The Supreme Court: Operationalized

June 24, 2022 by J. Nelson

“Follow the money” applies to everything, most of all to Supreme Court Justices.

CAR GUY 101: knowing the parts in the machine –any machine– is essential to comprehending how it can be affected by the elements.

I just took in this excellent piece by the award-winning publisher of “The Hightower Lowdown,” Jim Hightower. The guy is funny, and I wish I could say it made me laugh. It didn’t. But it did offer me insight that went beyond what I already knew about SCOTUS, and it reminds me to take less pleasure in the disintegration of norms and barometers (which laughs tend to abet).

The notorious “Powell Memo” (a.k.a. “Attack on the American Free Enterprise System”) was drafted in 1971 by Lewis F. Powell, Jr., and it’s a good example of something about which I knew previously zilch. Yet from it, Hightower notes, SCOTUS’ current conservative majority has drawn, uh, major inspiration.

In keeping with the period, corporate attorney Powell was not unlike Robert Duvall’s Godfather character, Tom Hagen, head lawyer for the Corleone family. As a Phillip Morris board member, Powell’s own “family” was Big Tobacco. In fact he represented the Tobacco Institute, the notorious research arm of the tobacco industry. This is important background info.

Powell’s so-called “memorandum” was a confidential letter to the Chairman of the Education Committee at the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. In it, he discussed what he termed the “Neglected Opportunity in the Courts” and proposed that corporate cash could and should lead to more corporate-friendly rulings by SCOTUS.

The heading itself is scary enough, given how little room it leaves for misinterpretation, but the memo actively urges “weaponiz[ing] the courts to serve business interests.” Powell wanted to use the courts as a tool to save capitalism. By rewarding Powell with a Supreme Court nomination just two months after writing his memo, Richard Nixon showed he was a man who also knew how to use a tool.

And so began the “operationalization” of the Court that brings us to the present day. From the 12+ year old Citizens United v. FEC ruling that allows unlimited corporate funding of campaigns and elections to Burwell v. Hobby Lobby, in which corporations were portrayed as rights bearers for “the humans who own and control [them]” and beyond, Powell’s dream of a pro-business court was coming true even in opinions by presumably “liberal” justices (though hardly to the same extent as those on the other side of the political aisle).

So now, with a super solid and uber conservative majority, why limit judicial activism to just pro-business decisions? As they lingered over the wording of their destruction of a woman’s right to privacy around her so-called private parts, SCOTUS made it virtually impossible for inmates to win release as a result of ineffective lawyering (see Shinn v. Ramirez), it effectively removed all prohibitions against the use of excessive force by federal law enforcement in violation of the 4th Amendment (see Egbert v. Boule), and with Carson v. Makin it achieved a trifecta of rulings that support the union of religious schools and federal money.

Did I mention that all of the above came down during June alone?

Now that Roe is dead, it’s easy to envision many people feeling both empowered and powerless. I fear modern day adherents to the Powell doctrine. I fear we’ll use our rapidly changing nation as a continued excuse to take our anxieties out on each other. If any part of you agrees that Americans are being pushed into an every-man-for-himself/herself society, then no moving part is more critical than your informed vote.

Do not give into despair.
Find out where your excuses go to die.
Learn the machine.
Arm yourself with yourself.

STORMTRUMPERS

November 1, 2020 by J. Nelson

Truck Dicks are old news that’s been kicked upstairs.
As of this week, they’re no less than Shock Troops.

The armed Texas Trump Train that reportedly outnumbered police 50-1 while surrounding a Biden campaign bus on a Texas highway has received their leader’s eager endorsement. Drivers of giant pick-ups, particularly those with confrontational or tantrum-like adornments, will now be lumped in with political vultures who have essentially become a Storm Division.

The galloping neuroses of men in monster trucks has never been more conspicuous or weaponized.

Already at ease with their cartoonish potency, Truck Dicks have achieved hero status of the “stand back and stand by” variety. Also, they’re probably relieved to have found purpose for their Ford Platinum Super Duty F-350 MSRP of $87,110. What third wife is gonna nag her celtic-tattooed mid-lifer about that monthly $967 insurance/car payment combo while they’re leading the most American parade since the Lafayette Welcoming of 1824?

Yup. Trump’s magic wand again, the meatball stick waved over empty heads. POOF! Knighthood!

Oh, I don’t mean every mega-truck owner is susceptible, but aren’t the cop groupies who yammer on about law enforcement (as though it were a life form) the easiest of Trump’s recruits? You know, the Dave & Buster’s dadbods whose rigs are too clean to be hauling America-building payloads like in the commercials?

I’m talking about the aging flat brimmers who mansplain about the bells ‘n whistles of doom survival. They swear that 700 pounds per foot of rear-wheel torque and a 40-gallon diesel gas tank are the only things standing between their families and any number of possible human extinction scenarios. Yeah, those 5’5″ fuckers whose flip flops dangle out the door when they fence-hop themselves into the cab.

Not so much guys with the shipyard cred: I mean the haters with the Heineken spread.

It’s almost as if Truck Dicks blossomed at the discovery that they’ve been driving Somali Technicals to Lowes and the bullet store. Their 18-guage steel tiger-cobra-rhino-dominators are now platforms for select historical celebrations, looter hunting, and ideological policing of all sorts. It doesn’t help with their child support payments, but hey, “blood purge.” USA! USA! USA!

If it weren’t for Donald Trump, some of these men might be relegated to the usual parking lot small-penis appraisals. But after ganging up on and endangering the passengers of an election campaign bus, who knows? There may be an Executive Order in their future, one mandating that “Intimidation Performance” be considered in the assessment of full-size pick-up resale value.

Here is our Where Excuses Go to Die screen-grab tribute to the men, trucks, and flags of MAGA enforcement.

Now That He Has “Shut up…”

October 2, 2020 by J. Nelson

Be careful what you wish for can be interpreted in many ways.

I’m inclined to resist “I hope he dies!” and “It’s about time!”

But my not seeking solace in vindictiveness and Schadenfreude has nothing to do with being a good example. That’s Michelle Obama’s “When they go low, we go high,” thing.

I’m thinking more like, “be careful what you wish for.” And not just because Vice President Handmaid’s Tale could take Trump’s place.

No, the facepalm I’m afraid of is right outta the 2020 Twilight Zone: What if we get a POTUS turnaround “like the world has never seen”?

What if the guy comes back from a nutty near-death experience and suddenly stops being a walking obstruction of justice? What if the oaf wakes up and fires Bill Barr, pays his back taxes, resolves Trump family business conflicts, and outlaws private prisons? What if – POOF! he renews the Spanish translation option at WhiteHouse.gov, starts singing Hallelujah while abolishing ICE, counts America’s immigrants among its most valuable assets, drops Amy Coney Barrett for her non-disclosure issues, and has the Proud Boys slapped with the RICO Act? What if he renames the Green New Deal “TRUMP’S Green New Deal,” then Executive Orders it right into existence? After America picks itself up off the floor, will it let the name change pass? I would.

The thought of what would be required of us if Trump somehow got a clue is the scary part. Are we too self-admiring? Would we come together and pull it off?

I know…this is silly fantasy, and “crazier things have happened” doesn’t apply because nothing crazier ever could or has.

But this guy catching COVID indeed makes him eligible for hitting a bottom, and that’s a far more imaginable and down to earth way to phrase it.

Trump has, as Biden now famously asked, “…just shut up, man.”

Be careful what you wish for are powerful words…

10/8/2020 Follow up:

The Little Boomerang That Could

September 22, 2020 by J. Nelson

People take misinformation seriously.

A friend’s intellectually disabled son was recently caught gargling with liquid dish soap as mouthwash. “I’m trying to fight the Coronavirus,” the young man told his supervisor.

She reached for the bathroom door frame when she heard his answer.

Going without a mask for portions of the day had been approved, since he interacts only with her. Apparently he was trying to “make up” for the security that covering his face had provided.

Coworkers ran through her mind. Had any of them made jokes that might have been overheard? Would any be so monstrous as to tell the young man to do this? Those answers would have to wait.

Informing his father would be a grueling experience.

“Riley,” diagnosed with cerebral palsy as a child, is affected by accompanying health issues which, unlike CP itself, are progressive. His dad is a single father who manages care and medical treatment for both his son and his elderly mother. Despite these and other challenges, my friend’s dedication and focus are almost insect-like. He exists for his family, for the next day, the next bill, the next appointment.

Fortunately, by all accounts, Riley is an easygoing employee. He may not be a workplace dynamo, but cheerfully doing what he can with what he’s been given is definitely his thing. Riley’s most unfavorable report involved his devouring a coworker’s tortellini from the lunchroom fridge. I enjoy imagining he did that as payback for being called “slow.”

Because Riley can be defiant, sure. Who isn’t? And despite supervision being a mainstay of his life, he isn’t without sense. His father’s surprise is warranted. His confusion, disappointment, and fear are immediate and tangible, whereas his anger and what to do with it will either have to wait or simply be let go.

I would find that difficult to do, myself. And this is as close as I’ve come to witnessing the boomeranging consequences of the laughable, dangerous, proposals being floated as solutions to the pandemic. I’m unsure of what to do with this other than scream it from the rooftops.

The good news is that Riley is okay. He has been gently counseled. He goes a little less solo these days, but Riley is no different than the rest of us facing the domineering sway of misinformation and the vulnerabilities it exploits.

Being thankful that Riley only used dish soap creates a lot of what ifs.

“My Fellow Convict Americans”

August 26, 2020 by J. Nelson

Hi, I’m a convicted American.

As a convicted American, I know what it’s like to be formally and publicly disqualified from society –– to accept the consequesnces and their impact.

I know what it’s like to slam a book shut with the realization of what it means to lose the right to vote.

Human dignity isn’t something a sentencing judge extracts from a defendant in the courtroom, and its surrender isn’t part of any plea bargain. The loss of dignity occurs informally, away from the public, in places where cruelty, rage, and fear are picked from one’s eye like dust.

As a convicted American, I know what it is to witness a man’s dignity being taken from him. In describing one of the pillars of prison life, I often say it’s not so much the savagery you witness as the savagery you’re forced to silently bury.

I’ll never be free of those memories: they will always return to haunt me — and also to recharge my values.

I know the feeling of begging a Corrections Officer (or worse, a prison guard) for toilet paper and soap. No lubricating eye-contact, my lips squished into a gap between steel and concrete. I remember smiling a survivor’s smile, too, at the freedom from having to swallow my pride, the first punch line of prison life.

And I remember official documentation. For every little thing, one needs papers, signature proof, double verification, a case file, a blue copy, a white copy, a canary yellow copy, and so on. Life behind bars is like living inside a Department of Motor Vehicles office located in a parking structure.

But here’s what else I know:

As a convicted American, I know the life-affirming relief of chatting about fighter jets or lighting or even God with the man locking you in for the night.

And I know what it feels like to have my voting rights restored.

“I’ve paid my debt to society” sounds like a cliché from the movies until you’re the one saying it. And when you’re no longer nibbling at meals through an annual split lip, goddamn it feels good to say.

Last night, I watched Trump pardon Jon Ponder. Ponder stood in humility as the entirety of the government’s power was summoned to declare him re-fit for anything American, even elected office or a shotgun collection.
Staged as the ceremony may have been, I wondered if Ponder was thinking, “Just keep being nice to the man. It’s just like back on the row. You know this drill. You want your issue, right? Keep it cool. Get that paper. Play along. Hi, nice lady.”

I certainly would have been, ’cause as a convicted American, I know a lot about dangled carrots, false hopes, and the journey of becoming my own man with my own principles based on hard won lessons. I know what it feels like to slam a book shut with the realization that dignity and self direction have gradually been inching back.

This morning, there are probably equal numbers of Trump campaign strategists patting themselves on the back for proposing the Ponder presidential pardon as there are critics questioning its timing, politics, the RNC, or that Ponder pled guilty and has no right to a pardon.

None of that matters when you’re holding the bearer bond, and Jon Ponder just walked away with one.

And as a convicted American, he knows the value of official documentation.

Good for you Jon, my friend in restored dignity.

Take a minute to check out Jon Ponder’s Hope for Prisoners –– building and strengthening skills “necessary for employment readiness, leadership development and success throughout the reintegration process.”

What, CCPOA, no opposition?

October 15, 2014 by J. Nelson

California prison guard union’s silence on Prop 47 smells funky…

In 2011, the CCPOA claimed it had “played a decisive role” in electing Governor Jerry Brown after dropping $2 million on his campaign alone. The characteristic boast came in the form of a video called “The Winners,” griped about at the time by Los Angeles Times columnist Steve Lopez.

That year, the union endorsed candidates it favored to the tune of $7 million and received plenty in exchange. Of 107 candidates it backed in California, 104 were elected.

It’s no secret that the CCPOA is one of the most influential unions in American history: it’s been building that power in earnest since the ‘80s, when CCPOA-sponsored legislation began to be successful about 80% of the time. Not surprisingly, this period includes some of California’s most intractable laws, such as 1984’s infamous Three Strikes legislation. “The formula is simple,” writes Joan Petersilia in Volume 37 of Crime and Justice: A Review of Research. “More prisoners lead to more prisons; more prisons require more guards; more guards means more dues-paying members and fund-raising capability; and fund-raising, of course, translates into political influence.” Naturally, the CCPOA has a vested interest in keeping incarceration and recidivism rates high. Read more

Ever George Washington Bridge Someone?

January 12, 2014 by J. Nelson

Have YOU ever deliberately “inconvenienced” co-workers or enemies?

A mayor declined to endorse his state’s governor during an election, so the governor’s top aides ordered a shutdown of lanes on a heavily used bridge. Delivery, maintenance, and fire trucks, as well as school buses, ambulances, and commuters, were mired in gridlock for days, causing outrage, scandal, and backlash. The perpetrators, who joked about the resulting chaos in emails, have since been found out. Check your local internet.

So what are your excuses for inconveniencing adversaries on purpose?

Oh, come on. Payback? You’ve never done that? No, I don’t mean shut down a bridge – I mean, impeded someone intentionally. Haven’t you ever waited to send your print job to the office copier until right when a co-worker needs it to prep for a meeting? Ever put off booking your boss’s flight ’til only middle seats at the back of the plane were available? How about crankin’ the thermostat? If any of this sounds familiar, you’ve George Washington Bridged someone. (Now let’s abbreviate that down to “you’ve GWB’d some fool,” or “you pulled a GWB.”) Read more

Why Go Easy on Junkies?

August 13, 2013 by J. Nelson

Reforming mandatory minimum sentences for low-level drug offenders.

Q: What’s in it for you?

Q: Why should you care?

Q: Nonviolent criminals are still criminals, so why go easy on junkies?

A: Mandatory minimum sentencing reform for nonviolent drug offenders is not “going easy on junkies.”

In fact, nobody’s going easy on the junkies, especially junkies themselves. Addiction is a prison in its own right, and when our laws dictate that we actually imprison as many as we can for as long as we can, we perpetuate a cycle of inmates returning to their communities as maladapted as when they were prosecuted.

Still, does helping to change the life of an imprisoned drug addict sound wrong to you? Then think of it this way: Why should taxpayers like you and me spend upwards of $50,000 a year to simply house an addict? We’re not actually helping them become productive citizens, after all; a recent LA Times editorial on California’s incarceration woes reminds us that “prisons have been notoriously ineffective at purging inmates of their addictions, illnesses, gang ties or antisocial attitudes.”

Besides, junkies usually commit crimes the way lab rats run in circles or jump through hoops – because they’ve either been stimulated or manipulated into doing so. On the other hand, lawbreakers like me – convicted and sentenced to prison for robbery – are deliberate. We have getaway cars and backup plans. I’ve never seen a junkie or a lab rat with an escape route. Read more

Nobody Votes in L.A.

March 8, 2013 by J. Nelson 4 Comments

There are many excuses not to vote. These are mine.

The City of Los Angeles saw absurdly low voter turnout on Tuesday — they say it was somewhere in the neighborhood of 16%-to-20% of those registered. It’s the same sad song we always hear, but about which I’m finally free to ask: If the Mayans were wrong with their obnoxious predictions, how are we to trust iffy polls that tell us we’re doomed if we don’t vote? Aren’t we all still walking around, microwaving the earth the Mayans left us?

In addition to that (perfectly reasonable) rationalization, here are some of the excuses that went through my head on voting day:

You have to be some kind of ballot language specialist to understand the propositions, which are written so that only people living in Opposite World will get what voting ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ means. That’s just cruel.
I don’t know what a city controller does.
My friends don’t want to go.
When asked, “Shall the City of Los Angeles enact a one-half cent transactions and use (generally referred to as sales) tax, with required independent audits, public review of expenditures, and all funds used locally,” I need to pull out my trusty ????? guide in order to answer. I’ll be right back never.
Law and Order already started. They’re just going to raise taxes anyway.
Polling places remind me of things I don’t want to touch, like decomposing, school district wood and volunteers.
I already took my shoes off; you know the rule.
Standing in line for a ballot’s like being at the DMV, ‘cept the people behind the counter are smarter than you are, and they know you last read a book when Bush was still president.
Never mind the sticker, shouldn’t we be issued some sort of code when we vote, so when we encounter grocery store petition weirdos we can pronounce it and walk off guilt free, like one of the good people? Do that and I’ll vote in every election.
I can’t break away from what I’m doing just ’cause it’s time to vote. Voting needs to be rolled into my other errands, so I can manufacture the illusion of profit and check something off my to-do list.
There was an election this week, and there’s another one in two months. See what I’m saying? This is impossible.
All I’ve heard is that both frontrunners have funded Muslim kitten burning operations and that they’d sell their souls to the devil if they knew the devil could be litigated against. It’ll take a candidate who deserves my vote for me to just all of a sudden –snap!– log out of Call of Duty.
Psh!

And yet…I did log out, put my shoes back on, and turn away from the Law and Order rerun. I found out what a city controller does. I took a very nice evening stroll with a good friend up to the neighborhood elementary school, where we found more volunteers than voters. “Been like this all day,” one told us. But we figured, at least we’re not talkers. See, we love Los Angeles, warts ‘n all. Not the champagne and spray-tan bullshit, I mean the people and places.

L.A. natives often hear how much we have in common with hard-bitten New Yorkers and I dig that. I relate to the cynicism, but also to the abundant civic pride. And really, how different is this from folks in the heartland who love their hometowns too? I fight my excuses because voting means it’s time for me give something to my city, ’cause my city is better than the people running it.

Bad Winners, Bad Losers: There’s No Excuse for Either

November 9, 2012 by J. Nelson

I admit it crossed my mind to worry over what we might do with America’s sudden realization that white dominance is no longer the rule in our “united” states. I got a little nervous that some bad winners might try to remind the wrong people that they were just given a wake-up call (’cause they were).

**And who are the wrong people?** Let me put it this way: most of the time it’s not gonna be your colleague or neighbor who leans in another political direction or who happens to be white. If you’re not pointing your finger directly at a pundit, podium, or politician, you’re just surfing an excuse.

Category: Election Politics