Not what you’re thinking.
When I read this morning that Dianne Feinstein had died, I thought, “Oh, no!” Then, “Oh, gee!” Then, “Let’s look at what could happen!”
Gavin Newsom will select the next senator for Feinstein’s seat. Despite the New York Times’ lede take on this — “the choice could be complicated for California’s governor, Gavin Newsom,” the only “complicated” aspect of this situation is the same “complicated” aspect for every Democrat all the time: the Party has so many fucking good members.
My observation of the so-called division in this country is when I do that old high school essay requirement that I compare and contrast, say, the California Democratic contingent with, I dunno, Kevin McCarthy, Jim Jordan. Matt Gaetz. Paul Gosar. And somebody’s god should help us Marjorie Taylor Greene.
Every day or so, I watch and hear a Democratic representative not well known to me knock my socks off with his or her intelligence, articulation, values, experience, knowledge about government, wit. One after the other. Bam! Bam! Bam!
I have mental romances with a whole bunch of ’em, so many I’m not going to name them lest I forget a couple and feel awful.
Newsom just clarified his promise of last year to select a Black woman for Feinstein’s seat, if the time came to do it, by saying he could not wade into the California senatorial campaign entered by three excellent congresspeople, any one of whom would make a superlative senator and one of whom is a Black woman. (I’m SO glad I’m not a Californian; I would drive myself crazy over my vote.)
I don’t have any idea what the Democratic Party should do about having so many fine public servants.
It’s a bitch.