Chuck Norris, for those of you who don’t know, will roundhouse kick you just because he can.

If I were a celebrity, I would probably avoid endorsing any political candidate. I’ve gotten away from the political blogging I used to wallow in many years ago because I grew weary of fleas and yappy dogs. Such a vast amount much bickering for a bunch of candidates who can’t deliver.

This election, in particular, is disappointing. I’m just not impressed with the field of viable candidates, and I especially have some serious problems with a guy who easily talks but doesn’t walk, saying he supports family values with one hand while unable to keep up with all the divorce papers he has to sign with the other.

I think that matters.

That, and the name Newt. It makes me think of non-presidential aspirations.

“With great power comes great responsibility.”
– Uncle Ben, from Spiderman, as opposed to Uncle Tom 

Newt ought to understand that with this endorsement comes great responsibility. Chuck Norris, after all, will kick your ass.

I don’t think I’d ever want Chuck Norris to endorse me. In fact, I’d hope against hope that he didn’t know I existed. If I don’t exist, he can’t roundhouse kick me into actual non-existence. Additionally, I will not express overt or official public distaste for Norris’ endorsement of Newt out of abject fear of being roundhouse kicked.

I tweeted about it as I sat in the back, beneath the balcony on a bench, wearing jeans sans holes and tears, and a T-shirt which I had covered up with a coat. I soon received a tweet from Rob Port, of the Say Anything blog, asking for details, to which I briefly described the scene (see screenshot here). I also had some comments made on Facebook (see screenshot here). That was that, as far as I was concerned, until I was with my friend and her father this morning and found out that that had not, indeed, been that.

Apparently, it turned into a bit of a ruckus. First, there was an article written about the incident on Plains Daily. This was followed up by Port on his blog, which was then followed up by another two days later after the incident and previous articles had been mentioned by the Speaker of the House.

From reading Port’s posts, it is clear he feels the students should have been able to wear what they wanted, and that to deny them seating on the House floor was a major blow to public involvement in the government, as well as an affront to the very concept of a government by and for the people.

I disagree.

It isn’t too much to ask people (students, in this case) to wear appropriate clothes. If you want to clothe (pun intended) this as some sort of Libertarian affront, I’d say you have either under- or over-thought the true value of Libertarianism. Is a simple dress code too onerous a burden? How terrible is it to ask students, upon visiting our state’s capitol, to wear pants, and then pull these same pants up, or to more fully cover their breasts? When I was in high school, I had to follow the same dress codes — our teacher informed us of it several days before we went on our trip — and I grew up to neither be traumatized, quit voting, or despise democracy.

The Great Cop-Out: Parents
A parent who sends a child on an across-the-state school field trip in shorts during late winter in which it is cold, snowing, and windy is clearly not a parent who has any clue as to what is appropriate dress, or is, at best, an absent parent who might need some additional help. With that in mind, and looking at the clothes the kids were wearing, including a girl in a tight, low-cut tank top with sequins mainly appropriate for a night out with the possibility of money being tucked down the front of the shirt, and boys wearing pants that weren’t fully covering their ass, I can’t help but disagree with the statement that “[i]f the parents thought these kids were dressed well enough to go to school, then certainly they’re dressed well enough for the legislature.”

There’s not enough space in the world to blog on that loaded sentence, and what can be pulled from it. Suffice it to say that there are exterior standards in life beyond our control, and if you refuse to adhere to them — for whatever reason —  that’s fine. You simply must accept the end result. You want to stick it to the man and wear shorts in the middle of winter and get stuck in the balcony? You can do that. No one — not even your allegedly wise and capable parents — will apparently stop you. You are free to do it, so quit your bitching. However, there are rules, and they apply. It’s just not that complicated to grasp. If anything, that would be the best lesson these kids could learn from the day, and not how to push the button to vote “yes” or “no”: There are rules, and some even apply to you, whether you like it or not.

The girl in the tank top, by the way, was able to be seated because they located a jacket for her to wear so that her tank top was covered. The staff in the House tried to find solutions and seat the students who wanted to be seated.

Get Out, Hoi Polloi
To imply that a dress code is an attempt to keep out the “commoners” is an over simplification.

By the way, a lot of people seemed to be fine with Moszer’s actions because they targeted teenagers, but what if there were a mechanic or some other hard-working citizen who doesn’t wear a suit and tie to work who wanted to stop by the legislature and watch a bill they were interested in get voted on? Are they going to be barred from their legislature because they’re not clothed prettily enough?

How quickly it is forgotten that our legislature is made up of these actual farmers and plumbers and mechanics and other hard workers — also known as the “hoi polloi” — and that they follow the dress code themselves and are not allowed on the floor if they do not follow it. Do you think the farmers who are legislators once every two years are at home in a suit? Don’t you think they’d be more comfortable in a cap and jeans?

As a regular unelected citizen, I can go on the floor with less of a dress code than the legislators. Simply asking that students wear pants (not shorts) that don’t have tears and rips in them, and shirts that don’t display excessive cleavage and make some fair attempt to cover up is very little to ask! I can still wear jeans, as could the students, as long as they weren’t full of rips. It’s not as if the tags of the clothing are being checked to see if its Armani — the dress code simply calls for a very reasonable level of professional modesty and respect. It has nothing to do with giving deference to any person or persons, but instead is about showing some respect for the place and what is happening. It’s the center of government for the state. I can’t say that I really want to see shorty-shorts and spaghetti strap tanks out there on the floor of the House. I appreciate that a dress code was established to prevent bikini tops from showing up, and understand that this also means the things that seem like minor infringements must be so.

If a hard-working mechanic shows up in clothing that doesn’t fit the dress code, he simply cannot be allowed on the floor. He can certainly watch in the balcony. He is not being kept from watching the proceedings in any way, nor is he less able to participate than he would on the floor (i.e. he isn’t going to be participating beyond watching and listening anyway). How is he being denied anything? If the mechanic who stopped by unscheduled was sitting on the floor or in the balcony, he’d not be talking or participating in any way beyond listening and observing, so I fail to see how this is a valid argument whatsoever.

Interpolate and Extrapolate
The danger in blogging from afar and using a story written by another without being there is fraught with interpolation and extrapolation. This is enhanced when we carry our own emotions further into a story we don’t really know.

First, the Plains Daily story, written by a writer assumed to be on the scene, originally neglected to mention that the students were seated in the balcony, a fairly big omission since the resulting spin-off from that was “we are keeping our kids out of the process!” Even I, who had not interviewed anyone but was merely sitting there watching it happen, knew the students weren’t kicked out, but were allowed to view from above.

Second, the gist of what I’m gleaning from Port is that the actual incident really is less about what happened and is more a springboard for not liking to have a standard to comply with:

What bothers me about this is the attitude. We mere citizens can’t place ourselves in the presence of our legislators unless we meet some arbitrary dress code. I mean, who do we think we are? The electorate or something?

What bothers me most is the idea that we bloggers think we can extrapolate attitude from a written story in which we were not present for the actual event that spawned it nor privy to how it was pulled together and edited.

Frankly, it was Moszer’s rather pompous attitude (as illustrated by his comments in the article) that prompted my opinion my objection to the way these kids were treated. Moszer talked of people being turned away from the legislature every day, as though he were proud of it, and that irked me.

The legislature belongs to the people, and it is irritating to learn that so many citizens are kept out of their legislature for something as trivial as a dress code. And an unequally applied dress code as well. Moszer is quoted as saying that older citizens, particularly veterans, are sometimes allowed to wear their hats in the chambers.

So I guess it’s just the punk kids he hassles.

First off, I’ll defend the right of a veteran to wear a cap over a high school senior to wear a pair of shorts. That this is even used as a point for argument is amusing to me. Beyond that, however, how can I, as a reader, assume Moszer was proud of turning people away? From a quote or two in a story I didn’t write for an event I wasn’t present for? Or from an attitude of my own already in place that has affected the way I interpret this story? I didn’t find Moszer’s comments pompous at all. It seemed he was merely answering questions put to him such as “how often does this happen” and “what is the dress code” and “are there exceptions.” If Moszer were to have said “those punk kids aren’t getting in my House!” I may have some different feelings about it, but as it is…he didn’t.

If that truly is what bothers Port the most, the attitude that there should be a standard and that non-compliance had repercussions, I would be curious to see the reaction if I were to go to his blog and leave a consistent string of comments filled with every swear word, racial epitaph, and spamming link that I could supply. I am willing to bet he has a policy of sorts, or at the very least a system in place to keep his blog free from becoming a spam zone. This means he has his own standard. I fail to see the difference for our state government to hold its citizens to a very mild standard to say the least.

There are two basic rules, whether you’re a punk kid or not: Don’t touch the brass railing, and get some decent clothes on. Oh, how hard that is to follow, in order to be allowed to wander freely into the capitol of our state without metal detectors or any whiff of personal right infringement to sit with the legislators and view the proceedings of the laws as they are being passed. Truly, we the public are being cruelly burdened. Two simple rules, and they’re are crying for the kid who decided to wear shorts.

The most recent letter was in response to my thoughts on the new TSA regulations. After receiving the response and running it through my desktop backscatter scanner for hidden threats, and after considering the cumulative responses over the years, I have decided to save Sen. Conrad’s staff (and, frankly, the staff of any national elected official) a little effort and provide them with a convenient form letter to mail out.

Dear Constituent,

We received your letter here at Sen. Conrad’s office and are responding back to you mainly because that is one of the job requirements we are paid to do out of your tax dollars. We can’t possibly care about everything everyone writes to us about. We admit we don’t really care about what you wrote about, then, but in an effort to make you think that we do, we want you to know that your letter was received and here we are, responding.

First we’ll thank you for writing, though you’re really just taking up our time and filling our inbox.

Let me pause for a moment while I take a sip from my Diet Coke here near my computer monitor.

Then, right about here we’ll copy and paste two to three paragraphs of content from our talking points collection that relates to your topic of concern so that we can both fill up the space and push our own agenda while still appearing to care about what you wrote. We’ll end those pre-decided stances with an assurance that Sen. Conrad is doing his very best to work hard for you, the constituent, without actually talking your opinion into consideration while doing this alleged work for you.

We’ll sprinkle phrases like “I understand your concern” and “it was good to hear from you” and “thank you for contacting me” and “I’ll keep your thoughts in mind” even though you and I both know a staffer cranked this letter out probably before lunch break and forgot about it midway through a ham sandwich. And my Diet Coke.

It was good to hear from you.

Sincerely,

Random Staffer (DBA Sen. Kent Conrad)

Oh well. I’ll keep sending emails. I’m not even that annoyed anymore. I rather like getting mail. And they use such  nice paper.

Q.

A. By making note of the amount of quotation marks used in the column. (e.g. The “voters” made a “decision” and did what they thought “best.”)

Interestingly enough, when the Democrats swept through Washington and instilled themselves just a few years back, the reasons for their success weren’t a “lack of coherent message” by the opposition, or an unintelligent and unimaginative populace acting out like children, but because the people had finally had enough, come to their senses, and voted correctly.

That was the impression I got, anyway. I fail to see how that round of voting carried more meaning than the current round.

This election, amazingly, has revealed that same previously intelligent populace which voted the Democrats to power to now be in a state of stupidity and unable to understand the supposedly unclear Democratic message. I’ve read several columns, from the apoplectic column¹ by Vanity Fair’s editor, all the way down to a local columnist bemoaning the fact that, somehow, we voters just didn’t understand how foolish we were when we voted just a few days ago. I might suggest that these writers don’t understand the anger, the disillusionment, and weariness the people have over the current state of the nation from their currently employed state of existence.

Health reform, for example.

What do they expect people to do after watching banks being bailed out and money pouring into the pockets of failed institutions while they lose their job? Do they actually think, come election, that the proper “narrative” will help?

The process of voting and the right for people to use it has been negated, essentially, if you read these kinds of columns. According to the actual column I read today — “Some of the people they have installed appear to me to be little more than different rascals…” — I am led to believe that as voters voting, which by its very nature means someone is chosen and someone isn’t, we have done our duty for no reason. The choice of the voters is for naught. Same rascals, different name.

That is an unhealthy view of this nation’s citizens, government, constitution, and future. It’s also about crying sour grapes.

Between the two columns, this is what I learned about me, as a voter, today:

1. I don’t understand what is/was at stake.
2. I don’t understand what is/was best for me.
3. I’m acting like a child.
4. I have it good in America. Why should I “complain” by voting people out of power?

The key reason for the election outcome, I’m told, is that conservatives had a better narrative (which they probably do, seeing as how they aren’t surgically attached to teleprompters): “…[T]he Democrats were not so much beaten in 2010 as self-defeated,” the local columnist said.

I disagree. (I leave the self-defeating up to the Dallas Cowboys and their penalties). In this past election, the Democrats got their asses solidly kicked. Why? Because people did understand what they stood for, and didn’t like it.

The people voted no.

Period.

When a Congressman who has been popular for almost 20 years is now out a job (Earl Pomeroy), it isn’t because people didn’t understand him or misheard his message. It is because he made decisions in Washington which eventually led to his mea-culpa-last-ditch-election commercial swearing that he wasn’t Nancy Pelosi. In the commercial, he told North Dakotans that while we may not have agreed with some of his decisions, he had acted in our best interest. That is an incredible amount of arrogance on display, and the people responded with a “no.”

The voters understood the narrative, and chose to write an ending as they deemed fit. The end. I have never seen, in the face of such obvious loss, an attempt to find a way to say that it wasn’t an actual failure or loss.

If you were on the losing side, tough bounce. Your turn will come around again. Get over your own intellectual pride and suck it up.

——————–
¹ “A distinguished colleague of mine likens the wiggy mood of the nation to that of a hormonal teenager. What do you call an electorate that seems prone to acting out irrationally, is full of inchoate rage, and is constantly throwing fits and tantrums? You call it teenaged.” — Graydon Carter, a pompous dumbass who can’t seem to live or understand anyone outside of his own sphere of comfort, yet likely thinks he is socially evolved and tolerant.

Of all the commenters, I appreciate those who can quietly come in, leave a succinct comment in the true spirit of brevity and wit, a kind of verbal claymore. Rather than rambling for a paragraph on the ridiculousness of the blame game, or refuting the concept and enforcement difficulties of such an ordinance with page after page of documentation, or taking the bait of trolls, the two commenters shown in the graphic were able to cover it all in very few words.

1. Blame it on the current president. (For eight years, it was all Bush’s fault. Change is nice.)
2. Resistance is futile, City of Bismarck.
3. Please ignore Chicken Little in the middle graphic.