an ugly era
of ugly choices that is …
all I am saying

Adapted from the New York Times Joint Opinion piece, Graham Platner Is a Rorschach Test, by Frank Bruni and Bret Stephens where Mr. Bruni writes:

… an election is a binary, and, yes, Bret, I would choose him over Collins, who voted to confirm Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Tulsi Gabbard and Russell Vought and whose vaunted moderation doesn’t match her fear of President Trump’s supporters.

You think that the guardrails are mostly containing Trump, and I think that he’s showing us how fragile they are and what peril we’re in. To believe as I do is to root for the candidate less likely to rubber-stamp his agenda. It’s that simple.

I don’t think we have the luxury of such big-picture, long-term philosophizing. Democratically speaking, it’s do-or-die time, and it’s essential that Trump not have a Congress under Republican control for the final two years of his current term. Sure, Democrats are favored as of now to win the House, but they might not: Look at all the gerrymandering still going on. So they must do everything possible to win the Senate. The Republican Party — to which Collins belongs, no matter her discrete and admirable rebellions — has shown that it cannot be trusted to stand up to Trump. So my relentlessly practical, far-from-jubilant take is that Platner is the better choice.

When I say I’d vote for him, Bret, that’s not “giving him a pass.” That phrase — that concept — doesn’t really apply. This is an ugly era of ugly choices. I’m saying that I’m less scared of Platner than of a Congress under Trump’s thumb. That’s really all I’m saying. But if we’re going to talk passes, it’s Trump I refuse to give one.

The Scotty Who Knew Too Much

Several summers ago there was a Scotty who went to the country for a visit. He decided that all the farm dogs were cowards, because they were afraid of a certain animal that had a white stripe down its back. “You are a pussy-cat and I can lick you,” the Scotty said to the farm dog who lived in the house where the Scotty was visiting. “I can lick the little animal with the white stripe, too. Show him to me.” “Don’t you want to ask any questions about him?” said the farm dog. “Naw,” said the Scotty. “You ask the questions.”

So the farm dog took the Scotty into the woods and showed him the white-striped animal and the Scotty closed in on him, growling and slashing. It was all over in a moment and the Scotty lay on his back. When he came to, the farm dog said, “What happened?” “He threw vitriol,” said the Scotty, “but he never laid a glove on me.”

A few days later the farm dog told the Scotty there was another animal all the farm dogs were afraid of. “Lead me to him,” said the Scotty. “I can lick anything that doesn’t wear horseshoes.” “Don’t you want to ask any questions about him?” said the farm dog. “Naw,” said the Scotty. “Just show me where he hangs out.” So the farm dog led him to a place in the woods and pointed out the little animal when he came along. “A clown,” said the Scotty, “a pushover,” and he closed in, leading with his left and exhibiting some mighty fancy footwork. In less than a second the Scotty was flat on his back, and when he woke up the farm dog was pulling quills out of him. “What happened?” said the farm dog. “He pulled a knife on me,” said the Scotty, “but at least I have learned how you fight out here in the country, and now I am going to beat you up.” So he closed in on the farm dog, holding his nose with one front paw to ward off the vitriol and covering his eyes with the other front paw to keep out the knives. The Scotty couldn’t see his opponent and he couldn’t smell his opponent and he was so badly beaten that he had to be taken back to the city and put in a nursing home.

Moral: It is better to ask some of the questions than to know all the answers.

By James Thurber in Fables for For Our Time as published in The Thurber Carnival (Modern Library Edition, 1957).