I Voted for Harris

On Sunday, I voted (early) in this year’s elections. I voted for Kamala Harris for president, and I think you should, too.

Why did I vote for her? Let me tell you.

I voted for her not for any specific policy promise or rhetorical flourish. I voted for her because I think that when she is sitting at the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office, and an issue is brought before her that she needs to decide, her first thought is going to be “what is the best decision for the country?” If Donald Trump is sitting at that desk, however, I think his first thought will be “what is the best decision for me and my friends?” That difference is the only reason I needed to make my decision. But I’ll go a little further for the rest of you.

I think Kamala Harris will surround herself with appointees, advisors, and assistants who will also be thinking “what is best for the country?” I think she will seek out the smartest, most capable people possible. Donald Trump, on the other hand, has already told us who he’ll be looking to appoint, and who he won’t, and I don’t think they’ll be working for our best interests. I don’t trust the cadre around him, and I don’t trust his judgment in finding more appointees or advisors.

You can look at any of the campaign nonsense you want—taxes and tariffs, deplorables and enemies, fascism and greatness—none of what they’re saying today will matter after the inauguration. The only thing that will matter is who is making the decisions, and what is uppermost in their minds when they make those decisions. That’s why I voted for Kamala Harris, and why I urge you to do the same.

A Vampire is Running for President: Thank God!

A press release from Fantastic Books:

It’s been a horrific election season. Supporters on both sides are quite certain the other candidate can’t be human. Maybe we’d be better off voting for an actual monster!

Should being outed as a real vampire disqualify one from running for the presidency of the United States? Michael A. Ventrella’s hilarious Bloodsuckers answers that question.

Disgraced journalist Steven Edwards considers the “Batties”—the loonies who believe that vampires are real and Norman Mark is one—just another crazy tin-foil-hat extremist group. Then someone shoots at Mark, changes into a bat, and flies away before Steve’s eyes, leaving him as the prime suspect. With the help of the Batties, Steve goes underground. The only way he can establish his innocence is by proving vampires exist—not an easy task while on the run from both the FBI and the bloodsuckers.

Fantastic Books is releasing a new edition of Bloodsuckers right now, timed to coincide with “the most consequential presidential election in American history.” But aren’t they all? We’ve been tuned in to news of this election non-stop for years; it’s time to take a break. Read Bloodsuckers, and put it all into perspective.

Bloodsuckers: A Vampire Runs for President
Michael A. Ventrella
$15.99, 250 pages, trade paperback (ebook $7.99)
publication date: October 29, 2024
ISBN: 978-1-5154-5828-9

Bloodsuckers—and all Fantastic Books books—are distributed via Ingram. Review copies are available upon request.

Can New York Vote Republican?

A friend asked me how many Republican presidents have carried the electoral votes of New York State. It’s a simple enough question. But I think it may be masking something else. My friend may be wondering if the present is monolithic: that the way things are is the way they have always been, and always will be.

New York is currently overwhelmingly Democratic—so much so that it’s nearly inconceivable that New York would vote Republican for president. In 2004, 58.37% of the vote in New York was for John Kerry, the Democrat (he earned 48.3% of the popular vote nationwide). In 2008, Barack Obama took 62.88% of New York (52.9% nationwide). In 2012, Obama got 63.35% of New York (51.1% nationwide). In 2016, Hilary Clinton took 59.01% of New York (48.2% nationwide). And in 2020, Joe Biden garnered 60.87% of New York (51.3% nationwide).

But reality is not quite so unchanging.

There have been 42 elections with a Republican candidate on the ballot for president (the first was John C. Fremont in 1856). In those elections, New York has voted for the Republican candidate 20 times, and 22 times for the Democrat. When New York votes Republican, that candidate has won 17 times (New York voted for unsuccessful Republicans Fremont in 1856, Hughes in 1916, and Dewey in 1948). When New York votes Democratic, that candidate has won 15 times (New York voted for unsuccessful Democrats Seymour in 1868, Tilden in 1876, Humphrey in 1968, Dukakis in 1988, Gore in 2000, Kerry in 2004, and Hilary Clinton in 2016).

So yes, in the current era, New York state voting Republican is highly unlikely. But such was not always the case. And it may not always be the case in the future. The key take-away from these numbers is: things change. The Republicans may be able to divorce themselves from the insanity of the Trumpian party, and once again field rational candidates for national office. The Democrats may become unhinged through their own acceptance of a radical fringe. The one thing we know for certain is that humans are very good at extrapolating trends, but absolutely terrible and foreseeing inflection points in those trends.

J.D. Vance’s Youth

For those who haven’t heard: Donald Trump chose Ohio Senator J.D. Vance as his vice-presidential running mate in this year’s election.

I’ve been listening to the talking heads as they keep coming back to Vance’s youth: his fortieth birthday will be August 2. I’m not talking about experience, but simply his age.

While the millennials they’ve interviewed are thrilled that one of their generation is on the ticket, the talking heads have several times compared his age to Theodore Roosevelt’s (who was 42 years 128 days old when he took office as vice president, but six months later, William McKinley was assassinated, and TR became the youngest-ever president). Interestingly—at least, to me—they’re not talking about Richard Nixon, who turned 40 two weeks before he was inaugurated as vice president in 1953 (he served two terms under Dwight Eisenhower, lost the presidential election of 1960 to John Kennedy, and then was elected president in 1968).

The record-holder in terms of being the youngest vice president is John C. Breckinridge, James Buchanan’s vice president. Breckinridge was 36 years 318 days old when he was inaugurated in 1857. He had served in the House of Representatives from 1851 to 1855, and after his vice presidency, served several months in the Senate, before siding with the Confederacy (the Senate branded him a traitor, and expelled him in December 1861). He later served as the CSA’s fifth and final Secretary of War, from February to May 1865.

Announcing way too early?

I’ve been mulling the current presidential election season. Specifically, I’ve been wondering if Joe Biden might have more easily opted to be a one-term president if he hadn’t had to announce his attentions so far in advance of the election. After all, if he’d said—in April 2023—that he wasn’t running for another term, he would have been a lame duck for 21 months, nearly half of his term.

So I’ve dug out the data from the primary era of presidential campaigns, to see if my assumption was correct. Here’s what I found.

Lyndon Johnson was in the race ten months before election day. On March 12, 1968, he won 49 percent of the vote in the New Hampshire primary, barely beating Eugene McCarthy’s 42 percent. Four days later, Robert F. Kennedy got into the race. Johnson announced his withdrawal from the race March 31, 1968, 219 days before the election of 1968.

Richard Nixon authorized the formation of his re-election campaign committee on January 7, 1972, 305 days before the election of 1972. He won the election in one of the greatest landslides in presidential history.

Gerald Ford launched his presidential campaign July 8, 1975, one year and 117 days before the election of 1976. He lost a surprisingly close race to Jimmy Carter.

Jimmy Carter launched his re-election bid on December 4, 1979, 336 days before the election of 1980. He lost handily to Ronald Reagan.

Ronald Reagan announced his re-election campaign on January 29, 1984, 282 days before the election of 1984. His margin of victory was almost as large as Nixon’s.

George H.W. Bush announced his re-election campaign on February 12, 1992, 265 days before the election of 1992. He lost a three-way race to Bill Clinton.

Bill Clinton announced his re-election campaign on April 14, 1995, one year and 202 days before the election of 1996. He won in another three-way race, becoming the only president to win two terms without ever garnering a majority of the popular vote.

George W. Bush announced his re-election campaign on May 16, 2003, one year and 171 days before the election of 2004. He won in a less contentious election than his first.

Barack Obama announced his re-election campaign on April 4, 2011, one year and 213 days before the election of 2012. He won in a closer election than his first.

Donald Trump announced his re-election campaign on January 20, 2017—the day he was inaugurated—three years and 288 days before the election of 2020. He lost the election.

Joe Biden announced his re-election campaign on April 25, 2023, one year and 191 days before the election of 2024.

Conclusion: it wasn’t Donald Trump or the 24-hour-a-day give-us-an-election-so-we-don’t-have-to-report-actual-news news cycle that caused Joe Biden to have to announce so early. Rather, it was Bill Clinton who started this absurd trend, and Biden is just doing what his predecessors did. (I’m leaving out Ford because he was a special circumstance in so many ways.)

Also, how long before the election a president starts running for re-election doesn’t seem to have an effect on the outcome of the election.

PresidentRe-election AnnouncementDays Until Election
Richard NixonJanuary 7, 1972305
Gerald FordJuly 8, 1975482
Jimmy CarterDecember 4, 1979336
Ronald ReaganJanuary 29, 1984282
George H.W. BushFebruary 12, 1992265
Bill ClintonApril 14, 1995567
George W. BushMay 16, 2003536
Barack ObamaApril 4, 2011578
Donald TrumpJanuary 20, 20171,383
Joe BidenApril 25, 2023556

Who else is he paying, or paying him?

Donald Trump is a convicted felon, joining the ignominious ranks of Aaron Burr[1], John C. Breckenridge[2], and John Tyler[3]. Even though his conviction was on the least consequential of the four cases currently pending against him, we now live in a world where a former President of the United States is a convicted felon. But does it really mean anything? Those who support him so ardently will continue to support him. Those who do not support him don’t need new reasons to not support him. And the undecided voters—the key to most elections in this country—are a small and shrinking percentage this time around, since the major candidates are both completely known quantities.

The conviction itself is not the sad event. The sad event was when Donald Trump shamed the office by fomenting insurrection during the ballot counting. It was the entire year of 2020, when he spent so much effort making people mistrust the electoral system, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to win a fair election. It was when he urged others to help him cheat just to retain the office he could not legitimately claim. And those things will be adjudicated in the further trials… if they are ever allowed to proceed.

The current conviction is simply a confirmation of what we’ve known about Donald Trump all along: that he’s a liar, a grifter, a thief, who will do or say anything to protect himself, regardless of its legality or morality.

While the actual crime is fairly small potatoes, it is entirely in keeping with Trump’s character. What makes it so egregious is that it was committed by a presidential candidate. But even that is something we should (unfortunately) have come to expect from him. He keeps telling us who he is; we are the fools for constantly being surprised. He keeps begging us to pay attention only to the show that he is, to not look behind the curtain. And that’s what this case was about: the hidden back-story that is even less appealing. And that’s been his entire career. Keeping a porn star from saying he’s a sexual predator? That’s tiny. What I want to know is why is he still the only president in living memory to not release his tax returns? What is hiding in those documents that he so assiduously does not want people to know about him?

[1] Vice President Aaron Burr (1801–05) arguably committed treason by working with Mexico to overthrow Spanish rule in 1807, but was acquitted due to the paucity of evidence.

[2] Vice President John C. Breckinridge (1857–61) was representing Kentucky in the US Senate in 1861 when he declared that the Union no longer existed and that Kentucky should be free to choose her own course. He enlisted in the Confederate army, was indicted for treason in U.S. federal district court in Frankfort on November 6, 1861, and on December 2, 1861, the Senate declared him a traitor and expelled him.

[3] President John Tyler (1841–45) presided over the Washington Peace Conference in February 1861, which was an effort to prevent the Civil War. The convention sought a compromise, but Tyler voted against the conference’s resolutions. At the same time, he was elected to the Virginia Secession Convention, and presided over it as well. Tyler voted for secession, and negotiated the terms for Virginia’s entry into the Confederate States of America. On June 14, he signed the Ordinance of Secession, and then was elected to the Provisional Confederate Congress, where he served until just before his death in 1862. In November 1861, he was elected to the Confederate House of Representatives but he died of a stroke before the first session could open in February 1862. Because of his allegiance to the Confederacy, his was the only presidential death to go unrecognized in Washington.

Justice delayed is… what the guilty want

Donald Trump has proven one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt: his “delay delay delay” legal strategy is brilliant, and nearly always effective.

The defendant has the right to a speedy trial, but perhaps there should be some consideration of the victim in that dictum, too. In these multiple cases, the defendant doesn’t want a speedy trial. The longer the trials are delayed, the more doubt can be sewn, and the greater the chance he can escape ever having to stand trial at all. The victims, in the meantime, have no recourse. We appear to have suffered from his actions—but await the outcomes of several trials to determine if in fact his actions caused harm and were contrary to the law. We continue to suffer from the lack of resolution of those cases, and there’s nothing we can do.

Shouting into the political wind

I just completed my absentee ballot for this year’s election here in New York City’s 45th assembly district. As with the linked article, I, too, have a dearth of choices. For two of the races (judgeships), there was only one candidate, while for the State Supreme Court, there were seven candidates for the six seats (five of them were endorsed by all three parties represented on the ballot [Democratic, Republican, and Conservative], one is Democratic-only, and the other Republican and Conservative only). And in the City Council race, there is the incumbent (registered Democrat) running as a Democrat, Republican, and Conservative, while his opponent (registered Republican) is running as an independent.

For the unopposed judgeships, I wrote in votes for “None of the Above,” as I did for five of the six seats on the Supreme Court (I only voted for the Democratic-only candidate). For the City Council, the incumbent couldn’t be bothered to tell us his top issues, nor to answer the questions about his positions on the major topics, while his challenger strikes me as too religiously doctrinaire, so I wrote in myself.

Why am I posting this, along with that article link? Because I agree with it emphatically… and I can’t think of any simple way to get us out of the mess. We have the vote… but we’ve given the two major parties so much power over all the features of our government that they’ve made our vote completely meaningless. While political gerrymandering is less of an artificial impediment here in New York City (there’s no feasible way I can imagine to make the districts competitive between the parties, when the overwhelming majority of registered voters are all in one party), it also results in the extremists who can’t even talk with the other side, which is the dysfunction we’ve been seeing in Washington. So I’m voting “none of the above” in protest of the system. As absentee ballots, they won’t be noticed; as write-in votes, they’ll be recorded as “write-in votes,” and no one will even bother to read whose name I wrote in. I think I’m just shouting at the wind, but it does make me feel marginally better. Then again, climate change will probably kill us before the political extremists can truly ruin the world, so there’s that.

Can We Survive the Bite of the Gerrymander?

800px-The_Gerry-Mander_EditThe current state of political strife in the United States is something we should all fear. It is dangerous to our continued mutual welfare and well-being, as well as dangerous to our hoped-for future.

But it is not something that simply arose, not a natural outgrowth of our thinking and feeling. It is a result, carefully built, that points to an incredibly successful, decades-long campaign. It is something from which we can recover, but that will take a lot of effort.

When I was in college, in the 1980s, one of my political science professors described the political spectra here and in the European parliamentary systems. Here, he said, the difference between the liberals and the conservatives is that the liberals want to set Social Security at $3.00, while the conservatives want to set it at $2.00. In Europe, the difference is that the liberals want to set Social Security at $5.00, while the conservatives want to set it at zero. He was teaching us that, though (at the time) we saw vast gulfs of difference between our liberals and conservatives, in comparison to the rest of the world, our extreme wings were so close to the middle of the road as made no real difference.

The reason for that very narrow, very central political spectrum was our electoral system. In the parliaments—and he was thinking more of countries such as Israel and the Netherlands, where members are elected at large from the whole country—a political party only needs to win two or three percent of the vote to earn a seat in the governing body. People can vote for a party that aligns precisely with their views, knowing that they can be represented, even if only by a small party. And in the no-party-with-a-majority outcomes of those elections, even the smallest parties have a chance to be important in the formation of a coalition government.

In the US system, however, our governmental representatives are elected by small geographic districts, each one a winner-take-all election. In such a system, if you don’t get the plurality of the votes, you don’t get a seat in the government. Such a system will naturally and instantaneously devolve into a two-party system. Each election, one wins and one loses. And the way to win elections in such a system is to get as close to the middle as possible. A candidate knows he has the support of the extreme wing of his party, because there’s no chance they’d ever vote for the other party, so he doesn’t have to convince them to vote for him. The votes that are up for grabs are the independents, the undecideds, the middle-of-the-road voters who see some good in each party. In that system, being extreme is a losing strategy. And so, for many years, we had a mostly middle-of-the-road government: perhaps not awe-inspiring, but comfortable.

But there was a snake in that grass: gerrymandering. In the early days of gerrymandering—the first decades of the 1800s—it was a blunt instrument, used to separate towns and communities, or group them together. But in the last two decades, with the growth of ever more powerful computing capabilities and incredibly precise polling data, the people redrawing voting district lines can map them to include and exclude specific houses. And the political parties have taken that ability so far beyond the bounds of reason. A phrase that’s been thrown around the news of late is “the politicians picking their voters, rather than the other way around,” and that really is what’s happening. In a district that is drawn to be “safe” for one party, the general election is a formality, a waste of time. In my own district, for instance, the closest election the incumbent Democrat has fought was in 2020, when she took only 83.1% of the vote. In the past 30 years in my district, there were only two other elections in which the incumbent got less than 90% of the vote. There is no point in a Republican even running in my district, though they usually put up a token sacrificial lamb for appearances’ sake. But that means my Representative doesn’t have to do anything to win except be a loyal Democrat.

U.S. congressional districts covering Travis County, Texas (outlined in red) in 2002, left, and 2004, right. In 2003, the majority of Republicans in the Texas legislature redistricted the state, diluting the voting power of the heavily Democratic county by parceling its residents out to more Republican districts. In 2004 the orange district 25 was intended to elect a Democrat while the yellow and pink district 21 and district 10 were intended to elect Republicans. District 25 was redrawn as the result of a 2006 Supreme Court decision. In the 2011 redistricting, Republicans divided Travis County between five districts, only one of which, extending to San Antonio, elects a Democrat.

TravisCountyDistricts
U.S. congressional districts covering Travis County, Texas (outlined in red) in 2002, left, and 2004, right. In 2003, the majority of Republicans in the Texas legislature redistricted the state, diluting the voting power of the heavily Democratic county by parceling its residents out to more Republican districts. In 2004 the orange district 25 was intended to elect a Democrat while the yellow and pink district 21 and district 10 were intended to elect Republicans. District 25 was redrawn as the result of a 2006 Supreme Court decision. In the 2011 redistricting, Republicans divided Travis County between five districts, only one of which, extending to San Antonio, elects a Democrat.

It also means that the real election—if there ever is one (which doesn’t happen in my district)—is the primary election, when the Democratic party decides who is going to be their candidate. That’s what we had last year when New York City elected a new mayor. There was no discussion of the general election; everyone knew the Democratic primary was choosing the next mayor; Republicans need not apply.

But this shift means that the electorate a candidate has to convince is no longer the middle-of-the-road, could-vote-Democratic-or-Republican independent voters; they don’t matter, because the stalwart party members are the majority of the district. That means the middle-of-the-road, I-welcome-everyone type of candidate is an automatic loser. Because when the primary is the election, the way to win the primary is to appeal to the most ardent, strident, non-centrist members of the party. The candidate has to convince them that he will represent only their views, and screw the other party. When it’s the primary that matters, running to the extreme is a winning strategy. Because whatever level the election is (primary or general), money talks. And those most willing to donate to a campaign are always the farthest-out fringe members, because they see not just bad ideas, but actual evil in the other party.

In the days when it was the general election that mattered, party leaders were smart enough to know that the way to win was to run to the middle. But now that the general election doesn’t matter, because the party leaders have already rigged the districts to be “safe” for the party, the way to win is to run to the outermost edges to get the funding to win the primary.

And that results in a Congress full of politicians who aren’t working for the common good, but for the party’s good. That’s what gives us a Mitch McConnell, who won’t allow a Supreme Court nominee to be considered because it’s an election year (2016), but will rush through a Supreme Court nominee because it’s an election year (2020), based solely on who put forth the nomination. And that’s what gives us an Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who won’t vote for the Bipartisan Infrastructure Bill because it does everything she wants, but she also wants Build Back Better right now at the same time, because she wants what she wants and she wants it all right now. It’s what gives us a country in which the continued health of our democratic republic truly is in jeopardy. It turns a deliberative, thoughtful body of legislators into a raucous madhouse of children trying to score points with “the folks back home” by being as nasty and uncooperative with their fellow members as possible.

I lay these problems squarely at the foot of gerrymandering. But we’ve gerrymandered ourselves into such a deep hole, and the two parties that won have so entrenched themselves in the system, that I fear we’ll never be able to get out of it. Ballotpedia, for instance, shows that in the election of 2020, only 41 of the 435 House districts were “battlegrounds.” That is, 394 of the Representatives knew they were winners as soon as the primary was over, and only 41 had to bother with the general election. (See https://ballotpedia.org/U.S._House_battlegrounds,_2020)

So how do we get out of our gerrymandered quagmire? It’ll take a true statesman. Actually, we’ll need two. Because to get out of it, each of the parties will have to say (of their own polities) “we currently have the majority, and we can redraw the districts to ensure that we always have the majority, but that would be bad. So we’re going to redraw the districts to ensure competition, for the good of the country.” If only one party does it, the other will swoop in and kill them as quickly as possible. Both parties have to do it, and they have to do it together.

And we’re all stuck in it like insects in a pitcher plant, because it feels good to be winning, to be on top, to be a supporter of the candidate and the party that wins. But we have to put aside that good feeling, and adopt a longer-term view that, though we feel good about winning today, if we break the system, we sure won’t feel good in the future.