Anything I Can Do, Government Does Better!

Greetings, sports fans.

I'm going to dive in and dive out and try to keep this brief.

Remember when I told you I was working on a post about the commerce clause? Umm, yeah, didn't think so.

But the commerce clause in the Constitution is incredibly and unfathomably important. I'm talking, "you'll never get your head around it" mind-bending.

Why? Because it's the one clause in the Constitution that . . . ostensibly . . . purportedly . . . (and in grossly simplified, liquified terms) lets Congress do whatever the hell it wants.

And oh, do we know Congress does whatever it wants.

Watch here as Elena Kagan tries to "slip slide it away" in her confirmation hearing, when a committee member asks her the straight-forward question: are there are any limits on Congress's ability to regulate society?

Any limits whatsoever?

Brace yourself for the answer. Get ready for goose bumps.



Please watch this.

Please.

I know I'm asking you to be a law nerd. But indulge me.

Because her answer is scary.
______________________________

P.S.: At least someone in Congress read George Will's excellent article. Perhaps now, gentle readers, you can understand why I'm all verklempt about the apparently limitless commerce clause.

"After she rejected him, did he Tip-per?"

Ha. Ha, ha, ha.

You've surely heard about the Gore sex-assault scandal by now, and the infamous "You're a crazed sex poodle!" uttered by his accuser, plastered on Drudge.

But don't let McChrystal or the oil spill or Elena Kagan's nomination hearings drown out this woman's story. And for God's sake, don't let "Bite Me" Biden's "you're a smart ass" remark, made to a "small people" custard man (who merely joked his taxes could be lowered) crowd it out.

Her story ought not be dismissed. It's wrenching.

Here's an article that discusses the scandal with a fairly broad brush; but the left-leaning writer does conclude the woman, now in her mid-fifties, is telling the truth -- primarily because there's been no Gore denial.

(He does, however, recall he received a massage in Portland on the night in question, per his aides, after which he and Tipper apparently made some curious real estate conveyances).

After reading the entire transcript of her police interview, I, too, conclude the woman is being truthful because, well, you just can't make this stuff up. Even the name of the police woman present for the interview, Slavica Bubic, screams authenticity.

I couldn't help but laugh when the massage therapist mentally tried to downplay Gore's overly-long hug, delivered when she first arrived, as

"something like 'new age politician in casual mode' greeting * * * and because he had been the VIP, a kind of beneficent patriarch thing going on, it seemed."

After she refused Al's attempt to dim the lights to a ridiculously low level, he asked her to work on his abdomen, gluteus and adductors (inner-thigh muscles). And this peculiar request did give her pause. But, given his stature, family life, and environmental altruism, she proceeded on with the massage.

She couldn't imagine him being "anything less than a model of stellar integrity." But, alas, he proved only to be a stellar model of an entitled, demanding, why-aren't-you-fawning-over-me, frightening man.

Mr. Gore lost all control, moaning and groaning, yelling and screaming, displaying wild mood swings (and doing other things I won't mention because I'd rather not be visited by that kind of Google forager. You can read the gory details here).

Said the woman, "I never saw anybody's mood just go like this (snaps fingers). It made me go, 'this man should never be in charge of the red button.'"

Terrified, she did her best to deflect his anger and to "talk him down." At one point she asked him, reprovingly, what sort of comment his conduct said about his marriage. When that enraged him, she tried to tsk-tsk diffuse him, by noting that of course marriages are private and only the spouses know the measure of their marriage, to wit: Hillary and Bill.

Oops. The poor woman had forgotten that in Gore's eyes, Monica-gate had cost him the election. Her reference to Bill and Hill inflamed Gore all the more.

At one point, he put his entire "rotund" body on top of hers and refused to get up. "Get off me, you big lummox!" she shouted at an impassive Gore who giggled like a giant Cheshire cat, playing with a mouse.

Finally she diverted his attention by pointing out a bowl of chocolates in the room. This worked fairly well -- "the old chocolate distraction," as the knowing woman detective put it -- and she was ultimately able to escape the room unraped. Though not before Gore forced french kisses on her, and another crude, painful groping.

She explained that she waited to contact the police in part because her "Birkenstock tribe" discouraged her. (Remember, she is from Portland.) To turn in Al Gore would have made her "like the ultimate traitor." Indeed, one person asked her to "just suck it up, otherwise the world is going to be destroyed from global warming."

She did, however, contact the Portland Women's Crisis Line within seventy-two hours and reported the incident to a counselor.

Claims that she later came forward for money are utterly false. Read the woman's account. It's more than credible.

Alrighty then. No punch line, here. I'll just end with the oft-repeated adage, now repeated in the context of the global-warming Gore: "Beware the prophet who profits."



Oops: sorry. Meant to link to George Will on the Kagan situation.

"BP" Doesn't Stand For "Bottomless Pit"

After one of my own oil spills, a kind reader remarked, "my heart breaks for your obvious distress" or words to that effect. At the time, it seemed a tad dramatic.

Now? Not so much.

This disaster is truly too huge to fathom. Every oil-laden wave strikes a blow to our country's psyche.

So to get a handle on how big this really is, let's gently put the oil-drenched pelicans aside for a moment, and follow the money.

Moody's Investor Service says the oil catastrophe could be worse than the global recession. Chew on that for a while.

In another onerous development, the prices for credit-default swap contracts for BP (how much it costs a BP creditor to insure against BP's default on a loan) have skyrocketed.

Now it will cost BP a pile of pounds to borrow money. The headlines say it all: "Credit Markets Treat BP as if it were Rated Junk." Sickening news indeed.

Credit Suisse is a shade more optimistic, tagging BP's exposure at $37 billion. It arrived at this number based on ultra-conservative estimates of exactly how many barrels of oil are gushing into the gulf each day.

Matt Simmons (who, you should know, has a dog in this hunt) says there is a lake of oil sitting on the sea bed. This "lake," he claims, is over 100 miles wide, and 400 to 500 feet in depth.

You can paint the coastal towns black, he says, if a hurricane picks up this under-water plume.

One recent news report lends anecdotal support to Simmons's claim that our long national nightmare has yet to be realized, while the oil lurks and lingers beneath the gulf's surface.



On a brighter note, the delta dawned on Obama. His administration announced Sunday that the President understands we have an immense, immeasurable crisis on our hands.

Phew!

The crisis is so dire in fact, that Obama will be addressing our nation in a few short days, live from his Churchill-shorn Oval Office.

Downplaying Explaining the President's upcoming address, David Axelrod said the oil "saga" has reached "an inflection point." (Which is better than a "tipping" one, don't you think?)

Now then. Let us raise our voices in perfect pitch, shall we?

But never genuflecting, Axe continued on in his unaffected baritone, seeking to reassure: BP has "the prospect of continuing."

Oh, David! Think again.

Obama wants BP to escrow billions to cover estimated damages. But this cannot be done.

With $12 billion in cash on hand and about $236 billion in total assets, BP is inarguably big. Still, "BP" does not stand for "bottomless pit."

So look for Obama -- as he's done with everything else -- to call BP's escrow a "down payment." This disingenuous wiggle-room phrase must poll well, given its ubiquity.

Where the rest of the money will come from is anyone's guess.

As is how much will be the grand total, or the time it will take to tally. Because it will take years to assess the damage. Years.

The fines imposed by the Clear Clean Water Act are but one example. Under this act, BP will owe the U.S. government more than $9 billion -- assuming 40,000 barrels are spilling into the gulf every day, as many experts believe.

In a related note, government-assembled experts want to send equipment down to better measure the flow, when BP switches the "caps" yet again. To date, BP hasn't responded to this request.

Small wonder BP keeps stalling and low-balling the barrels-per-day estimates.

No less comforting, BP estimates its clean-up costs at around $6 billion.

So now then. What might be the losses to Floridians? Early estimates predict the state will lose 195,000 jobs and $11 billion dollars in tourism income.

In northern Florida, at least one legislator is considering an immediate lowering of property values to give affected owners instant relief.

But such a measure would dramatically lower tax receipts, leading to drastic cuts in city services, "tax seepage" into inland counties, decapitating muni-bond ratings.

Tourism between Mississippi and the Florida panhandle accounts for nearly 4 billion dollars annually. Some estimates show tourism revenue in this area is already down some fifty percent. Hotel cancellations are at a fever pitch and extend well into the foreseeable future.

Who will get paid and when? By the time Captiva is inked in black oil, I'm afraid BP will be long gone.

The real estate horror in Florida was already hemorrhaging red; foreclosures before this crisis were unthinkably bad. But now? The state we call Florida will soon be Floriclosure.

Throw Louisiana, Alabama, and Mississippi into the mix, and short-sighted calls for BP boycotts (which only hurt American franchisees), coupled with Obama's crisp and grammatical, "whose-ass-to-kick"?

Shhhhh (whisper, whisper) but bankruptcy may be the only viable option for this self-insured company.

Indeed, Texaco v. Pennzoil provides an awfully enticing model for BP. Cast off the offending limb and proceed anew in a different body, is basically how it works.

So, President Obama? Could you please dial down the down-with-BP, I'd-have-already-fired-Hayward nonsense?

Why cut off our noses to spite our fate? Like Chris Matthews said, "This is more important than a presidency."

But oh, gentle readers, lest you truly despair, fret not. Admiral Watson is from the government and he's here to help.

On Friday, he boldly wrote BP, to wit:

“I am concerned that your current plans do not provide for maximum mobilization of resources to provide the needed collection capacity consistent with the revised flow estimates. Recognizing the complexity of the challenge, every effort must be expended to speed up the process.”

Even I was moved by his direct and to the pointedness.

Now, the press is calling the admiral's missive an ultimatum. Umm, okay. Whatever it is, it has no teeth. "BP, you've got until Sunday to come up with a better plan or . . . or . . . "

If I were Obama, I'd take "incompetent" over "impotent" any minute of the day, any day of the week.

Say, ever wonder how our government can claim BP is sucking up half of the leaking oil when it has no idea whatsoever what the total amount leaking is? I have to ask, are we just throwing darts here?

Alrighty then.

Is there a silver lining to be found in all of this? Any good news to report at all?

Well, err, yes, actually. Coastal properties in Spain are getting a nice little bump.

Walmart: "We'll Match Any Competitor's Price" . . . Sort of.

In this Mexican circular scandal, a Walmart in Midlothian, Texas, refused to honor a certain competitor's price solely because it was "Mexican."

"Their quality is inferior to ours," said the manager. A nearby cashier agreed, chiming in, "Their quality is really low.

And get this. The coupon-wielding customer? Is a Mexican-American.

But it gets worse . . . for Walmart. Ms. Amy Yates-Garmatz writes a consumer blog, "Penny Pinching," for a local network.

Bwahahaha.

When Amy presented the circular from the El Rio Grande grocery, advertising chicken for $1.00 a pound, at check-out, the new Walmart cashier didn't know how to process "comp" or competitor coupons. So she called her customer service manager for help.

The manager was of no help, however. She told Amy that Walmart wouldn't give her El Rio Grande's price on the chicken because El Rio's product was inferior, being that it was a Mexican grocery and all.

But Amy held her ground -- for nearly thirty minutes -- and the manager eventually relented.

After getting the run-around from the suits at Walmart's corporate office, and understandably outraged, Amy took her cause to her employer, a television news station. What happened next, of course, was predictable.

Walmart issued a carefully worded apology, saying its policy is to match the prices of all "local competitors" for "identical products" and that it would take steps to "reinforce" its policy with Walmart employees.

But, umm, hasn't Walmart had this policy for a while? Not to mention, Walmart operates its own grocery stores in Mexico. Would Walmart say its Walmex stores are inferior?



Amy kindly posted Walmart's 1-800 customer service number on her blog: 1-800-925-6278. Click here to read the story in her own words.

Superman is Back!

Finally Obama channels Billy Nungesser of Plaquemines, sort of.



"I don't sit around just talking to experts because this is a college seminar!" he exclaimed to Matt Lauer in an interview to air tomorrow.

He's cursing. In "bring 'em on" Bush fashion, he wants to kick some a#*.

This oil spill could be a potential crisis.

And lest you thought otherwise, this is NOT, repeat NOT, a college seminar.

Maureen Dowd must be feeling mighty proud.

So what do you think? Was this a "bullhorn" moment?

Umm, Sir, We've Got a Really Bad Headline -- Update 2

Ruh-roh.


Per Richard Wolffe, a frequent guest on the Keith Olbermann show, Obama has known since Day One that this oil "spill" was super, super-duper bad. Armageddon bad. End-of-the-Ocean-As-We-Know-It bad. A 10.0 on the Richter Scale.

Yet the golfing . . .



and fundraising . . . .



and miscellaneous hobnobbing . . .





and Marv Alpert baseball interviews continued. Unabashedly. Unabated.


All this, when Obama knew the entire time that this was the worst environmental crisis ever to have occurred in our country's history.

Good God Almighty.

And for my detractors, this footnote: "The Daily Show" makes up much of my source.

The clip shown below, mind you, was broadcast long before we discovered that Obama has known the magnitude of this utter and as-yet unmitigated, planet-wide disaster since it began.

I'll say it again: this is not a good headline.

Here's the John Stewart clip:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
The Spilling Fields
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

And to those of you who would say I'm being unfair or partisan, I give you this, printed and published over and over and over and over again, by the press:

They showed no mercy then. And we owe them none now.

Frankly, I wouldn't be quite so damned mad if Obama hadn't suckled at the teat of BP and given them the benefit of the doubt when this underwater geyser first spouted.

What would I have done differently? Deploy supertankers immediately, to suck up everything in sight; all available military troops within our country's border would have hit the beaches that night. And all that still undeployed boom resting idle on the shores of Louisiana? The Coast Guard would have ordered into action.

And that's just for starters.

Sure it's easy to Monday-morning quarterback this disaster. Except that these calls don't require hindsight. Or a Presidential office. They're intuitive.

Especially when Obama knew, from Day One of the well blowing, that he had an enormous crisis on his hands.

Perhaps Obama was distracted by the Turkish flotilla that came late this week, loaded (by all estimable reports) with terrorists trying to enter Gaza. Israelis entered the flotilla with paint ball guns, only to be forced into battle and subsequently scorned, unfairly, with international outrage.

Now we know what happened. Israel was right. But did Obama stand with Israel? Hell no. He still needs to gather more facts, you see.

Please.

We all know Israel's intelligence is exceptional. If Israel, which merely required a quick inspection (which this flotilla stubbornly refused) says there were bad guys on board, that's good enough for me.

The rational world is growing weary and leery of Obama's international apologies and "fact- gathering" delays, be they oil-related or otherwise. And so am I.

*Updated 6/5/2010 @6:57 p.m. to correct a typo

* Updated again to add link to supertanker solution.

Big P and the Man from Plaquemines

On the oil spill, pundits say, they can offer Obama little comfort.

A profound pronouncement? And a circular one at that? You bet.

But it's no better than Obama's forgettable quote on Friday:

"My job right now is just to make sure everybody in the Gulf understands: This is what I wake up to in the morning, and this is what I go to bed at night thinking about. The spill."

(Sorry, but the "spill"? The "spill"?!? And his primary job is to make sure we understand he's thinking about it? Axe, are you on vacation or something? Axe . . . ?)

More reassuring was Big P's priceless quote from its stunningly empathic CEO: "I would like my life back." (So would we all, my friend, so would we all. And the livelihoods of Louisianans, while you're at it.)

Seriously though, I think I've found someone who can help Spock Obama. Someone he can model himself after, during this unfolding nightmare.

Now, the fellow I have in mind is no super model, I'll grant you that. Obama would crush him in a pick-up game, in two minutes flat.

But if you're looking for a "bullhorn" man, may I present the rotund, frank, and clearly feeling Billy Nungesser of Louisiana's Plaquemines ("plack-a-means") Parish.



This ADD fellow -- who gets things done, by the way -- is a man after my own heart, and my country's.

By way of example, here's a snippet from a recent New York Times profile of wild-marsh Bill:

How did Mr. Nungesser come to own an elk ranch in the parish?

The elk, he said late Thursday night over a 10-minute dinner of Sun Chips and soda, were bought from a man in Nebraska with the money he got from selling his house to his sister when he went to live in a shipping container.

A few minutes later, he added:

“I had a Jacuzzi,” he clarified. “It was nice.”

See why I love this guy, nonsequiturs and all?

Because he's real. He's there. And he cares.

"The buck stops with me," said the president. "And the muck does, too," said I. And Billy.