#do i think they should have kept his hometown as el paso? yes

[blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings]

Blue Beetle (2023) was so GOOD yall

I'm so excited honestly I've loved bb for forever and its always so hard finding good merch and he finally got his own feature film! That looks good! It was good! The visuals were beautiful! And now more people will be aware of this precious ray of sunshine! I'm excited!

[thisdaynews]

Beto O’Rourke’s Campaign Found New Meaning in the Gun Debate. But Is He Hurting the Cause?

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/beto-orourkes-campaign-found-new-meaning-in-the-gun-debate-but-is-he-hurting-the-cause/

Beto O’Rourke’s Campaign Found New Meaning in the Gun Debate. But Is He Hurting the Cause?

DENVER—Tom Sullivan, a Colorado state lawmaker whose son, Alex, was killed in the Aurora theater shooting in 2012, met Beto O’Rourke one cloudless morning in September and, inside a glass-and-brick office building in downtown Denver, introduced him to several other people whose friends or relatives had been killed in mass shootings.

They were seated at a table in a third-floor conference room of the Colorado Trial Lawyers Association, beside a largely untouched basket of bagels and a box of Starbucks coffee. Jane Dougherty, whose sister Mary Sherlach was murdered at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn., in 2012, brought up the moment, at a presidential debate in Houston the previous week,when O’Rourke had said, “Hell yes, we’re going to take your AR-15, your AK-47.”

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“I think I was jumping around in my family room, because my sister was murdered by an AR-15,” Dougherty said.

Coni Sanders, whose father, Dave, was killed in the 1999 shooting at Columbine High School, where he was a teacher, said she had rushed toward the television in her living room, hurting her head on a door jamb before sitting down on the floor and watching in disbelief. “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing,” Sanders said. Brandon Kellogg, a student at Columbine during the massacre, said that, sitting on his couch watching the debate that night, he cried.

O’Rourke swallowed.

In March, when the former Texas congressman entered the presidential race amid soaring expectations, his biggest liability was a perceived lack of solemnity. That perception was reinforced by a meandering road trip throughout the Southwest, a “born to be in it”Vanity Faircover story,and a penchant for standing on tables and chairs. Then, he sank in public opinion polls, watched his fundraising fall off and drifted throughout the early stages of the primary, overwhelmed by a field of more experienced competitors.

But now O’Rourke, while still running far behind in the 2020 field, finds himself at the center of one of the Democratic primary’s gravest and most divisive policy disputes. After the shooting massacre at a Walmart in his hometown of El Paso, Texas, in August, O’Rourke proposed a mandatory buyback of all assault weapons—a kind of eminent domain for guns. The proposal—and the pressure it has put on his competitors to respond—has amplified the gun control discussion in the 2020 primary and pushed it further to the left. And O’Rourke’s intense focus on the issue, including events like the one in Denver, has given his faltering campaign new meaning.

“We have to continue to keep this issue front and center if we’re going to make any progress on it,” O’Rourke told me recently over pasta at Fish Nor Fowl, a restaurant in Pittsburgh’s east end, during a campaign swing through Pennsylvania on the day he turned 47. “And I have an opportunity to do that.”

How long O’Rourke will have that opportunity is unclear. He is polling at 2 percent or 3 percent nationally in the primary. And, he told me, “I cannot fathom a scenario where I would run for public office again if I’m not the nominee.”

Barring upheaval in the primary, O’Rourke’s focus on gun control will not make him president. More than that, he might be hurting his own crusade. His buyback proposal thrust him into conflict, not only with President Donald Trump and the National Rifle Association, but with some of his party’s leaders, who fear O’Rourke will alienate moderate voters and hinder Democrats’ ability to negotiate more modest gun reforms in Congress, especially if the Senate remains in Republican hands after the 2020 election.

“Dummy Beto made it much harder to make a deal,” Trump tweeted last month, and many Democrats on Capitol Hill agreed.

O’Rourke acknowledges that calling for a mandatory buyback “may be politically difficult” and “might diminish our prospects in the next election, whether you’re a member of Congress or whether you’re a candidate for the presidency.” But he also believes his critics are misreading shifts in public opinion. Near the end of the meeting in Denver, he pledged, “I’m in all the way.”

Lonnie Phillips, whose daughter was killed in Aurora, told O’Rourke that he had “stepped in shit.”

“They’re going to come after you,” Phillips said, while assuring O’Rourke that he has “an army behind you.”

“You don’t back down,” he added.

***

O’Rourke no longer owns a gun,but he grew up around them in West Texas. He told me his father, Pat, kept a handgun in his sock drawer and an inherited “arsenal” of handguns, shotguns and rifles in a basement closet. O’Rourke used to take a .22-caliber rifle into the desert to shoot bottles and cans, and he has gone hunting with friends.

Early in his near-miss Senate run against Ted Cruz last year, a friend advised O’Rourke to “make sure that you’re seen in church every Sunday, make sure that they get a picture of you wearing boots and carrying a gun around,” O’Rourke said. “And I was just like, you know what, none of that is me. I don’t go to church every Sunday. I don’t carry a gun. I don’t have a gun.”

During his Senate campaign, O’Rourke supported renewed efforts to pass an assault weapons ban. But running in a Republican- and gun-rich state, he repeatedly said he had no desire to take weapons from people who already owned them. Early in his presidential run, O’Rourke pursued a standard Democratic menu of gun reforms, including universal background checks and red-flag laws.

The idea of a mandatory buyback, he said, “just was not part of the dialogue. And it doesn’t justify the position or make it OK … but that is, perhaps like a lot of people, where I was.”

That changed after a gunman wielding an AK-47-style riflekilled 22 people in El Paso. On the morning of the shooting, O’Rourke was speaking at a labor forum in Las Vegas and became shaken when the first reports of deaths came in. “Keep that shit on the battlefield,” he pleaded, before suspending his campaign and returning home to mourn the victims and meet with survivors.

Then he asked himself, “What is the most that we could possibly do?”

Gathered around his dinner table one day, he said he told a clutch of advisers, “I can’t escape the conclusion that if we want to stop selling these, then we should also buy the 10 million or more that are out there off the streets. I said, ‘Give me the best argument against this.’ And the only real argument against it was a political argument.”

Until the El Paso shooting, O’Rourke told me, “I never forced myself to answer the question, ‘If it’s important to stop selling these, then shouldn’t we do something to address the fact that there are those weapons of war out on the streets or in people’s homes that can and will be used against us?’ And I don’t know how to say it other than, ‘The reason I never asked myself that question is I just never entertained the possibility that it was possible.”

O’Rourke is now calling for a mandatory buyback for assault weapons and a voluntary buyback for handguns. The funding for the buybacks, he says, would come from increasing the excise tax on gun manufacturers and increasing fines on traffickers. People who do not sell back their assault weapons would be fined.

The proposal is similar to a policy advanced by one of his former competitors, California Congressman Eric Swalwell. Now it is O’Rourke arguing, as Swalwell did with less notice, that Democrats have approached gun control negotiations all wrong, by allowing gun rights activists to frame the parameters of the debate. At a recent campaign event, former Maryland Governor Martin O’Malley, an early O’Rourke supporter, told me, “I’m proud of the fearless way that my candidate is speaking the truth to people.” Swalwell said O’Rourke’s “Hell yes” answer “gave me goosebumps.” And David Axelrod, a former top adviser to President Barack Obama, said on Twitter that O’Rourke “is really moving on this issue of banning assault weapons. Very, very powerful.”

At his rallies, O’Rourke still swivels from impeachment and climate change to immigration and jobs. He is not a single-issue candidate. But it is on gun control that he is distinguishing himself. He told me he “can certainly tell from the way that people have responded and their passion around gun violence, that this has resonated, and that they associate me with this issue.”

During an early October town hall at Casa del Mexicano, a cultural center in Los Angeles’ Boyle Heights neighborhood, an elderly woman in the crowd winced when O’Rourke described the impact of an AR-15 or an AK-47, saying, “You talk to the surgeons who treat the victims, and they say it just shreds to shit everything inside of your body.” A high school student told O’Rourke that “all of my friends are scared” that they will be shot at school, and asked him, “What do we do?” O’Rourke, sweating through his shirt, his sleeves rolled up, told her, “We are not going to accept what is happening right now,” and he suggested that young people would alter the politics surrounding the issue. A cheer went up when he repeated his “Hell, yes,” refrain.

For the purposes of the election, an adviser to one of O’Rourke’s competitors told me, “He did the smart thing, which was to take the pure position.”

The adviser added, “I don’t know quite what it’s adding up to.”

***

For a Democratic presidential candidate,taking a stand on gun control would appear to be advantageous.

Bulletproof backpacks hit the market, active shooter drills have become commonplace in schools, and gun policy ranks among Democratic voters’ top concerns. Forty-five percent of Americans worry they or someone in their family will be victimized in a mass shooting, according to Gallup. In the midterm elections last year, Everytown for Gun Safety, the pro-gun control group founded by former New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, spent millions of dollars, and gun control advocates claimed a number of victories in congressional swing districts.

“The myth that gun safety is the ‘third rail’ of American politics, I think, is buried,” says John Feinblatt, Everytown’s president. “Candidates are now running on their gun safety credentials from Day 1. … That’s just a seismic shift.”

A Quinnipiac University poll released in August found that 60 percent of voters support a nationwide ban on the sale of assault weapons, and 82 percent favor requiring people to be licensed before purchasing a gun. Support for a mandatory assault weapon buyback program is more mixed—46 percent, according to Quinnipiac, or 52 percent according to aWashington Post-ABC News poll. But support for a mandatory buyback soars among Democratic voters, reaching 71 percent in the Quinnipiac poll. Even in Texas, 49 percent of the state’s voters support a mandatory buyback, according to a University of Texas, Tyler, poll released after the Houston debate.

O’Rourke, who frequently cites the Texas poll, told me, “That’s amazing. That’s without any money being spent to support that position. That’s without—with the exception of Eric Swalwell—without a single national political figure advocating for or endorsing the idea. So that’s just where people are.”

Senators Cory Booker and Kamala Harris have expressed support for a mandatory gun buyback, but the vast majority of the Democratic candidates have not. The field’s early front-runner, Vice President Joe Biden, came close to endorsing the idea over the summer, in a CNN interview, before his campaign clarified that Biden supports a voluntary—not a mandatory—buyback. He has since proposed giving people who own assault weapons or high-capacity magazines a choice: sell them back or register them.

Other candidates don’t just oppose buybacks; they also criticize O’Rourke for advocating one. At a gun control forum in Las Vegas in early October, South Bend, Indiana, Mayor Pete Buttigieg said buybacks have had “mixed results” and questioned the utility of pursuing them.

“We’ve got to do something now,” Buttigieg said. “And we have a way sometimes as a party—my party—of getting caught just when we’ve amassed the discipline and the force to get something done right away, a shiny object makes it harder for us to focus.”

When O’Rourke appeared at the forum that same afternoon, he condemned Buttigieg’s rhetoric. To “those who are worried about the polls and want to triangulate or talk to the consultants or listen to the focus groups—and I’m thinking about Mayor Pete on this one, who I think probably wants to get to the right place but is afraid of doing the right thing right now—to those who need a weatherman, let me tell you that in this country, mandatory buybacks are supported by a majority of Americans,” he said.

O’Rourke told me, “I think that the political leadership, including Democrats, has not caught up to where the people are on this.”

The reaction to his “Hell, yes” moment underscores his point. Congressman David Cicilline of Rhode Island said on Fox News after the debate that O’Rourke’s “message doesn’t help,” while Senator Chris Coons of Delaware told CNN, “I frankly think that that clip will be played for years at Second Amendment rallies with organizations that try to scare people by saying Democrats are coming for your guns.”

“The issue that a lot of gun owners have is that they think Democrats want to take away their guns,” says Mathew Littman, a former Biden speechwriter who now supports Harris and works on gun reform. “So, saying that you want to take away their guns may prove that they’re right. And the problem with it is gun owners and non-gun owners agree on so many things that we could do—universal background checks, red-flag laws. Why don’t we start on the areas we agree upon?”

Sure enough, Republicans pounced on O’Rourke for his buyback plan. A GOP state representative in Texas tweeted, “My AR is ready for you Robert Francis,” while the state’s lieutenant governor, Dan Patrick, rejoiced that O’Rourke “will never be a threat in Texas politics again.” John Thomas, a Republican strategist, told me he is using O’Rourke’s remarks to raise money for congressional races in New York, California and Michigan.

“Beto has fundamentally shifted the messaging on guns in the Democratic primary going forward,” Thomas says. “If you’re a second-tier candidate in the next debate, why wouldn’t you go even a step further than that? Say, ‘Yes, why stop there? We’ve got to do the sin tax on guns, tax ammunition and guns, and give the proceeds to gun victims.’”

O’Rourke could have expected blowback from the right, but he was incredulous at the Democratic criticism of his plan. After Chuck Schumer, the Senate minority leader with a long record on gun control, brushed aside mandatory buybacks, saying, “I don’t know of any other Democrat who agrees with Beto O’Rourke,” the candidate responded by telling reporters to “ask Chuck Schumer what he’s been able to get done.”

***

“Somebody told me—I don’t know if this is true—that the average attention span nationally on gun violence after a horrific mass shooting is three weeks,” O’Rourke said at our dinner in Pittsburgh. He said he does not sense that this time—not for the electorate and, he added, “Not for me.”

Yet it is possible that national attention has already moved past O’Rourke two months after the El Paso shooting and one month after the Houston debate. After the impeachment inquiry into Trump engulfed Washington, Senator Chris Murphy, a Connecticut Democrat who had been in talks with the White House on gun control, acknowledged that the turmoil “may temporarily be the end of the road for a lot of legislative initiatives,” including on guns. In the presidential campaign, the topic has reverted from its once-charged status to its usual, less prominent place among other priorities.

O’Rourke, like many congressional observers, was never optimistic for negotiations with Trump on gun control. Long before Democrats opened their impeachment inquiry, the Republican president spurned a universal background checks bill passed by the House. Talks between Democrats and the White House, O’Rourke said, “never seemed on.”

O’Rourke’s own proposal has been criticized as politically impractical or potentially unconstitutional. When CNN’s Chris Cuomo told O’Rourke last month that he doubted the legality of mandatory buybacks, O’Rourke replied that under the Second Amendment, “the government does have a power to regulate those kinds of weapons that are extraordinarily unusual or deadly.” He told Cuomo he is “willing to fight that one all the way to the end.”

The measure O’Rourke is proposing, he says, is not unlike laws banning any other illegal weapon or substance. “We don’t go door to door to enforce any part of the criminal code,” he told me, “nor would we in this case.” When asked whether penalties could include imprisonment, he said, “A fine, certainly. I don’t know about imprisonment. But it’s something that I’d like to listen to.”

In its uncertainty—surrounding the specifics of the legislation that O’Rourke would support, as well as its prospect of passage—O’Rourke’s proposal is not unlike plans advanced by Democrats on any number of issues, including health care and climate change. And politicians of both parties have long found political value in advancing agendas that are not immediately likely to pass.

Although O’Rourke’s buybacks proposal has had little effect on his campaign’s weak polling, it has allowed him to “put a mark in the book on something relevant,” says Doug Herman, a Democratic strategist. “It takes him out of the abyss and puts him on the trampoline to another office.”

O’Rourke, for now, rejects that possibility. When I pressed at our dinner in Pittsburgh whether any other political office might appeal to him—if not a run for Senate, which he has consistently resisted, perhaps Texas governor, even mayor of El Paso—O’Rourke said no. “I can’t tell you all the reasons why,” he said. “I just can’t even imagine.”

“No,” he said. “I’m running for president.”

If he doesn’t win the presidency, O’Rourke said that “in whatever way I can contribute, I’m going to do that.”

He recalled Lonnie Phillips telling him in Denver that if O’Rourke stopped talking about gun control, he would be “pissed,” and Sean Whalen, a pediatric dentist whose patient was shot to death last year, warning him that “if you lose this election or you don’t get the nomination, if you walk away from this, I would be personally offended.”

O’Rourke told me, “I’m in this for the long haul.”

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[thisdaynews]

F-Bombs Away!

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/f-bombs-away/

F-Bombs Away!

The surprise attack on Hawaii came on a quiet Sunday morning, and it fell to the president of the United States to rally a confused and stricken nation one day later in a momentous address to Congress:

“Yesterday, Dec. 7, 1941—a date which will live as totally fucked up—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by the naval and air forces of Japan.”

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That’s the power of language at work. And who can forget the image of an American commander in chief in Berlin on the front lines of the Cold War: “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this fucking wall.”

Let’s be mature about this. Franklin D. Roosevelt and Ronald Reagan both surely dropped a choice word or two in private, even on solemn subjects like Pearl Harbor and Soviet tyranny. Democrat Beto O’Rourke, meanwhile, has not actually signaled that he will make the F-bomb a central part of his rhetorical arsenal in the unlikely event he becomes the next president.

He is, however, apparently hoping that vulgarity will be an engine of his political revival in the Democratic presidential contest. In doing so, he is part of a confluence of factors serving to mainstream what once counted as the most forbidden entry in the roster of four-letter words.

Notice to reader: The examples above are just two of 14 profanities in this story. Editors decided to skip the coy dashes and asterisks and more straightforward [expletive deleteds]. How else to handle it when a candidate for president infuses a policy statement after a horrific mass shooting with the phrase, “This is fucked up”?

On social media and in interviews, O’Rourke’s profanity has proved to be something of a political Rorschach test.

Pro: He has found a searing and even eloquent way of cutting through the madness and violence of the age. The real obscenity, by these lights, is routine mass shootings and the paralytic response they engender from the governing class, to which O’Rourke’s incredulity is a powerfully authentic rejoinder.

Con: O’Rourke’s profanity is risible, a perfect summary of a campaign that even before was mocked for its alleged preening and Wayne’s World affect. Even if the first time he dropped the F-bomb came as a genuine outburst, his repetition on Twitter and now official campaign T-shirts reveals calculation and contrivance—making his vulgarities the opposite of the authenticity they supposedly convey.

Either way, the Texan’s coarse language is a frivolous dimension of a serious question for Democrats: Should progressive leaders confront the rawness and norm-shattering nature of President Donald Trump’s political style with something similar? Or should they stand for a return to standards that used to be assumed for any presidential contender—including language reflecting the gravity of the office, or at a minimum was G-rated?

Before O’Rourke, the public figure who arguably was most notorious for his prolific use of the F-word was Rahm Emanuel, who kept the salty parlance of a political operative even as he became a member of Congress, White House chief of staff, and mayor of Chicago.

Emanuel, who calls himself “a reformed swearer,” acknowledged in an interview, “I’ve got this notorious reputation and I’m not saying that I don’t swear but you’ve never heard me publicly swear. … I actually don’t think it’s the right thing to do.”

“I think people are being exhausted by vulgarity and I think [the candidates] should be engaging people on the future” through the power of ideas, Emanuel explained.

But some other Obama White House veterans were more tolerant of O’Rourke’s rhetorical excesses.

“It’s good for him to show a little emotion and get angry so that people can see exactly where he stands and that he will fight for what he believes in,” said Stephanie Cutter, Obama’s former 2012 deputy campaign manager and cofounder of Precision Strategies.

“Most candidates do talk like this and they talk like this to their teams and at the bar with reporters, and they get credit for being real people and not engaged in some veneer,” said former Obama press operative Ben LaBolt. “Beto has used it to demonstrate outrage about some really outrageous issues that the United States should have been able to solve many years ago, and so his approach would distinguish himself from somebody who would serve in the Senate and say ‘my dear friend’ and ‘my dear colleague.’”

By so frequently crossing a line that once might have been career-ending, O’Rourke is partly changing the political culture, and partly reflecting changes that are already underway.

As far back as September 2014, Trump tweeted: “Every time I speak of the haters and losers I do so with great love and affection. They can not help the fact that they were born fucked up!” More recently, in late March of this year, Trump told a campaign rally that Democrats should stop “defrauding the public with ridiculous bullshit.”

In June 2017, Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand, who recently ended her presidential campaign, tried to stir a conference on technology and democracy by imploring, “If we are not helping people, we should go the fuck home.”

At the start of the year, newly elected Democratic Rep. Rashida Tlaib made a splash by saying of Trump, “We’re gonna impeach the motherfucker.”

Another newly elected member of Congress, Abigail Spanberger of Virginia, was recently quoted by The Cut noting the annoyance of being asked as a female candidate about her “self-care” on the campaign trail: “I’m like, ‘I don’t have fucking self-care! I’m running for Congress.’”

But O’Rourke is the one who has made the word his signature. After making his Texas Senate race surprisingly competitive, before narrowly losing, in 2018, O’Rourke went viral with his concession speech in which he praised supporters, “I’m so fucking proud of you guys.”

When he began his bid for president, O’Rourke was scolded at a campaign stop by a voter who urged him to “clean up his act” and not use profanity in ways were children will hear it. “Point taken, and very strongly made,” O’Rourke replied, promising to “keep it clean.”

But last month, meeting with reporters after the mass shooting in his hometown of El Paso, O’Rourke seemed impatient with what he regarded as the naivete of some questions about Trump’s role in inciting violence. “Members of the press, what the fuck?!” he exclaimed.

There are two facts about the F-word that most people learn early in their teenage years: The reaction it gets depends on context, and its shock value tends to diminish rapidly. O’Rourke’s initial uses of the word did seem a little like a young person at a family dinner:Wonder how the table will respond?

On balance, O’Rourke seems pleased with the reaction, at least among the people he cares most about. After new shootings in Texas, he went on CNN last Sunday morning to say: “We’re averaging about 300 mass shootings a year. No other country comes close. So, yes, this is fucked up.” He also defended his swearing by saying that it was “just honest” and important “to shock the conscience of this country.”

O’Rourke’s campaign also noted that all of the proceeds for his profane T-shirt go to March for Our Lives and Moms Demand.

Brit Hume, the prominent Fox News journalist, commented on Twitter, “As if his sewermouth will somehow give his argument more power.”

But Matt Bennett, a Democratic strategist unaffiliated with any presidential campaign and long-time gun control advocate, believes O’Rourke was rightly trying to shake people and signal that conventional politics isn’t adequate in the context of recurring mass murders.

“I think he’s decided that profanity can help him add emphasis where other language fails,” said Bennett. “Indeed, how else does one underscore their anger with, frustration at, and contempt for public officials who fail to act in the face of such horror? We all have been railing about this for years (decades in my case). How else do we signal that this situation is singularly obscene?”

George Lakoff, a retired Berkeley linguist who has written extensively on how Democrats sometimes lose political arguments by not effectively employing the power of language, was uncertain on the wisdom of O’Rourke’s shattering of old proprieties. “It’s basically saying: This is really important. Pay attention.”

O’Rourke may have grabbed attention, but it’s not clear how long he will keep it, at least based on the power of profanity. Forty-five years ago, the country was shocked by the prodigious use of Oval Office profanity—often as part of contemptuous and vindictive rants against opponents—by Richard Nixon and his aides when the White House tapes were released. The news media, reflecting the standards of the time, didn’t print the words but replaced them with “[expletive deleted].” Anticipating Tlaib by several decades, protesters outside the White House gates carried placards saying “Impeach the expletive deleted!”

But a generation that currently has made a star of Lana Del Ray and her album “Norman Fucking Rockwell” with its hit song “Fuck It, I Love you” isn’t likely to stay shocked, or perhaps even interested, for very long by O’Rourke’s language.

Back in 2004, when then-Vice President Dick Cheney told Democratic Sen. Patrick Leahy to “Go fuck yourself” on the floor of the Senate, many news organizations debated internally about how to report the obviously newsworthy exchange—since it involved words that were forbidden by their editorial standards.

Those qualms seem irrelevant in the current climate.

Veteran reporter Nicholas Lemann, a former dean of Columbia University’s school of journalism, said these days, as politics grows more openly coarse, the news media should have no compunction about just reporting exactly what public figures say. The old notion of news organizations as a kind of unifying public square, in which editors had to primly enforce rules to ensure that the most sensitive people in the audience weren’t offended, has gone by the wayside now that every online reader is essentially his or her own editor.

“If they said it, you should quote it,” Lemann advises.

Another journalist, James Fallows, also served as a stint as a speechwriter for Jimmy Carter, who he recalled sometimes swore in private but very rarely.

He sees O’Rourke’s language as a sign of the times.

“As an old guy,” said Fallows, who last month turned 70, “I’ll avoid any decline in civilization, but I guess until recently public figures felt that they had to observe a public-private barrier. … Politicians have always been earthy people, but we are seeing the time, at least for the moment, the earthiness membrane is being pierced or is permeable.”

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