"Dear Democrats... Stop fretting and second-guessing... The great blues artist Muddy Waters put it best: 'You can't spend what you ain't got. You can't lose what you ain't never had.'"

Writes Eugene Robinson in "Democrats Have Nothing to Lose -- but a Majority (Or Two) to Win" (Real Clear Politics).

The appropriation of Muddy Waters for Democratic Party politics is irksome. That song came out in 1964. Lyrics here. Waters sang about losing "a pretty little girl," his "money in the bank," and his "sweet little home," then consoles himself with the line "You can't lose what you ain't never had."



When I heard the first verse, about the girl, I thought he was admitting that he never "had" the girl and he was looking at the bright side: At least he didn't lose her. But when I got to the money and home verses, it's clear that he had those things, so he must have had and lost the girl too, and the meaning of "You can't lose what you ain't never had" must be something like: 1. At least I once had these things (which can be reworded "Tis better to have loved and lost/Than never to have loved at all" or, more mundanely, It's better to be a has-been than a never-was), or 2. What I thought was good wasn't even good, because it only set me up to feel the pain of losing (basically, the opposite of #1).

In Robinson's use of the song, the man, with his elemental personal needs (love, money, and shelter), is replaced by a conglomerate, a party, and its drive for political power. The man lost what he had and is comparing his predicament to that of a person who never had anything. But in Robinson's deployment of the line, the political party ought to feel motivated by the idea that it has nothing now and therefore has nothing to lose. He says, "Democrats, who have so little to defend, can and should play offense with abandon."

Now, it seems less Muddy Waters and more football. The best defense is a good offense. Ah, there's a Wikipedia article on the subject. And it's not as football-based as I'd thought:

George Washington wrote in 1799: "…make them believe, that offensive operations, often times, is the surest, if not the only (in some cases) means of defence".

Mao Zedong opined that "the only real defense is active defense", meaning defense for the purpose of counter-attacking and taking the offensive. Often success rests on destroying the enemy's ability to attack. This principle is paralleled in the writings of Machiavelli and Sun Tzu.

Some martial arts emphasise attack over defense. Wing chun, for example, is a style of kung fu which uses the maxim: "The hand which strikes also blocks."

During World War I, Germany planned to attack France so as to quickly knock it out of the war, thereby reducing the Entente's numerical superiority and to free up German troops to head east and defeat Russia.

That has so little to do with what Muddy Waters was singing the blues about, but is it what Robinson is trying to explain? The column is padded out with the usual things — Trump is awful and the Democrats need to get out the vote. Then Robinson offers the advice "Don't be dour and doubtful, Democrats. Be joyous and determined," which seems more "Happy Days Are Here Again" than Muddy Waters singing the blues.

In his penultimate sentence, Robinson tries to drag the Waters line in again: "Stop worrying about losing what you 'ain't got' and focus on winning elections district by district, state by state." But in the song it's not "ain't got" — despite those quotes — it's "ain't never had." That it's "ain't never had"  doesn't seem to matter to Robinson. I suppose that's because he's a politics guy, and the meaning of words and the value of art don't count for much.

Robinson has one more sentence: "Don't let Republicans bluff you into folding. You're playing a very good hand." Now, the metaphor is poker, and now, the Democrats have got something, "a very good hand." How utterly tedious.

But I presume it's tedious for Robinson too. He's been writing in newspapers for 42 years. I looked up his Wikipedia page. He began his professional career writing about the Patty Hearst trial.

"The worst thing you can possibly do in a deal is seem desperate to make it... That makes the other guy smell blood, and then you're dead."

Wrote Trump in "The Art of the Deal." Also: "Know when to walk away from the table."

I'm reading these quotes in yesterday's Washington Post, in "Trump’s health care ultimatum is straight out of ‘The Art of the Deal.’ It just might work."

But is anyone talking about Trump's "walk away" approach today, after the ultimatum failed? Or is everyone saying: Trump failed. And: So much for the "Art of the Deal." And: Trump got a stark elementary education in the complicated reality of Washington politics — that art-of-the-deal stuff doesn't fit the exquisite complexity of Congress.

The "walk away" strategy isn't just a bluff, is it? Sometimes, you really do walk away. Long term, that builds your game, doesn't it? Or, maybe it's wrong to say "just a bluff," because in poker, if you need your opponents to think you bluff, so they'll stay in when you've got a good hand. Poker bluffing is not a good analogy for what Trump did in saying the vote had to happen on Friday or that was the end. What corresponds to the hidden hand? All that's hidden is whether Trump really will declare it over if those hearing the ultimatum don't believe this really is their last chance. They know what the bill is, and if they decide not to vote for it because they want something else, then Trump might follow through with his threat and back out. But the balky members of Congress are the ones who are staying in and taking the risk that Trump won't stay in, so they seem to be the ones doing the bluffing. Isn't it Trump who's in the position of a poker player who folds because he thinks the other guy has a better hand?*

Whether poker bluffing is a good analogy or not, we still need to think about how well Trump's approach to Congress is working. In this analysis, we need to think about what Trump really wants. I'm not sure. He may want to fulfill a campaign promise, but that promise was always contingent on Congress doing what he wants, and it's questionable whether the bill was even what he promised. If nothing passes, it ends an intra-party fight, a fight that would have continued into the Senate, straight into the wheelhouse of Rand Paul...

Tonight I joined members of the @freedomcaucus to discuss how to defeat Obamacare Lite. #FullRepeal pic.twitter.com/a7adpmL3zB

— Senator Rand Paul (@RandPaul) March 16, 2017

... who likes to stand in front of a poster with Trump's "Art of the Deal" words on it.

But I'm not sure Trump wanted to keep that promise. I think maybe he could see that there would be terrible problems under any bill that might pass, and that his name (and his party's name) would be on all those problems — which the Democrats and their many friends in the media would elaborate and amplify in the run up to the mid-term elections.

With the bill rejected — swiftly thrown away in a grand gesture — Obamacare remains, and the coming problems are all (or mostly) on the Democrats. They passed that slow-toppling disaster, with no buy-in from Republicans, and they refused to participate in the earnest effort to save America from the collapse.

I don't think Trump gave up. He saw a better path and set up a quick way to get on it.

Now, I expect that the media will belabor the defeat and the proof that Trump is no artist of the deal and that Trump will get moving on different, better, happier deals like walls and airports — tangible, buildable things.

"There were people who were put on that list because the Nixon people — very shrewdly, I think — sense from their life style that they were enemies."

"Joe Namath has never said anything political in his life, but they knew he was unreliable. To them, a guy who will flaunt dames and have a bar and look the way he does is clearly a guy who'll flout authority, and they don't like that. There's a Nixon way of doing everything. And the essence of totalitarianism is precisely that: in a totalitarian society there's a state way of doing everything — mathematics, forestry, sex. I think that's what the enemies list was all about — enforcing a kind of orthodoxy in everything. I'm certainly not saying that these guys were Nazis, but they operated like Nazis. James Reston, Jr.... wrote to Albert Speer and got a very interesting letter back. Naturally, it's hedged with comments about how reluctant he is to comment on the American political situation, but the parallels Speer points to between Nixon and the Nazi White Houses are remarkable — the same loyalty to the leader without any consideration of ideology, the same drawing of power into a tiny, isolated group, even the same shielding of the leader by giving him only a prepared news summary. You know, I've read a lot of biographies of Nixon, and they all seem to agree on one thing — that he really was an uncommonly good poker player. I think I've figured out why. It's that he always looks as though he's bluffing. You've got three kinds up and he raises, and you look at his face and you think, 'Nah, he doesn't have the aces.' But he'd look exactly the same if he didn't have them. He's always bluffing. There's no reality. A strange man — but awfully dangerous."

Said Frank Mankiewicz, interviewed in the November 19, 1973 issue of The New Yorker. Mankiewicz, who had been Robert F. Kennedy’s press secretary and who directed George McGovern’s 1972 presidential campaign, died yesterday at the age of 90. From the obituary:

A scion of Hollywood, the son of Herman J. Mankiewicz, who wrote “Citizen Kane,” and the nephew of Joseph L. Mankiewicz, who directed “All About Eve,” he grew up with an Algonquin West round table in his Beverly Hills household, regaled by movie stars, famous writers and comedians like the Marx Brothers.

What a lucky man!

"He despised canned cranberry sauce, wearing shorts, cigarette butts in his driveway, oatmeal, loud-mouth know-it-alls, Tabasco sauce, reality TV shows, and anything to do with the Kardashians."

From an obituary for Raymond Alan "Big Al" Brownley, sent to me by a reader familiar with my long-term "men in shorts" theme.

... Big Al had many loves, too. He loved his wife... He also dearly loved his children and grandchildren... He also loved milk shakes, fried shrimp, the Steelers, the Playboy channel, Silky's Gentlemens Club, taking afternoon naps in his recliner, hanging out at the VFW, playing poker, eating jelly beans by the handful, and his hunting dogs — his favorite being Holly Hill Rip Van Winkle, a loyal beagle that answered to the nickname of Rip.... His fondness of spaghetti Westerns was only surpassed by his love of bacon, beer and butter pecan ice cream. He fondly reminisced about good friends, good drinks and good times at the Tri-Valley Sportsmens Club in Burgettstown. He was a long-time member of the Elks Club in McKees Rocks where he frequently bartended and generously donated his tips to charity. Quite a teller of tales, Big Al's elaborate stories often were punctuated with the phrase, "And that's when I kicked his ass." He enjoyed outlaw country music: Waylon, Willie, Hank, Johnny. He was also on a first-name basis with the Four Horsemen of liquor: Jack, Jim, Johnnie and Jose....

Read the whole thing. And goodbye to Big Al, who was 82.

"Judge rips feds in Sherrod-Breitbart lawsuit."

Now, this is interesting. From Josh Gerstein at Politico:

A federal judge delivered a severe tongue-lashing to a Justice Department lawyer Thursday, slamming the Obama Administration for its handling of demands for government records in the libel lawsuit fired Agriculture Department employee Shirley Sherrod filed against conservative blogger Andrew Breitbart.

During a 40-minute hearing, U.S. District Court Judge Richard Leon repeatedly ripped into the government and DOJ trial counsel David Glass for resisting requests from both sides in the case for government files and e-mails that might be of use in the litigation....

Release the email! We here in Wisconsin are deluged with internal emails relating to Scott Walker. Freedom of information is a bitch.

At the outset of Thursday's hearing, Leon lit into Glass for filing a 21-page statement outlining the government's position—a filing submitted electronically just after midnight Thursday along with a stack of nine exhibits. The judge called it "a self-serving pleading, not requested by anyone" and repeatedly suggested it was filed for "public relations" reasons rather than because it might be useful to the court....

"This is not a typical case.....This case involves someone who was fired by a cabinet officer....The government is not going to be able to slow roll this case," the judge insisted.

Leon, by the way, is the judge who ruled last December that the NSA surveillance program is a likely violation of the 4th Amendment, saying "I cannot imagine a more 'indiscriminate' and 'arbitrary invasion' than this systematic and high-tech collection and retention of personal data on virtually every citizen...." He's a George W. Bush appointee and a former law clerk to Justice Clarence Thomas.

"Slow roll" is an intriguing expression to hear from a judge. It seems to originate in poker and to refer to some annoying taunting approaches to revealing your winning hand.

ADDED: Instapundit says:

I believe I said when this suit was filed that the discovery was likely to be interesting. If DOJ is stonewalling, it must be.

David Lat, quoting the government's memo, says:

The government is willing to produce the evidence that is directly relevant to matters actually at issue in the litigation. But as a non-party, it doesn’t want to get dragged into this mess more than necessary....

Eighty-three categories of document requests, plus a raft of deposition subpoenas, issued to a third party? This sounds a bit like a fishing expedition to me.

This is the post where I try to understand what Andrew Sullivan means by "Meep Meep Watch."

This Sullivan post is some kind of defense of Obama that deploys a Roadrunner analogy. I know Road Runner is the source of the "meep meep," as the illustration of Roadrunner makes clear, and adding "watch" is a way Sullivan has of indicating that he's collecting things in a category.

So I understand that he's on the alert for Road-Runner-like activity. My working theory is that he's saying that Obama is like Road Runner, which would mean that he's got an enemy trying to destroy him and he keeps escaping destruction — by speed and/or extreme good luck. The enemy's efforts always backfire, and Obama/Road Runner, escaping one more time, emits a cry of glee — meep meep.

Sullivan begins:

It’s worth recalling the glee with which many hacks determined that the Obama presidency was over before the second term had really kicked in, well, only a month ago. 

So the cry of glee comes from Obama's enemies — The Hacks. Is it also worth recalling the other hacks who — a month before that — gleefully announced that the GOP had committed suicide? Sullivan notes the various troubles Obama has encountered — which were not traps set by his American political rivals at all: Healthcare.gov, Syria, Iran, the economy. He continues:

But it’s worth digesting how all these alleged disasters have settled down. 

We seem to be inside a digestive tract. It seems we've managed not to vomit. Sullivan proceeds to say things are looking better. And he ends like this:

The GOP remains utterly devoid of any constructive alternative to Obamacare, whose winners have been far less vocal – so far – than the winners. 

Is that "winners... winners" some kind of humor that escapes me — like a bird outrunning a falling rock — or just a thudding mistake?

The president is on the offensive – on economic inequality and healthcare. 

On the offensive... so he's the Coyote?

It’s far too soon to project anything certain. But what we sure can say is that a huge amount is still to play for.

What I can sure say is I'm pretty sure Obama must be the Road Runner in this analogy but... why? A huge amount is still to play for.... suggests we're at a gambling table. Road Runner, the cartoon character, doesn't even realize he's got a relentless enemy trying to destroy him. He's oblivious and lucky. You can't picture Road Runner transferring his kind of luck to, say, poker, where one squarely faces the opponent and must make decisive moves based on a known set of rules.

Sullivan's analogies and metaphors are a crazy quilt of a mixed bag of bouillabaise.

Only now will I do a "meep meep" search on Sullivan. I tried tracing the hits back to the beginning and — having opened 20+ tabs — encountered a demand to subscribe to the website. I'll stick to the tabs I've got. From September 15th, there's "Meep Meep, Motherfuckers," which has a photo of Obama looking very smug, a quote about Syria from Obama, Sullivan's exclamation "Oh, snap!" and then:

It’s been awesome to watch today as all the jerking knees quieted a little...

Do jerking knees make a noise like cracking knuckles? Can we watch quiet the way we listen to the color of our dreams?

... and all the instant judgments of the past month ceded to a deeper acknowledgment (even among Republicans) of what had actually been substantively achieved: something that, if it pans out, might be truly called a breakthrough – not just in terms of Syria, but also in terms of a better international system, and in terms of Iran.

The post ends:

So it was another treat to hear the president say, in tones that are unmistakable:

“I welcome him being involved. I welcome him saying, ‘I will take responsibility for pushing my client, the Assad regime, to deal with these chemical weapons.’ ”

Meep meep.

A treat? Sullivan feels he received a treat in hearing Obama say something that he paraphrases as the Road Runner's cry of glee at escaping another Coyote trap. But what is Road-Runneresque about Obama welcoming Putin's involvement, as if Obama is inviting Putin into an elaborate game in which we can't tell who will ultimately get played?

Here's a "Meep Meep Watch" from September 2012:

Has Obama now done to the entire GOP what he did to the Clintons, McCain and Romney? Make them somehow self-destruct? Know hope – and I haven’t said that in a while.

This one gives some clarity to what Sullivan seems to think he's seeing: a magical ability to luck into the self-destruction of one's enemies. It's like Bill Clinton's "He's Luckier Than A Dog With Two Dicks."

ADDED: Let's look at the official rules that Chuck Jones had for Road Runner, as explained in "Chuck Amuck: The Life and Times of an Animated Cartoonist."

1. The Road Runner cannot harm the coyote except by going "Beep-beep!" 

So, it's not "meep meep" at all, which just goes to show how wrong you can be.

2. No outside force can harm the coyote—only his own ineptitude or the failure of the Acme products.
3. The coyote can stop any time—if he were not a fanatic. (Repeat: "A fanatic is one who redoubles his effort when he has forgotten his aim."–George Santayana; this quote appears on a promotional poster featuring the duo; with the quote appearing in Burma Shave-style clips on signs amid the roadrunner's air wake)
4. There may be no dialogue ever, except "beep-beep!" The coyote may, however, speak to the audience through wooden signs that he holds up.
5. The Road Runner must stay on the road —otherwise, logically, he would not be called "Road Runner".
6. All action must be confined to the natural environment of the two characters—the southwest American desert.
7. All materials, tools, weapons, or mechanical conveniences must be obtained from the Acme Corporation.
8. Whenever possible, gravity should be made the coyote's greatest enemy.
9. The coyote is always more humiliated than harmed by his failures.
There was also a tenth and more unofficial rule: The sympathy of the audience must lie with the coyote.

The sympathy of the audience must lie with the coyote!

I was going to make a list titled 9 Things Justice Scalia said in his New York Magazine interview.

Most interviews with Supreme Court Justices are not even worth that. The Justices say such predictable things that I might pull out the most interesting thing or, not finding one, I skip blogging it altogether. But this interview by Jennifer Senior is so good (and long) that as I read it (before getting out of bed just now) I decided I'd pull out 9 items (the number 9 pops into my head when I'm thinking about Supreme Court Justices) and do something like:

1. He calls DVDs "CDs" (and the "CDs" in question are episodes of "Seinfeld").

2. He thinks "blurbing" on the internet is narcissistic and interferes with the process of becoming a good writer.

3. He's most proud of his opinion in Morrison v. Olson (where he's the lone dissenter in the decision that found the Independent Counsel law constitutional).

4. He thinks Congress is truly dangerous — if only it would actually use the powers it has.

5. He's not "a fan of different levels of scrutiny" in constitutional interpretation.

6. He believes in the Devil, because it's Catholic doctrine, but maybe because it's a helpful metaphor.

7. He plays poker, claims to be good at poker, but is unfamiliar with the term "tell."

8. He has friends that he knows or "very much suspect[s]" are homosexual, and doesn't like the interviewer's suggestion that — re homosexuality — he's "softened."

9. To imitate Rehnquist, he "turns his nose up theatrically, flutters his hand in dismissal."

There are more than 9 things worth treating that way...

10. You have to be very careful picking law clerks because "one dud will ruin your year."

11. His dissents have the tone they do — "breezy" and with "some thrust" — because they're written for law students and law students will read that sort of thing.

12. Back in the 80s, Supreme Court opinions were loaded with the "garbage" of legislative history (and they're not anymore, and he takes credit for that).

13. He wants the Catholic Church to be more evangelistic.

14. He blames "The Gipper" for turning the State of the Union Address into the "childish spectacle" it's become.

15. He likes Bill Bennett's radio show.

16. He won't read The Washington Post anymore because it became so "shrilly, shrilly liberal" that he can't "handle it."

17. The worst thing about the Constitution, he thinks, is that it's way too hard to amend it.

18. He "repudiate[s]" his old statement that his originalism is "fainthearted."

But I decided (at the point of finally getting out of bed) that I wanted to do a series of posts on a number of topics, taking them on individually and blogging — or blurbing — my way through and going somewhere with the idea. It's the Devil topic in particular that made me want to do that. I know there are people who are linking to this interview just to say Scalia believes in the Devil, but — is the Devil making me do this? — I feel there's a lot in his discussion of the Devil that needs to be taken apart and examined. The blog will blurb and burble.

ADDED: Here's the promised Devil post. And here's a post about a topic that isn't represented on that list of 18 things.

"Scandal! Caught playing iPhone game at 3+ hour Senate hearing - worst of all I lost!"

Tweets John McCain, who was photographed playing video poker during the Senate Foreign Relations Committee hearing on the proposed military attack on Syria.

Is it okay to play games to deal with tedium when the subject is war? If caught in the act, is it better to apologize and stress the seriousness of the hearing or to crack a joke? Worst of all I lost.... worst of all, you are taking us to war!

To be honest, if I needed to pay attention to John Kerry's talking, it would help to play video solitaire. I wouldn't want to be seen doing it, though, if I were a decisionmaker, but I do understand how this minimal, partial diversion of attention keeps you mind from drifting into thoughts that would interfere with listening.

The new science of poker playing.

"This growth over the past decade has been accompanied by a profound change in how the game is played. Concepts from the branch of mathematics known as game theory have inspired new ideas in poker strategy and new advice for ordinary players."

Is Nate Silver "concerned that during future elections, the accuracy of your predictions will lull readers into a mindset of 'it has been foretold, therefore I needn’t bother to vote'"?

Yes, "a bit."

Did Nate Silver "enjoy getting the ire of pundits (not the few who actually critiqued your method, models, or assumptions, but those who just dismissed your work wholesale)"?

At some point in the last few weeks of the election, I guess I decided to lean into the upside outcome a little bit in terms of pushing back at the pundits in my public appearances — as opposed to emphasizing the uncertainty in the model, as I had for most of the year....

Stupid poker analogy: part of playing well is in maximizing the amount of value you get from a hand in the event that things go well, in addition to mitigating your losses if they don't.

"Ultimately the question is, does 'mankind' really need men?"

"With human cloning technology just around the corner and enough frozen sperm in the world to already populate many generations, perhaps we should perform a cost-benefit analysis."

[W]omen live longer, are healthier and are far less likely to commit a violent offense. If men were cars, who would buy the model that doesn’t last as long, is given to lethal incidents and ends up impounded more often?

That's from the NYT, which is, of course, written for women. Stuff like this is considered light entertainment. It will be interspersed with serious articles about the "war on women." Enjoy!

***

That last link goes to a search within the NYT for "war on women." I was amused by the old things that popped up.

From 1927: "Berlin Men War on Women Who 'Doll Up' at Meals."

Also 1927: "Stanley (Wis.) Bachelors War On Nuptial Lures by Women." (I don't want to buy the article, but I can see this snippet: "... of Stanley have declared 'war on women.' An organization has been tentatively for 'mutual protection from devices now used by the fair sex to entangle single...'")

1911: "WAR ON WOMEN GAMBLERS.; Chicago Detective Visits Fashionable Houses to Stop Poker Games." ("Chief of Police McWeeny declared war to-day on poker playing by women in private.")

1972: "The Church's War on Women." ("Pope Paul VI has reaffirmed the rules of priestly celibacy and debarred women from formal investiture by bishops in Roman Catholic orders. There were to be no female deacons, let alone female priests.")

1943: "Dr. Mead, Anthropologist, Reports On Effect of War on Women's Garb; She Tells Members of Fashion Group, Inc., That Utility Clothes in England Will Do Much to Reduce Class Consciousness." (What? Again I'm not paying to get to the article, but, Googling, I found a Smithsonian article saying that during WWII, the U.S. and British commands commissioned Margaret Mead to try to figure out why American and British soldiers had trouble understanding each other. She discovered that the British couldn't answer the question what's your favorite color without getting all complicated about it and concluded it had to do with their class consciousness.)

Most apt, when it comes to the 2012 election, is this February 2011 editorial, "The War on Women."

These are treacherous times for women’s reproductive rights and access to essential health care. House Republicans mistakenly believe they have a mandate to drastically scale back both even as abortion warfare is accelerating in the states. To stop them, President Obama’s firm leadership will be crucial. So will the rising voices of alarmed Americans.

I'm guessing that the current usage of the term began right there.

Live-blogging the Republican Debate.

Come! Hang out here. My son John is live-blogging too. He's great at this, so check him out.

7:04 — Somehow, CNN is incorporating the Tea Party. We'll see how that works.

7:06 — Thumping music. And everyone's in a black suit tonight. Kind of scary... but finally a lady! It's Michele Bachmann, in a red jacket. For a while there, I thought it was going to turn into a boxing match.

7:07 — WTF? The National Anthem precedes a debate? This is making me want to switch over to the Brewers game. Is CNN all hot to prove it's patriotic? Ridiculous!

7:09 — Santorum and Romney mouth the anthem. Perry looks staunchly patriotic. This is soooo cheeseball. The singer goes all angry-face. Freeeeeeeeeee! Yikes. Give me a break. CNN has set this up to repel us.

7:12 — Introductory statements. Blah.

7:15 — "President Obama stole over $500 from Medicare for Obamacare" — says Bachmann.

7:16 — Perry assures the oldies they'll have Social Security. But "this is a broken system" — and lots of other people have called it a Ponzi scheme.

7:18 — Mitt Romney challenges Perry for saying SS shouldn't even be a federal matter, that it's unconstitutional. Does Perry want to retreat from that? Perry does retreat, saying we mainly need to "have a conversation" about it. Romney pushes him again and asserts it's "an essential program." Perry hits him back with his own statement, that it's criminal. The audience is so supportive of Perry, cheering every Perry jab.

7:20 — I think CNN's scheme is to have packed the audience with the Tea Party faithful, making it a cheering section for Rick Perry. It's a bit irritating. I think Mitt knows what's happening, and he has a great opportunity to show that he can keep his bearings.

7:31 — Funny how no one will take away the seniors' drug benefit.  Even Paul. "We shouldn't have voted for it..." but we can't cut it.

7:40 — The American economy will "take off like a rocket ship" if you let small business folk get a return on their investment, says Romney. Pushed by Blitzer, Perry blurts out a slogan: "People are tired of spending money we don't have on programs we don't want."

7:43 — Romney says there are 7 things we need to do. He's counting them off. Are we going to be tested on this?

7:45 — "If you're dealt 4 aces, that doesn't necessarily make you a great poker player," quips Romney, asked how much credit Perry deserves for all his accomplishments in Texas. Apparently, Texas is the 4 aces. He ticks off 4 attributes of Texas. This could be an amusing Romney tic: numbered lists.

7:46 — Perry has some nicely Reaganesque speech cadences. Works well to make Romney seem rabbit-y.

7:48 — "There are people comin' to Texas — for 5 years in a row, the number 1 destination — they're not comin' because we're overtaxing them. They're comin' to Texas because they know there's still a land of freedom in America, freedom from overtaxation, freedom from overlitigation, and freedom from overregulation, and it's called Texas. We need to do the same thing for America." Well spoken! By Rick Perry.

7:50 — Huntsman says, no, it's Utah that is the best state of all.

7:59 — Bachmann wants to put the Federal Reserve on "such at tight leash that they will squeak."

8:00  — Perry stands by his "almost treasonous" remark, referring to the use of the Federal Reserve for political purposes. Think that's inflammatory? I don't. I think it's rather bland. And I love the total unrufflability of Perry. He seems so happy too, even as he represents viewpoints normally considered angry. I like his temperament. I think. Or is it a little odd?

8:01 —A young guys asks a classic question: "Out of every dollar that I earn, how much do you think I deserve to keep?"

8:13 — Very intense disagreement over inoculating schoolgirls against cervical cancer. Bachmann, Perry, and Santorum all sounded strong, even as Perry had to concede he's made a mistake. Bachmann accuses Perry of being bought for $5,000 and Perry says he's insulted that she'd think he could be bought so cheaply.

8:15 — John writes: "Perry keeps defending his HPV vaccination law by saying, 'My goal was to fight cancer,' and 'I will always err on the side of life.' Isn't that exactly the same principle used by supporters of government-sponsored health care, which Perry presumably thinks is tyrannical?"

8:22 — Michele Bachmann is on fire: "2012 is it. This is the election that's going to decide if we have socialized medicine in this country or not."

8:34 — Huntsman accuses Perry of treason for saying we can't secure the border. And just before that, Perry got a lot of boos for defending the Texas law that lets young people in Texas illegally pay in-state tuition at public colleges.

8:35 — Romney takes a tough position on illegal immigration. "Of course we build a fence."

8:51 — What would you bring to the White House? Perry says, "the most beautiful, most thoughtful, incredible First Lady that this country has ever seen — Anita." That seems to overshadow the ones that went before, making it hard for Romney, who follows, not to promote his wife, but Romney does well, saying he'd bring back the bust of Winston Churchill.

8:52 — Huntsman will bring his Harley Davidson. Does he win the quien-es-mas-macho game?

9:00 — So... what did you think? Ron Paul empathizing with al Qaeda was a bit... off. Perry lost some ground with the rowdy crowd by empathizing with undocumented aliens. Huntsman and Bachmann were feisty. Perry was solid and articulate. Romney was fine. Cain, Santorum, Newt... they got their statements in well enough, but I can't see them as serious contenders.

"Don’t call my bluff."

It's what Obama said when he stormed out of the debt-talks yesterday. Let's analyze it. Glenn Reynolds says:

UM, ISN’T THIS A CASE OF CALLING YOUR OWN BLUFF?... I mean, I’m not a big poker player, but I thought the point of a bluff is not to admit it’s a bluff . . . .

UPDATE: “I’d love to play poker with him. Does he know that it’s played with cards?”

I'd say the biggest problem with the poker metaphor is that it characterizes the talks as a game... and, more particularly, a game in which, on any given hand, somebody wins the whole pot. At the point in poker where you make a comment like "Don’t call my bluff," you are trying to lure the other player into making the wrong decision so you can win it all. In the ultra-serious debt negotiations, where supposedly the 2 sides are engaging in give and take to reach a consensus for the sake of the people, it's bad to reveal that you see it as a game and you're trying to win it... for yourself.

Now, there's also the question whether someone who plays poker competently would use the phrase "Don’t call my bluff." Glenn is right that you don't want the other player to know when you are bluffing, but saying "Don’t call my bluff" isn't admitting you're bluffing. Indeed, if you were playing with someone who thought it was, saying "Don’t call my bluff" would be a great way to get them not to fold when you have an excellent hand. You could just as well say the opposite — "Call my bluff" — in the same situation for the same reason. The other player has the same problem he has when you don't say anything at all — when you keep a poker face: He doesn't know what you have.

Think about when someone outside of a poker game might use the phrase "Don’t call my bluff." Meade and I were talking about that and he said: It's something a father would say. "Son, don't call my bluff." In other words: Do you think I'm kidding? Try me. Within some father-son relationships, that's a very powerful move. The father is demanding obedience, and the son is afraid of what will happen if he does not accede to his father's demands. The father isn't saying what the consequence will be, but the fear of the father's power is enough to make the son comply. He can't risk finding out. It's a test of parental authority.

And we know Obama would like us to see him in that fatherly role. He would like to have our compliance because he knows best. Eat your peas.

"It’s as if borrowers are playing in a poker game in which they are the only ones who think bluffing is unethical."

An analogy.

Mary Elizabeth Althouse, a 12-year-old girl in 1917.

Paintdancer reads an old diary -- "the daily writings of 12 year old Mary Elizabeth Althouse, daughter of Elmer and Margaret Althouse of Sellersville, Pa." -- her husband bought for 50¢ at a garage sale:

I found it utterly amazing that she invariably ended up in bed at around 11:30PM or 12 AM every night after a day that was chock full of activities that didn’t include TV, the Internet, movies, organized team sports for girls, or visits to the King of Prussia mall! I’d certainly have thought that kids back then were in bed by 8 o’clock out of sheer boredom!

Mary warmed my heart because she seemed to have been an old-fashioned girl much like another Mary I knew all too well- very studious, musical and creative.

Her time was totally filled with school, studies, music lessons, church activities, tatting, embroidering, painting, drawing, a scrapbook, a stamp collection, crocheting, making a pocketbook for mama, candy for friends and playing rook with her brother Sam when he came home from his college (Cornell?) in Ithaca....

This child was obviously from a somewhat privileged family, since the family’s frequent jaunts to the theatre in Philadelphia and shopping outings to Allentown were unusual in an era where auto trips were likely a luxury. Yet, beyond those hints of a refined lifestyle, there was much within the scope of her daily activities that painted a picture of a child who was not merely cultured and well-educated, but who also had to contribute to household chores that included lawn mowing, flower planting, ironing clothes and baking goodies for the preacher’s new tenants, as well as going with mama to visit the sick and elderly.

This demonstrated to me that a privileged child need not be just an entitled child, as much of today’s affluent kids seem to be.

I also observed that Mary wrote almost nothing about her own feelings, thoughts and opinions. Her entry on Thursday, January 4th, 1917 surprised me:

Fair weather today. Went to school. Took my music lesson after school. Mrs. Krug was here for supper. Cousin Helen’s baby suffocated. Spent the evening at home, crocheting and studying. Retired at half past ten.

How strange that she didn’t comment about her feelings regarding the death of the baby! Was it because a woman’s thoughts and opinions meant so little in those days? She recorded the ritualistic performance of her daily mundane feminine tasks of sewing, tatting, baking, etc. with a conscientiousness that would be unusual in a twelve-year-old today. Yet she failed to express one iota of sadness or concern about her second cousin’s untimely death! Why???????????

ADDED: Playing rook? Ah!

Rook is a trick-taking game, usually played with a specialized deck of cards. Sometimes referred to as "Christian cards" or "missionary poker," Rook playing cards were introduced sometime in the 20th century....

The Rook deck consists of 57 cards: a blue Rook Bird card, similar to a joker, and 56 cards divided into four suits, or colors. Each suit—black, red, yellow, and green—is made up of cards numbered 1 through 14.

AND: The brief entry about the smothered baby reminds me of this passage in Sarah Vowell's "The Wordy Shipmates" (which, btw, I highly recommend -- especially the audio version):

[John Winthrop's] earliest American journal entries are understandably brief. "Monday we kept a court," reads one. "My son, Henry Winthrop, was drowned at Salem," says another.

Joe Klein's scurrilous meltdown.

Time's Joe Klein openly reviles John McCain for saying:

This is a clear choice that the American people have. I had the courage and the judgment to say I would rather lose a political campaign than lose a war. It seems to me that Obama would rather lose a war in order to win a political campaign.

McCain basically added a sharp twist to one of his usual statements. The usual statement is touting his own aptitude and honor. The twist is to accuse Obama of the opposite.

Here's Klein:

I can't remember a more scurrilous statement by a major party candidate. It smacks of desperation. It renews questions about whether McCain has the right temperament for the presidency. How sad.

I can't remember a more scurrilous statement by a major journalist. It smacks of desperation. It renews questions about whether Klein has the right temperament for Time Magazine. How sad.

Whatever.

Here's what I see. Klein is trying to generate a big outrage to distract us from McCain's solid point. McCain said we had to win the war, he pushed for the surge, the surge worked, and now we will have that victory that he would not give up on. Obama said the war was hopeless, we'd have to accept loss, and the surge would only waste more lives.

That is a huge, huge difference. And that is what McCain was referring to. It could have been put even more sharply.

If Klein wants to get all outraged about something, he should get outraged retrospectively about how Obama and many Democrats were ready and even eager to embrace defeat. If Klein wants to worry about who is unsuited for the presidency, he ought to recognize that if Obama had been President two years ago, we would have suffered a humiliating defeat in Iraq that would have repercussions for decades.

And Klein thinks it's "desperation" to urge us to face that crucial reality, which is what McCain did? Desperation — which is recklessness arising from the utter lack of hope — is what Obama had about the Iraq war.

Klein updates his post:

The reality is that neither Barack Obama nor Nouri al-Maliki nor most anybody else believes that the Iraq war can be "lost" at this point.

The point is that Obama's judgment would have led this country to jump headlong into defeat. We now must decide if we want this man making choices about things that will arise in the future. Why is it necessary to spell it out again and again that we need to use past judgments to predict future judgments about new matters? I feel like an annoying pedant saying this again. But the reason it's necessary is that journalists like Klein are covering for Obama.

Talk about "sad." That's sad.

The reality is that no matter who is elected President, we are looking at a residual U.S. force of 30-50,000 by 2011 (a year ahead of the previous schedule). The reality is that McCain should be proud that he helped salvage a disastrous situation by pushing the counterinsurgency plan. It's something to run on. But, at this point, McCain must sense that it's not a winning hand. Obama, the poker player, has drawn to an inside straight: the Iraqis favor his plan over McCain's long-term bases. That must be galling. But it's no excuse to pop off the way McCain did. It was, shockingly, unpresidential.

Oh, stop your idiotic gasping, Klein, and see what you just did! You reinforced McCain's point. You see the campaign for the presidency as a game to be won and the war as something to play with. McCain would rather lose a political campaign than lose a war. If his insistence that we win the war now brings him defeat, while the man who chose defeat in the war wins the presidency, that is what McCain saw all along. To think, wow, he must really be pissed off about the way that played out is to show how you think, Klein.

Note: I am only reading McCain's statement and have not seen the video or heard the audio. Perhaps he's yelling and carrying on in a way that would justify Klein's use of "meltdown" and "pop off" and "shockingly unpresidential." But Klein's text emphasizes the "statement" and has no description of his tone of voice, facial expression, or gestures, so I am assuming it's all based on McCain's words.

ADDED: Confirming the assumption I just made, here's the video (via Americablog):



There is absolutely nothing angry or out-of-control about this statement. As for the line, which seems scripted, it's a strong line. I can see why Klein and his ilk are trying to scare McCain out of using it.

AND: McCain uses the line in this video. (Via Gateway Pundit.) This is a long segment in which Katie Couric interviews Obama and then McCain and does a nice job of crisply defining the two men:

George Jones, Tom Waits, Dinah Washington, Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys, Louis Armstrong, Van Morrison...

Those are the artists Bob Dylan has played most often on "Theme Time Radio Hour" — from a nice, long set of lists of things from the brilliant radio show. Poets referenced, authors referenced, movies referenced, TV shows... Here are the TV shows:

The Beverly Hillbillies, Chico and the Man, The Ed Sullivan Show, Hee Haw, Josie and the Pussycats, The Honeymooners, Leave it to Beaver, Lil’ Abner, Welcome Back Kotter, Sanford and Son, Roots, 60 Minutes, The Simpsons, The Sopranos, The Tonight Show, The Wire

Li'l — put the apostrophe in the right place — Abner was a TV show? I don't think so. I remember the movie musical with Stubby Kaye, but that just-linked Wikipedia article notes an earlier movie version of the comic strip. And it had Buster Keaton in it. Do you think it's in YouTube? Yes! Scroll in to about 2:00 to get to the Buster Keaton part. (Warning: It's not politically correct.)



Back to the Bob Dylan stuff. (Sorry for the stream-of-consciousness. Not really.) History Lessons From Bob:

Famous Electric Chairs (e.g. Old Sparky and Gruesome Gerty) Famous People Who Were Cheerleaders (e.g. Ann Margaret, George W. Bush) Famous People Who Were Valedictorians (e.g. Cindy Crawford, William Rehnquist, Weird Al – “I wonder if William Rehnquist gave the same type of speech as Weird Al. Somehow I doubt it.”) Famous People Who Had Burials At Sea (e.g. Steve McQueen, Ingrid Bergman, Vincent Price, Jerry Garcia) History of the Wobblies, the U.S. labor organization People Who Died While Playing Cards (e.g. Wild Bill Hickok, Al Jolson, Buster Keaton, the gangster Arnold Rothstein) Famous People Who Drove Cadillacs (e.g. Pope Pius XII, Teddy Roosevelt, Bill Clinton) History of Constantinople

Speaking of people who died while playing cards, have you ever noticed how many poker blogs there are? I wonder if anybody ever died while blogging about poker? (Cf., death by blogging.)

Useful tips (How to Walk Like A Runway Model)... One-Liners (“I always liked songs with parentheses in the title.”)... Deep Thoughts (“I leave you with the words of Benjamin Franklin. ‘He that is of the opinion money will do everything may well be suspected of doing everything for money.’ Thank you, Ben. Peace out.”)... Bad Jokes (“I gave a bald-headed friend a comb. You know what he said? ‘I’ll never part with it.’”)... Recipes (Figgy Pudding)...

Read the whole thing. It's pretty cool. By the way, what's your favorite song with parentheses in the title? I can only think of "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction."

"He once liked all-night poker games and now plays bridge online under the handle 'Chalengr.'"

If I had $50 billion dollars and wanted to play bridge a lot, I be a patron of the bridge players. I'd build a little village for them off in some corner of my property.

The "Top Chef" finale -- Part I.

Tiffani, Harold, and Dave, the final 3, find out there's a first round that will cut the competition down to the 2. It's an extremely high pressure threefold task, which seems designed to eliminate Dave, whose frazzling under pressure has been highlighted for our amusement all season. And that's exactly what happens.

The chefs must cook for room service at the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas and have only 30 minutes to do each of the three tasks.

Task #1. They have to make a hot and a cold dish for "high rollers," who -- unbeknownst to them -- turn out to be their most recently eliminated competitors -- Leann, Stephen, and Miguel. Since we know them so well, they're much more fun to watch than the usual judges. They like Harold's food best. (They don't know it's Harold's.) They complain about the lack of caviar. The chefs had access to an endless supply of luxury ingredients, yet no one picked up the caviar.

Task #2. They need to make 4 snacks for the high stakes poker players. Tiffani lets her snootiness get the better of her (again) and sees this as a opportunity to push poker players to new levels of sophistication. But when one of the players says "I need a fork," she's doomed. Dave wins this one -- mainly through spring rolls.

Task #3. The Cirque du Soleil acrobats have to fortify themselves with protein and carbs and not fat, the contestants are told: make 3 dishes for them. That big slab of Kobe beef is high fat, but the acrobats love it. That's Dave's contribution, and he could have won Task #3 with it, but he makes the monumental blunder of only providing 2 dishes, so Harold wins again (with something I can't even remember now). Dave lamely explains that he got confused from all the pressure: "I heard 'two.'"

Obviously, Harold is the best of the finalists, so the question is whether Tiffani or Dave has to go. Tiffani didn't win any of the tasks, but Dave's blunder cannot be ignored. It was an elaborate and well-designed competition that we just watched, but in the end, what mattered was that one mistake. Dave should have just dumped a can of caviar in a bowl to have a third dish.

So now, the drama that is Dave is over, and Part 2 of the finale, next week, will be all about the super-competent, steely cool Tiffani and Harold. We've been edited into love for Harold. But let Tiffani come out next week, with her red hair flaming, and fight like mad for the title.

"McKinney ... kept restating her charges of discrimination and profiling - which is just how a good bluff works."

Lawprof Steven Lubet -- who's got a new book, "Lawyers' Poker: 52 Lessons That Lawyers Can Learn from Card Players" -- is blogging about Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney and poker:

Bluffing depends on uncertainty. Did the Capitol Police really have a history of discrimination? Did the officer really use excessive force? Does McKinney have solid evidence to back up her claims? And how much were the Capitol police willing to pay - in the currency of reputation and credibility - in order to find out?

Whatever you think of McKinney, it was hard not to be impressed by the way that she kept raising the stakes. It would have been hard enough for federal prosecutors to take on a member of congress in any circumstance, but she put them on notice that they might be publicly branded racists - and perhaps face a civil rights lawsuit - if they filed charges against McKinney. Under that sort of pressure, no one would blame them for backing off.

Poker. It's about everything.