Note: If you wish to receive, via e-mail, (1) my weekly newsletter or (2) daily copies of these posts, write to me at [email protected]. Comments may also be sent to this address. I promise not to share your e-mail with anyone. To unsubscribe, write here as well.
Wednesday
Although I know there are many Democrats who believe that Joe Biden should step down and let someone else (there’s disagreement as to whom) take his place, I remain convinced that staying with him is the Democrats’ best chance to retain the presidency. Some of my belief comes from Chris Bouzy, election analyst and founder of the Twitter-alternative Spoutible, who time and again has demonstrated remarkable predictive powers. Bouzy thinks the Democrats will win convincingly—the presidency and both chambers of Congress—if Biden stays and that they will lose the presidency and Senate both if he steps aside.
Bouzy, of course, is not omniscient and could be wrong so I’m not dismissing the fears of Biden doubters. But I take a different tack in today’s post and share a thought that is allowing me to sleep a little easier. It’s based on a James Stephens poem that came to mind as I was strolling on a South Carolina beach with my five-year-old grandson Ocean. Ocean has become obsessed with collecting shells:
The Shell
By James Stephens
AND then I pressed the shell
Close to my ear
And listened well,
And straightway like a bell
Came low and clear
The slow, sad murmur of the distant seas,
Whipped by an icy breeze
Upon a shore
Wind-swept and desolate.
It was a sunless strand that never bore
The footprint of a man,
Nor felt the weight
Since time began
Of any human quality or stir
Save what the dreary winds and waves incur.
And in the hush of waters was the sound
Of pebbles rolling round,
Forever rolling with a hollow sound.
And bubbling sea-weeds as the waters go
Swish to and fro
Their long, cold tentacles of slimy grey.
There was no day,
Nor ever came a night
Setting the stars alight
To wonder at the moon:
Was twilight only and long, cold tentacles of slimy grey.
And waves that journeyed blind—
And then I loosed my ear … O, it was sweet
To hear a cart go jolting down the street.
“A shore wind-swept and desolate,” “long, cold tentacles of slimy grey,” “waves that journeyed blind”—those are all images that would apply to a second Trump presidency.
I can also imagine enough voters thinking the same way. Uncle Joe is our comfortable cart. He may not arouse intense passions—he doesn’t conjure up what the Romantics called “the dark sublime”—but he’s familiar and safe. For all Trump’s effort to tar him with “Biden Crime Family” and other projected accusations, Biden simply jolts along. It’s how he routed his Democratic opponents in the 2020 primaries, how he beat an incumbent president later that year, and how he could well be reelected this year.
Americans may grumble a lot. But when their lives are going fairly comfortably—as they are—they are not prone to vote in disruptive change. Trump foes and Trump fans alike see him as a chaos agent, and more Americans than not are averse to chaos. This will become clearer as the election nears.
To be sure, Biden may indeed choose, or be pressured, to step down. But so far, Joltin’ Joe has not yet left and gone away.