. – in containers so unique and interesting that I keep the boxes long after the gift has been used.

This particular box sits on a high shelf in my bedroom, serving as a decorative element that I could look at from time to time and think of my friend, our long friendship, and what he and that friendship mean to me.

But I wasn’t thinking about my friend or the box that morning when, while looking for something in a dresser drawer, I came across the plain, burgundy plastic container that had held the ashes of my dear Aunt Ginny for the past 25 years. As I often did, I told myself that I really should get her a proper urn because Aunt Ginny deserved more than to be tucked away in a drawer.

Aunt Ginny wasn’t really my aunt. She was more like a grandmother, but not quite that either. The wife of my father’s mentor, Virginia Dickerson was known by many, including Daddy and her husband, J. Maynard Dickerson, as “L’il Chief.” I’m not sure if that’s because she was the boss behind the scenes (although it’s hard to imagine anyone bossing Uncle Dick) or if there was some other origin of the moniker. But I always called her Aunt Ginny, probably the only person who did, just as no one else dared called J. Maynard “Uncle Dick” except the little girl who adored them.

Aunt Ginny and Uncle Dick didn’t have any children, so. Daddy was the closest thing they had to a son and that made me their only granddaughter. They were always wonderful to me, although Uncle Dick teased me mercilessly, calling me “FlipLip” because I talked so much.

When Daddy was a child, Uncle Dick, a prominent lawyer and publisher of the local Black newspaper, had taken Daddy under his wing and, in an uneasy collaboration with my grandmother, taught him much of what he needed to know to be the man he became. I later learned that he and Grammy butted heads a lot, with Grammy resenting the hold and influence Uncle Dick and Aunt Ginny had on her son. But Daddy was devoted to them and so was I.

In the summer of 1971, as we often did, my sister Pam and I spent a week with Aunt Ginny and Uncle Dick at their home in Columbus, sleeping in the big antique bed that once belonged to Aunt Ginny’s grandmother and seemed so huge and high and magnificent to me as a child. And, as she always did when we visited in the summer, Aunt Ginny took us to the Ohio State Fair.

But THIS time … The JACKSON 5 were playing!!!

Pam and I were beside ourselves at the thought of seeing our idols for the first time. We spent a lot of time preparing, carefully selecting our outfits: matching jumpsuits, hers was white with brown stripes, mine white with blue stripes. We knew we looked cute. And were sure that when we walked around the fair, we would run into the Jackson 5 and they would want to spend the day with us riding the rides and eating cotton candy and they would win us prizes and and try to sneak kisses and then ask us to be their girlfriends.

But first things first. The CONCERT. It was kind of a free-for-all – open seating, first-come-first served on the track, but Aunt Ginny got us there early and we managed to find a spot about halfway back. We stacked two wooden chairs on top of each other so we could get a better view and waited for Michael and Marlon and Jermaine and Tito and Jackie.

But we had to first endure the opening act. A woman named Yvonne Fair. OK. We’ll wait. 

Next up … The Jackson 5!!!

But no. There was ANOTHER opening act. A group named The Commodores. They had big afros and wore lime green uniforms. They were kind of cute, and the tall guy in the middle had a nice, easy style that caught our eye. But they were also pretty old. They looked to be in their 20s. Who are these guys? And why are they here? And why are they singing for so long? We didn’t come to see them.

If only I could step back in time and have a word with 12-year-old Steffie in that moment …

This is what I’d tell her:

See those guys up there? They are going to play a big role in your life.

Ten years from now, you’re going to be working for them. Not for long – about a year during college, before you go to law school and become a lawyer and do lots of other interesting things.

But what a year! You will be their secretary and work in their studio and answer their fan mail and babysit their dogs and keep them on schedule. You’ll go to lots of their concerts – and some of those concerts will be at state fairs just like this one.

And they’ll even introduce you to Michael Jackson.

And that tall guy in the middle?

His name is Lionel. And he’ll be your lifelong friend.

You will share old private jokes only the two of you think are funny and laugh together until you can’t breathe, and talk and talk for hours. You will climb up the side of his house to slide into an open window when you lock yourself out (in your swimsuit, no less) after an early morning swim in his pool. You’ll fly with him in a helicopter over Buckingham Palace. You’ll ride together to the cemetery to bury the first Commodore to die.

You will come to know his family and he will become part of yours. He will love and revere Daddy and he will grieve with and comfort you when Daddy dies (don’t worry – that will be many many years from now).

You will confide in each other, fight with each other, sometimes stop speaking to each other, but always come back together because you’re the kind of friends who never stop loving each other and who will always be attached by the invisible string.

And over the years, he will remember your birthday and Christmas with lovely presents. Presents that come in very special boxes that, even empty, are gifts themselves …

Including a beautiful treasure chest-shaped box wrapped in a copper ribbon and stiff copper bow that you suddenly realized one morning is absolutely the perfect size for Aunt Ginny’s ashes.

And whenever you look at the box that now nestles Aunt Ginny as if specially made just for her, you will think of how deeply you cherish your precious friend, whom you first saw when you were 12 years old that time Aunt Ginny took you to see the Jackson 5 at the Ohio State Fair.

And you will be reminded, once again, how the invisible strings of friendship, family, love, and fate have woven a perfect vessel that carries and protects you through this improbable, but inevitable, life …

But does Steffie really need to know any of that now?

Nah …

Just enjoy the concert, little girl.