“I’m Sick And Tired Of Being Sick And Tired....” — Fannie Lou Hamer

 

I was surprised to learn that choosing Tim Walz, Kamala Marris’s most exciting and surprising running mate, was so uncertain. I call him the Velvet Shiv.

To the media, it’s all a football game; it must always be dramatic and close.

Governor Josh Shapiro was too ambitious and outspoken to make a loyal number two; Mark Kelly was impressive but boring, soft-spoken, and polite, and none of them was a Midwestern teacher, coach, soldier, and daddy with a shiv in his back pocket, ready to be shipped out.

And a passion for progressive politics. He is the only known candidate in the Democratic Party or, now that I think of it, in the country.

He had the pundits running around in circles like field mice running from a Barn Cat. No one anticipated him.

He set himself up like a master Ringmaster, gentle and warm, and then, when everyone was smiling, he took out the shiv.

I knew nothing about him, but I was in love the minute he said it was Donald Trump and his follower’s time to “Mind Your Own Business,” my slogan since I had agreed to post messages on social media. Nobody seemed to notice, but the candidate and the party screaming for less government have brought the government into our sex lives, reading choices, right to criticism, marital options,  marriage choices, and health care decisions for our wives, sisters, and children.

Last night, Governor Walz reminded us of what Joe Biden needed more energy or will to do.

As a result, Donald Trump ran amuck and essentially unchallenged for a decade, getting more robust, more prosperous, more powerful, and, yes, hateful all the time. This man knows how to leverage fame and controversy into money. He is the Christ Child of the Billionaire Class and Evangelical extremists; the holy savior came to save them from the dread of radical liberals.

But one thing he has never done is keep himself together in the face of strong and intelligent women holding him right in the bulls-eye and coming after him. That’s pretty exciting.

Whatever happens, Tim Walz did us further service by finally calling him out for it and getting the message through. I’m with him; I can’t wait for his debate with JD Vance.

Unlike Hillary Clinton or President Biden, the Governor seems to lust for fighting with a grin.

Kamala Harris immediately let him off his leash and kept her title as the candidate of Joy, clapping and beaming in the background. She can’t be bothered.

His Midwestern Schmalz was not only timely but even seemed authentic.

To my knowledge, Tim Walz was the first powerful Democrat to do what his football players called the Walz fake; he set us up with his warm and cuddly love of kids and football and then, without blinking, stuck it right uup Donald Trump’s ass and then Vance’s. If you weren’t listening, you could have missed it.

If you were, you could never have missed it.

Yes, Governor, they are weird. Strange but true.

The reality of Trump and his movement finally got through to the masses, the first significant crack in the wall if you pay attention to social media; Walz has given his party the very political gift of speaking American and in plain English behind a wall of ol’ Midwestern charm and goo (the contrast between sudden and aggrieved Yale populist JD and his best-selling book and Governor Tim working his but off on his family’s Nebraska farm was priceless).

I need to say I liked Vance’s book; his next bestseller will be how he and Trump took a mighty beating in this campaign and were victimized by crazed Markists who were subhuman. He proves that you can have children and still be a sociopath. People like Vance never really lose.

They find new enemies to hate. He will have to do a lot better than woman and their cats.

Walz is not as old and sweet as he looks; he’s about the same age as his boss.  Nor is he as lovely.

But he looks like Santa waiting to bring gifts to all the children and young football players of America. Politics is unpredictable, and we are all in for a yo-yo and ugly down-to-the-wire storm.

They’ve got my attention, though. If they can paint Governor Tim as a Lenin-in-hiding, they will have learned to make a miracle. Trump knows it, too.

Even his lies have lies. Once the bubble bursts, the air keeps on deflating it. The Trump era is coming slowly, loudly, and painfully to its end.