Bad Gas

Clifford May:

A hundred years ago, Americans could use typewriters, the telegraph and primitive telephones. Today, Americans have computers, the Internet, cell phones, satellite television and radio, DVDs, iPods, email and instant messaging.

A hundred years ago, Americans could have personal vehicles powered by internal combustion engines running on gasoline. Today, Americans can have personal vehicles powered by internal combustion engines running on gasoline.

You see the problem?

Jonah Goldberg:

We are horribly dependent on foreign oil. But we shouldn't develop domestic oil or boost our refining capacity. We need a gas tax to wean Americans from foreign oil, but high gas prices are an outrage. We need alternative forms of energy, but we shouldn't use nuclear power. We need renewable, sustainable energy, unless it spoils the view of rich liberal icons.

Got it?

World Tribune:

Qatari Energy Minister Abdullah Bin Hamad Al Attiyah said the price of oil would drop by $15 should politicians end their expressions of concern over a halt in supplies.

Al Attiyah said the record oil prices of more than $75 per barrel was the result of fears and speculation within the market.

I’ll admit to some mixed feelings about high gas prices: I hate them. I hate adding up what I’m spending every month. I hate thinking about the movies and pizzas and shoes that money could have bought. Plus, gas prices make everything else more expensive. Everything in this room was delivered – either here or to a store – by truck.

A big, heavy, gas-driven truck.

On the other hand, we all agree that we should find some way to be less dependent on foreign oil. As long as gas is cheap (defined, for the moment, as less than $2.50 a gallon), we’ve got no real incentive to do that.

On the other hand, if we do things to lessen our dependence on foreign oil – allow more domestic drilling, invest more in nuclear power, make it easier to build new refineries (including, dare I say it, in Manitowoc and Superior, to refine the oil we drill from the Great Lakes) – that’s going to bring prices down.

Eventually. Thus removing said incentive. Ironic.

Just what should a gallon of gas cost? I’ve read that it’s hardly changed from a generation ago, when you adjust for inflation.

All that means to me is: gas was way too expensive back then.

When things are in demand, prices go up. That’s the law. Except, sometimes, it isn’t. For example, if you’re reading this, you’re doing so on a computer. The cost of computers has dropped significantly over the last decade. Ditto VCRs, CDs, etc.

Why? Because we’ve found better, faster, more efficient ways to make them. Because competition has forced it.

This analysis doesn’t work universally. Cars keep getting more expensive, no matter how many of them we buy.

But. It’s not set in stone that a product’s price will rise over time. Competition can cure that.

So what should a gallon of gas cost? Less than it does. That much seems obvious, simply because the US government should get its nose out of the energy business, and put it...well, just leave it. Don’t put it anywhere. Stand perfectly still.

We could increase supply by increasing domestic drilling and building more refineries. We could reduce demand by building more nuclear reactors.

Any of those will take a decade – maybe more – to have any impact. Plus, there’s more to the price of gas than our domestic energy policies. For some reason, those places that have the most oil also seem to be most prone to political unrest, schizophrenic despotism, and terrorist infestation.

Gee, if only we had the most professional, powerful, unstoppable military in history, we could just invade, occupy, and bring real stability to the world’s oil supply.

That wasn’t a serious suggestion, of course. Well, okay, it was a little bit serious. It was a war for oil, wasn’t it?

So gas prices hurt. They’re dragging on our economy, whether the numbers show it or not.

But I’ll live with it. Mostly because I have to. I’m an American. We drive.

I’ll live with it more happily, if higher prices drag us out of our own contradictory policies. Our demand for lower prices; our fear of drilling, nukes, refineries; our dislike and distrust and regular purchases of oil from dictatorships, particularly Jihad-prone ones.

Looking at it that way, I wish we’d been paying $3 for gas ten years ago.

One More Year

UPDATE - When I speak, people listen!

Will he, or won’t he?

Should he, or shouldn’t he?

Last but not least, do we want him to, or not?

As we head into the NFL draft this weekend, Brett Favre has yet to make a decision (at least publicly) about his future. About whether or not he will be back for another season in Green Bay.

The general consensus is turning to annoyance. What’s he waiting for? Why is it taking so long? For the second straight year, it seems, the Packers will go into draft day not knowing whether they have an All-World player or an untested youngster at quarterback.

Last week, the Journal Sentinel ran an online poll, asking: “Would you trade Brett Favre if he agreed to it and the Packers could get a first-round draft pick in return?”

Of over 14,000 votes, 64% said yes. I admit, I was one of them.

And why not? Is Green Bay poised for a Superbowl run? Probably not. Even if Favre does come back, will it be for more than a single year? Seems doubtful.

If we have to rebuild, we might as well get started now, instead of a year from now. Two first round draft picks would make that pill go down easier.

And yet…I doubt.

Here’s why: Favre is in second place on several all-time achievement lists. He’s only 289 completions behind Dan Marino’s record of 4,967; only 24 touchdowns behind Marino’s 420; and only 7,746 passing yards behind Marino.

Okay, so that last one is untouchable, at least for this year. Favre would need two more seasons, probably, maybe three, to break it.

But the others are within one season’s reach. One relatively average, even below-average season.

So here’s my best reason for wanting Favre to come back. I want those records.

In fact, I deserve those records. Green Bay’s fans, and Favre’s fans, deserve those records. The Packer franchise deserves them.

I know, now somebody’s going to come at me with the definition of “deserve.” Don’t be annoying. I was loyal during the 1980s, the Forrest Gregg years, the annual 4-12 seasons, the constant and humiliating knowledge that humiliation was the only constant for the steadfast and devoted Packer fan.

Vince Lombardi once said: “If you’re not fired with enthusiasm, you’ll be fired with enthusiasm.” Well, I was fired with enthusiasm every single Sunday. Lambeau Field was packed with fans every single Sunday. That season-ticket waiting list didn’t hit the five-figure mark during the 1990s, you know. It was already there, even during the dark years.

We deserved a comeback, and we got it. Three straight appearances in the NFC championship game, including two championships, one of them won by beating San Francisco on their own field. Two straight Superbowls, and one victory. Three Reggie White sacks. Three MVPs for Favre.

And it’s been a decade since all that happened. And now, we may be headed into the wilderness again.

Maybe not – we can’t be sure. All we can be sure of is our own uncertainty. The cold knotted feeling that the glory days may be over for yet another generation. Maybe not, but maybe so. That’s all we know for sure.

That, and that Brett Favre can throw 290 completions and 25 touchdowns in one season. And that he can throw for 7,747 yards in two.

Gimme those records. If I can’t have anything else, give me those. Give that one last bit of glory to the Packer franchise. The Packer legend.

Right, Favre’s never been about the records. He’s always been about the game, and the team, and the wins. He shouldn’t come back just to chase numbers. It would be wrong. Selfish. Counter to the whole Packer mystique.

Blah. Blah. Blah blah blah blah blah.

It’s not about him. It’s about me. About us. The fans. The franchise. Our loyalty. We deserve those records.

I know, there’s a guy in Indianapolis who’ll be knocking on the door in a few more years. It might not take him long to break those records again.

Anything can happen. Has no one else noticed how skinny he is?

Favre has plenty of reasons to call it quits today. He doesn’t need the money. He doesn’t need the fame. He isn’t likely to see another Superbowl.

Will he miss the game? Probably. If he hangs them up, I know I’ll miss him. And I’ll wonder what might have happened, if he’d given us just one more year.

Maybe two.

Let's Be Careful Out There

Be careful what you wish for. So the saying goes.

It means that what we wish for and what we get may not be the same thing. Or, that what we wish for may not be as great as we think it will be, once we get it.

That’s not to say we won’t get what we wish for, or that it won’t be as great as we think. But it might not be. That’s all.

That’s what I thought of when I heard the latest WEAC news. WEAC, Wisconsin’s teacher’s union, may have been caught in a financial indiscretion.

LEESBURG, Va., April 20/PRNewswire/ -- Landmark Legal Foundation today asked the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) to investigate numerous activities by the National Education Association's Wisconsin affiliate, the Wisconsin Education Association Council (WEAC) that may have violated federal tax law.

According to Landmark, WEAC gave $430,000 to the Democratic Legislative Campaign Committee (DLCC) in 2000 and 2002 – money that helped pay for state legislative races in California “and other states.”

This is, I’m given to understand, illegal. If I understand correctly, political contributions fall outside the limits of tax exempt status. Thus, these expenditures should have been reported to the IRS, but weren’t.

Sounds illegal. Shameful. Corrupt, even. Could lead to some bad things – high-profile perp walks, six-figure fines, crumbling influence in Wisconsin’s political world.

Or it might have been a bureaucratic oversight. An honest mistake. A low-level screw-up. We don’t know. Not yet.

I’d prefer the former, honestly, as un-Christian a sentiment as that is. And I’ll predict (and expect) the latter.

The thing is, the latter might be the better for my side.

“My side,” defined as those of us who don’t believe that more money equals better education; who don’t buy the line about WEAC being all about the kids; and who aren’t surprised to see Wisconsin members’ dues being used to support Democrat candidates in other states.

That’s another potential source of trouble for WEAC – their own members. Why are dues paid by Wisconsin teachers, in Wisconsin schools, under Wisconsin laws, going to support politics and politicians in other states?

It’s always fun to watch political adversaries fighting amongst themselves. I’ll enjoy it, if that’s what comes of this. Still, one has to wonder what will come of this, and of that.

Top union officials forced to step down? Maybe. And they’ll be replaced with…fiscal conservatives? Education advocates whose idea of reform is school choice and merit pay?

You may hold your breath. I will not be holding mine.

Six-figure (or bigger) fines? Maybe. That could hurt – WEAC spent nearly $2 million on elections in 2004, $1.4 million in 2002, and just over $1 million in 2000. Fines might put a kink in their campaign spending for a year – or maybe not. Money being fungible, they could probably make up for the fine elsewhere in their multi-million dollar budget.

And that’s after several years of legal wrangling.

A revolt from within? Maybe. And then…what? Like-minded educrats making like-minded decisions, with one big difference: instead of spending that $430,000 on politics in other states, they keep it here, in Wisconsin.

The results of a big blowup could be exactly this: nothing, a hardening of WEAC partisanship, and even more money available to influence Wisconsin politics.

Be careful what you wish for. Check.

Now, here’s my best case scenario: rank-and-file members start to question what their dues are used for a little more closely, especially regarding political contributions.

Unexpected bonus: right-leaning teachers start speaking out more.

The public – already cynical about politics, politicians, and political proxies – begins to see through WEAC’s kid-friendly veneer. These guys are about power and influence, not about kids.

Public contempt plus internal discontent coalesce to soften the blatantly partisan hardball of WEAC politics. This turns a partisan warrior into a more open, moderate, and pliable realist, both in political money and policy position.

And the tooth fairy will finally get back to me about that molar she stiffed me on 30 years ago. With interest.

We in the political sphere love to blow things up, and we’ll blow this up along with all the rest. I’ll help. It’ll be fun.

But while we’re drooling over the possibilities, let’s be sure we’re not leaning over our keyboards. It’s the tastiest treats that make you fat.

Crying Wolf

Remember the story “The Boy Who Cried Wolf?”

Sure you do. Everybody does. The little shepherd boy gets bored, so he yells “wolf!” Everybody comes running...big joke! No wolf. He does it again. And again. Finally, when a wolf really appears, nobody believes him. Nobody comes running.

The moral of the story: don’t lie, because you’ll be branded a liar. Nobody will believe you even when you tell the truth.

There are other versions. For example, the child leaves home, falls on tough times, asks for money. The parents give it. It happens again. And again. And again.

It’s not easy to cut the kids off. Tell them: no more. Learn to swim on your own. Not easy, but it happens. You can only go to the same well so many times.

Isn’t it past time we cut them off? And when I say “them,” I mean our government, which keeps coming back, again, and again, and again, with the same old story. Not enough money!

Some examples:

• By their own numbers, Baraboo School district spending is growing about 5% a year;
  
  
• The current state budget is about 10% bigger than the last state budget;
  
  
• The state’s transportation budget is $2.4 billion, 11% bigger than last time;
  
  
• Federal discretionary spending has grown almost 10% a year the last 5 years – total federal spending is up over 6% a year, twice as fast as it grew during the Clinton administration.

Not enough, not enough, and still not enough. Not enough for the people writing the budget, not enough for the interest groups that want the money.

If there’s ever been a time when this wasn’t the case – when agencies and interest groups and department heads said things like no, no, we don’t need any more. We’re funded fine. More than enough, really – I’m not aware of it. Not during my lifetime. It’s always the same – we don’t have enough. We need more.

Over and over and over again. And over again. Always.

For so long. So many times. And still, we listen. Still, we – some of us – believe.

And do the predictions of catastrophe ever come true?

Well, no. The sky remains firmly ensconced above us.

Where is the boy-who-cried-wolf effect? Why, when the same thing happens year after year, do we all not scream in unison with hands thrown into the air, BULL?

This is particularly troubling, seeing that we generally despise government. Even those who rely on it distrust it, shake their heads at the arrogance, wastefulness, ineptitude of government.

We don’t trust Congress. We don’t like bureaucracy. Everybody hates the DMV.

But we keep footing the bill. Never a cutoff point. Never a time when they’ve come to the well just once too often.

Why? One possibility: we’re removed from the pain of payment. Taxes are deducted from our paychecks. Tax Day is in April – far distant from Election Day. Property taxes come due in December. Same story.

We could change those things. I’d love to. Except it’s so implausible, impractical, entirely unlikely to happen. Probably.

Plus, I doubt it would change anything.

Go back to the Boy Who Cried Wolf, but this time, instead of running out into the cold night air yourself, axe in hand, you just send the guy next door. It’s his job, not yours. You can stay inside, in your easy chair, watching TV, sipping hot cocoa with a dash of brandy, while the other guy goes to check.

And the sheep are so important – every call should be answered, just in case. Every single call. Irresponsible, otherwise. Dangerous.

Fifty percent of Americans don’t pay federal income taxes (I’m one of them). Seventy-five percent of Americans pay about 16% of all federal income taxes. We get to enjoy the fruits of others’ labor – the services paid for with others’ taxes.

Somebody else has to answer the shepherd boy’s calls.

Now, I’m not about to suggest higher taxes on anybody – not with taxes already taking nearly a dollar out of every three earned (and that’s just the taxes!). So I don’t seem to have a solution. Just an observation. Most of us have more incentive to protect the status quo.

Government agencies cry wolf, just like that little boy. They need more, and dire things – dire things! – will happen if they don’t get it. And we always answer the call.

I, for one, am ready to cut them off. Send them away. Ignore it, even if this time, the wolf is real.

What a Game!

It’s called a sacrifice.

In chess, when one player puts himself at a disadvantage by letting a piece be taken, we call it a sacrifice. At least, when he does it on purpose.

When it’s a game between masters, the people watching catch their breath: a sacrifice! He let his opponent take his rook, his knight, his queen. He’s giving his opponent a temporary advantage – but it’s really only the illusion of an advantage. He’s got a plan.

Sometimes it doesn’t work out the way he wants, but in chess, we know that’s what’s happening. We expect it.

Hearken back to January of 1998. San Diego. Packers vs. Broncos in Superbowl XXXII.

Fourth quarter, game tied, Broncos driving. Again. Running the ball at will. And now they’re in position to score again. They might take the lead with only seconds to go.

Head Coach Mike Holmgren says: we have to let them score.

Yipe.

What? No! In football, you never let the other team score. It’s not done. Ever.

But in this case, it was their only chance. They risked everything to give their offense one more try, with a little time left on the clock. Risked everything for a chance to win.

We didn’t know that Holmgren did it on purpose. Let them score. We thought: damn. Our throats tightened. We were dismayed, aghast, disheartened.

But we still knew we had a chance. Until that fourth-and-ten pass was batted to the ground, we knew it wasn’t over. We had Brett Favre, greatest quarterback ever.

That sacrifice didn’t turn out the way we wanted it to. I’m still mad at Denver. Put the teeth away, Elway. Out of my face, please.

I always turn to the sports analogies this time of year – the Lenten season, Good Friday, Easter. It’s the risk-everything-to-win angle. The miraculous comeback. The thrill of victory is so much sweeter, the closer we come to defeat.

The day Jesus was arrested, did his disciples think: we still have a chance? There’s still hope? After all, Pontius Pilate might have let him go.

But then he was crucified. Died. Buried. Gone.

To the average fan, things must have looked bad. Our team was the underdog – no doubt about that. A ragtag bunch of penniless nobodies up against the Roman Empire and thousands of years of Jewish law. Our star player not only on the bench, but on a cross, and then in a tomb.

Jesus dead. Buried. What was it like, to be a Christian for those three days?

Could they feel then that maybe, just maybe, something big was about to happen? Something that would make them swarm the court? Rush the field? Clamber onto the goalposts?

Or was it more like seeing your opponents build an overwhelming lead, after you thought you had the game won? Thinking, boy, we could have had something big. Just long enough for the feeling to settle in your gut. We almost had it. Close, but not close enough. Not gonna happen.

Just before that moment, when you know it has happened.

Those last few seconds of the game…the puck iced, ball inbounded, quarterback kneeling, Jesus eating a piece of fish.

The clock running down: three…two…one…buzzer! Hallelujah!

Today is Good Friday – a somber day. The disciples, Jesus’ closest companions, had to watch, or at least know, while Jesus suffered, bled, died. Peter, Andrew, Matthew. Jesus’ own mother.

Difficult thoughts. Somber thoughts. We’re solemn, this time of year. I think that’s to reflect our brotherhood with the disciples – they were human, like us. Imperfect, like us. Their understanding and faith were imperfect, like ours. They doubted, like we do.

And yet, I can’t be somber. Can’t quite shake the feeling that something great is about to happen. Because I know what happened next. The buzzer beater! The Hail Mary! The snatching of victory from the jaws of defeat!

Northwestern State beating Iowa with a last-second shot; Buffalo falling behind the Oilers 35-3, and coming back to win; the Immaculate Reception; the Miracle on Ice.

Utter despair turns to blissful elation.

The disciples didn’t know. Jesus’ followers, his mother, the ragtag few who hadn’t yet come to be called Christians – they didn’t know what was about to happen.

But Jesus did – and here’s where the analogy breaks down. Jesus knew. His flawed human followers may have doubted, despaired, but there was never really any doubt.

This was no big comeback: it was a slam dunk in a kiddie pool.

Much more exciting.

Our House

My house has a door. We lock it when we leave, and when we go to bed.

In my whole life, no one has ever tried to enter my house without my (or my family’s) permission. Not that I know of, anyway.

Let’s say somebody did. Came right in, uninvited, started making a sandwich in my kitchen. Maybe did the dishes. Maybe told me he plans to stay, and he’ll pay me something for rent, help with the groceries, do some work around the house. He says he’ll generally stay out of the way.

I didn’t invite him, and don’t want him. But he’s being generally useful, and has nowhere else to go. Am I obliged to let him stay?

No. I’m not.

But we are, apparently, obliged to let people stay in our country, and to ignore the fact that they let themselves in without permission, without knocking, without even acknowledging their host.

This became obvious after spending some time walking through Madison’s anti-anti-illegal-immigration rally yesterday.

I had three basic observations: one, the pro-illegal-immigrant side doesn’t use the word “illegal.” No such thing.

Two, the protesters don’t want to acknowledge that we, the other side, understand and appreciate the difference between legal and illegal immigrants, and that we are very much in favor of the former, while very much opposed to the latter.

To them, there is no difference.

And three, they believe there should be no difference. Any immigrant, regardless of how they arrived here, should have equal status with any other immigrant, legal or illegal. And any immigrant, legal or illegal, should have all the rights and privileges of any citizen.

There should be no door. Our house should be open to all, without reservation. Our refrigerator is your refrigerator. Well, yes, I did think I’d handle the TV remote myself. It does belong to me, after all.

Silly me.

Yes, I know, we’ve spent decades ignoring our own laws. We, Americans, have helped create this problem. What are we supposed to do now? Find, arrest, and deport all 12 million illegals at once?

That would be difficult, to say the least. Not to mention bad for the economy – many of those 12 million are doing actual work at actual jobs. One can only assume that their employers need that work done.

But…I wonder how many people – legal citizens – are right now stealing office supplies, growing marijuana in the backyard, driving home after one too many drinks, looking at kiddie porn, cheating on their taxes?

How many of us will do those things this week? Twelve million? I wouldn’t be surprised.

We don’t turn a blind eye to those crimes. If we’re aware of them, we act. Today. Even if it’s twelve million people. We don’t worry about their families, their employers, the economy.

Those effects are not our fault. Not the fault of those who enforce the law, nor the fault of those who insist that the law be enforced. The person who is breaking the law – that person is at fault.

This does not apply, it seems, to those who break immigration laws.

Fine. Many illegals are working hard in this country, providing for their families, going to school, going to church. They’re exactly the kind of people we want to welcome into our country, except for that little unpleasantness about breaking that one law.

One blogger has already offered his compromise: expand immigration laws to let more people in more easily, but all the illegals have to go. I’ll go one step further: any illegal who has a job (or whose spouse or child has a job), who has no criminal record (other than that one thing, of course), and is in this country right now – not tomorrow, not next week, not six months from now, but now – can stay.

We remove the word “illegal” from everyone who meets those criteria. We “normalize” them. Offer amnesty. Plus, we expand our quotas (or whatever you call them) to let more people in.

In return, everybody – and I mean everybody – acknowledges the word “illegal.” Breaking immigration laws is the same as breaking any other law. Plus, we get strict, full-fledged, zealous enforcement of our laws and our borders from this point forward.

You might end up back in the country you came from. You might end up somewhere else. Not our problem.

That’s a better deal than I’d offer a stranger I found using my bathroom.

What Did We Vote On?

I should learn: when it comes to political predictions, I’m George Costanza. If I always go with the opposite, I’ll do a lot better.

And that’s not the only lesson I have to learn.

On Tuesday, I predicted that Baraboo’s school referendum would pass, but the anti-war referendum would fail. Wrong on both counts.

Just for the record, my gut says Governor Doyle will win in November. Take it to the bank.

It wouldn’t have bothered me – much – if the school referendum had passed. At some point, it’s worth the higher taxes just to stop the whining.

The war referendum, though – that bugs me, and it’ll keep bugging me.

Bottom line: Baraboo voted against the war. Wisconsin voted against the war. We’ve handed our troops a thumbs-down, and we’ve handed shiny new propaganda to our enemies.

Let the rationalization begin.

Jessica McBride: the statewide vote actually went against the referendums, if we leave out the reality-challenged Madison area.

The Wisconsin State Journal: “…the opinion expressed in more than 30 communities across Wisconsin is rather muddled and won't affect much of anything.” h

John McAdams: the anti-war vote is shrinking, if you compare Tuesday’s vote to the votes for anti-war John Kerry in 2004. Or maybe not.

And, of course, the referendum didn’t have any practical meaning. It was advisory only.

Details. Wednesday’s state and national headlines didn’t talk about a “muddled outcome.” They said Wisconsin voted against the war. That’s the message the nation saw. That’s the message our troops saw. That’s the message our enemies saw.

If any good comes of this, I hope it’s to teach the Bush Administration (indeed, all of us): don’t let the moonbats control the debate. The Bush Lied! People Died! slogans have gone unchallenged for far too long.

That’s how the referendum debate was framed: Bush Lied! and Cut and Run! vs. Support the Troops! and Stay the Course!

But that’s not what we voted on. The referendums were, often enough, much more vague.

Most of them called for the US to “begin an immediate withdrawal” of troops from Iraq. Most, but not all.

Baraboo’s said: “Shall the United States begin an immediate, phased withdrawal of its troops from Iraq?”

Phased. Whatever that means.

Six other small communities asked for an “immediate timed withdrawal of military personnel from Iraq beginning the with National Guard."

And the Town of Newport’s asked if voters favor “the United States handing full operational command over Iraqi national security to the Iraqi government before the end of 2006.”

Do I? Hell yes. I’d love it.

I made this point once before – these referendums are vague enough that even a fervent war supporter might vote yes.

…the question doesn’t commit me to anything. Sure, “immediate” is a pretty plain word, but “phased?” What if I favor an immediate Phase 1, and then a year before Phase 2? Another year for Phase 3?

It’s weaselly, waffley, indefinite. It leaves an escape hatch, if events turn against a withdrawal.

Hey, did Russ Feingold write this question?

I didn’t make a big deal of it, though, because I didn’t think it mattered. Terrorists, insurgents, enemies of democracy in Iraq, radical jihadists who think their path to heaven runs through American blood: they don’t care about the wording. They only care that their strategy is paying off.

Maybe that was a mistake: you don’t have to be a long-haired tree-hugging dope-smoking beatnik to want the troops home – we all want that, and as soon as possible.

I allowed – even helped – the debate to frame around the war effort and the troops. Didn’t address the specific language. Never questioned it.

Even a supporter of the war might see that word, “phased,” and think, well, yes. We’ve already started handing power over to the Iraqis. We’re already slowly phasing troops off the front lines. And if things turn sour, well, we can stop the drawdown. It’s phased, after all. I can vote yes.

I wonder what the results would have been, had Baraboo’s referendum called for “immediate withdrawal,” or “troops home now.” If I had called them out on their vagueness. Demanded strong wording, or none at all.

Plenty of communities passed the referendum with much stronger language, so maybe not much different. But maybe different, too. No way to tell.

Bottom line, I lost. We lost. Our nation’s credibility lost. No amount of rationalization will change that.

But I’ll put this down as a lesson learned.

We Get to Vote

Time to vote!

On the ballot here in Baraboo: two referendums. An anti-war, “bring the troops home” referendum; and a 5-year, $7.5 million school spending referendum.

By the time you read this, I’ll have already voted. It’s likely the votes will have been counted, and that we will already know how things turned out.

Here’s my prediction, which I’m likely to regret making: the school referendum passes, the war referendum fails. Neither will achieve 60% of the vote.

I’d rather they both fail, but if I could bargain on the outcome, that’s what I’d choose. I’ll trade a “yes” on higher school taxes for “no” on abandoning Iraq.

I’ve got a couple of reasons for that. First, the schools are only asking for money. Sure, I think the district has handled this all very badly. I don’t think they’ve made the case for more money. And I still want to know why it costs so much in the first place.

But in the end, it is only money.

The anti-war referendum has, I think, real and serious ramifications for the right-now safety of our troops, and the long-term security of our troops, our people, and our country.

Irony note: Iraqis have been though two of their own elections, post-Saddam. They might, in the future, find themselves voting on referendums – both binding and advisory – because they’ve got themselves a democracy now.

If the anti-war Bush Lied! crowd had their way, Saddam’s totalitarian terrocracy would still be in power. Average Iraqis would have neither the chance nor the prospect of exercising the very right that Barabooians are exercising today by voting on whether or not to pull out the American soldiers who both created that chance for Iraqis and continue to keep it alive.

By exercising our right to vote, we could conceivably cause the Iraqis to lose theirs.

My second reason for preferring the school referendum: the war referendum is only advisory, and I mean that in the most negligible sense of the term. It has no legal authority whatsoever. The school referendum is binding – if Baraboo votes yes, we will pay more, and the school district will spend more.

That sounds backward. I should be less worried about the advisory referendum and more worried about the binding referendum, since the binding referendum is…well…binding.

But…what’s the alternative to the school referendum?

Oh, sure, I’d rather the district would commit to cost-of-living increases, the way actual people and businesses do. I wish every government office would

But they won’t. The natural tendency for government is to grow. It’s like a force of nature. A fact of life. Government never has enough, no matter how much they have, and we’re always right on the brink of crisis because of it.

That being the case, I want referendums. Referendums are a check on government power. They can’t just do what they want: sometimes, they have to ask us, and they have to live with our answer.

Since I prefer referendums – the same way I prefer elected governments over monarchies and thugocracies – I have to accept that sometimes I’m going to lose.

The important thing is: we get to vote.

That’s what we do: we vote, somebody wins, somebody loses, and then we move on. I wasn’t happy that Baraboo voted for John Kerry, but I got up the next morning and went on with my life.

Likewise, the Barabooians who voted for Kerry weren’t happy that Bush won (bumper sticker: “First Bush was misunderestimated; now he’s unredefeated”). But they got up Wednesday morning and went about their lives. Most of them, anyway.

If the school referendum passes, I’ll think it was a manipulative mistake. But I’ll accept it.

The voters will have spoken, and I’m glad simply that the voters had a chance to speak. That the school district had to ask our permission. That a bunch of government-paid bureaucrats can’t simply decide they need 10% more, and then take that 10% more.

I oppose the school referendum. I’ve spoken against it, written against it, put a sign in my yard.

But I’d rather live with having voted and lost on a spending referendum, than live with the idea that my home town gave a thumbs-down to our troops and their mission, and gave a boost to the killers who target our own troops.

And, at least, I’ll have had my chance to stop it. I wouldn’t have it any other way, even though it means I could lose.