World Car Free Day.  I never pledged not to drive my car, unlike most of my brethren on the CART Board.  Yet I did briefly contemplate working at home all day, and in the morning I happily padded around the house in my bathrobe and slippers.  After a while I grew restless, so I got dressed and hopped into my aging Camry with its four-cylinder internal combustion engine.  On the drive to the office around one o'clock in a light rain, the lines of traffic were as huge and as hideous as anything that I had ever seen.

My 82-year-old mother called me from Paducah today.  She had just received a Judy Collins CD and a copy of Jim Derych's book Confessions of a Former Ditto-Head that I Amazon-ed to her.  During a recent visit she had casually mentioned that she'd like to have Judy Collin's greatest hits.  She also not-so-casually mentioned politics; I sensed that the angst amongst conservative Republicans is slowly being elevated to a near-fever pitch.  As such, while I was in the middle of point-click-buy,  I decided to toss in Jim's book, which is based on his Kos Blogs (see earlier posts).  "I got the book and the CD today, " my mother said tersely, "and I'm making some notes to talk to you about.  There's a lot going on that you don't understand." "You're welcome, ma," I countered, "and what is it that I don't understand? The drivel that you listen to on Fox and Rush?"  "Well, what are your news sources?" she wanted to know.  "Ma, we have this same conversation every time that we talk politics.  I don't watch TV.  I read the NY Times, Reuters, the CJ, CBC, BBC, The Berliner Morgenpost, and occasionally La Presse."  She changed the subject.  "I suppose that you've been out campaigning," and there was a surprising amount of derision in her voice.  "A little," I said, "but not as much as I want to.  By the way, when you read the book, it's best not to try and listen to Rush at the same time." "Hrmph," was all she said.  The political debate between my Republican mother and her Democrat son, heretofore always spirited but always deferential, is becoming acrimonious.

Thursday, September 14, 2006.

Watching Barak Obama one cannot help but think that the man will be President of the United States someday, and that that will be a good thing.  He has enormous talent and charisma, and there can be no doubt that he is the fastest rising star in American politics today.  Indeed, as I write this a few days after seeing him speak at Slugger Field in Louisville, there is already talk of an Obama bid in '08, even though he is still just a junior senator.  I'd love to see him on a ticket with Al Gore...

It was worth going to the Dem rally just to hear Obama speak, but attendance at the free event still came at a price.  What should have been a 90-minute rally was stretched into an excruciating three-hour extravaganza, complete with a momentum-killing intermission. Jerry Lundergren's Steve Balmer-style screechy speech was mildly amusing, but all things considered we Democrats still have a lot to learn about how to throw a party.

Thursday, September 7, 2006.

JY fundraiser at Virginia Woodward's house.  All the Young Dems were there.  Well, not all of them.  Several, actually, were conspicuous by their absence without an excuse.  But the turnout was pretty good, considering that Young Dems have no money (much like their older counterparts).  Left a bit early to go hear Yitzhak Perlman at the Kentucky Center.  Poor old guy can barely walk, but the sound of his violin is still like the voice of heaven.

Friday, September 1, 2006.

Thursday, August 31, 2006.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006.

Distributing 8664 yard signs is a pain in the butt.  Not because they're 8664 yard signs; I believe in the cause fervently, or I wouldn't volunteer for such pain-in-the-butt duty as yard sign distribution.  Try it sometime, dear reader, and you'll see what I mean.  It's tedious.  It's frustrating.  And it's very, very time consuming.  And 8664 supporters, it seems, have a maddening propensity for living in obscure alleys, the very ends of dead-end streets, or the invisible corners of hard-to-find cul-de-sacs.  Oh, well.  At least they're on our side.

I finished my biennial flight instructor refresher course today.  Flight instructors have to renew their certificates every two years by taking some kind of recurrent training, which these days can be done on the net.  It's not a big deal, although it takes about ten hours to complete.  I've done it for years, but now the course includes a TSA-mandated section about vigilance and terrorism prevention.  The literature was replete with pictures of the World Trade Center on 9/11 and small airplanes that had been run into buildings by lunatics.  The course reminded me that I must now seek permission from TSA before giving flight instruction to anyone who is not a U.S. citizen - a group that includes my wife, many of my friends, and a fairly large part of my extended family. The whole thing was bloody depressing.

Saturday, August 26, 2006.

Stumping for JY in the south end.  Canvassing a neighborhood, I've found, is a bit like scuba diving without a mask.  It's difficult to keep your eyes open, but if you manage to do that, what you see will fascinate you, and the whole process will be a transformative experience.   

Wednesday, August 22, 2006.

The Jimmy Empire Strikes Back.  Complimentary message from David Hawpe afterward.  I wrote back and told him that I look forward to a friendly rivalry.  Special thanks to a special friend for helping to make that happen by keeping a proper governor on my engine.  We're building a pretty nice race car :-)

Monday, August 21, 2006.

Friday, August 18, 2006.

Friday afternoon beer and BS session with my 8664 buddies Tyler Allen and J.C. Stites.  "Do we have a MySpace account?" J.C. asked at one point.  "I've got one but I hate it," I said derisively.  "I did it for my campaign but got nowhere with it.  MySpace really is just for teenage kids to horse around with.  And their profiles are all junky with crazy colors and hard-to-read fonts and all kinds of crap..." "Gee, Jimmy," Tyler interrupted me, "that's the first time that I've ever heard you sound old."

Thursday, August 17, 2006.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006.

"You sent the wrong message with your August 7th post," a friend chided me.  She was referring to my comments about how lucky I felt to be sitting in Wellfleet on Cape Cod, happily eating oysters.  I compared my life to those who live in places like Beirut or Baghdad or Bangladesh.  She probably had a point, because the whole vision of Wellfleet is that of a life of privilege.  That's too bad, because what I meant to convey was that I was happy to be sitting in Wellfleet, eating oysters, sharing good times with good friends, and not having to worry about being shot at, car-bombed, or mud-slid into oblivion.   We could've been just as happy eating our oysters in Gary Indiana.  Well, almost as happy.

This same friend once related to me with chagrin about how most of her friends react when she tells them of her travels to "Third World" countries.  She's been to lots of places like Guatemala, where people live simply, but happily and peacefully. "Oh," her friends will tell her, "those kinds of experiences must make you really appreciate what we have here." My friend and I both grow a little sad when we hear comments like that, because it demonstrates to us just how out of touch we in our "First World" society are becoming.  Too often we substitute the "pleasure" of material comforts for real happiness, to the point where our emotional and intellectual well-being is now largely misplaced.  Too much of what we think and feel about ourselves is now money-driven in a direction that, ultimately, can only be destructive. That's the very problem that I tried the most to rage against during my little campaign for Congress.

A few years ago I went to hear a Russian cellist perform in Louisville.  I wish that I could remember his name, because he was brilliant.  Anyway, he conducted a seminar for music students the day before his performance, and he was less than enthusiastic about what he heard.  "What's the matter with you Americans?" he asked with dismay.  "You play with no passion.  Have you lost your souls?"  I've always remembered that poignant question of his, and I've always hoped that he's wrong.  But I often fear that he's right.

Monday, August 14, 2006.

I drove and flew all day.  From Montreal across the border to the Highgate Vermont Airport, where the little Mooney was waiting for me.  Long lines at the border crossing, where  I rued the fact that my hard-won NEXUS card was of no use - the special lane is only open from 6:30 to 8:00 AM.  NEXUS is a bi-lateral U.S. Canadian program to pre-clear frequent travelers - one has to be background-checked by both governments, biometrically fingerprinted, photographed, and interviewed.  I did all of that, but my card is only good for limited hours at two border crossings - and it's no good when I fly commercial or private aircraft.  To top it all off, my name is on the no-fly watch list - or one of them at least.  Five years after 9/11, all of the talk about effectively using advanced technology to combat terrorist threats is still largely that - a lot of talk.

The last leg of my journey was a flight from Long Island to Louisville.  The headwinds were so strong that  I had to make a fuel stop in West Virginia.  As I approached Louisville in the nighttime gloom, the winds kept getting stronger, and I though that I'd never land.  When I finally did, I was amazed at how hot and muggy it was, in spite of the effects from an advancing cold front.  And I had forgotten how much louder Kentucky cicadas are than their Canadian brethren.

Sunday, August 13, 2006.

As it turns out my neighbor in Montreal is a climatologist.  He's a Welsh scientist, now working on a research grant from the Government of Canada, and his job is to assess the impact of global warming and acid rain on North America's climate.  On his first day as my neighbor, which happened to be Derby Day last year, I plied him with some of my finest small-batch bourbon whiskey, and we argued earth sciences for hours on end.  We've been arguing about that ever since - in a neighborly way, of course. He's a very intelligent but very opinionated guy, particularly when fortified with fine Kentucky Bourbon, which he grudgingly admits is a worthy rival to good Scotch. I had dinner with him today on our common back porch.  "Seen Al's movie yet?" I asked him. "No," he grumbled, "I don't go in for all of that populist stuff."  "But it's a good film," I pointed out, "and we've got to get the message out to the masses somehow." "Yeah," my neighbor groused, "they make us do 'outreach' too, but I don't like it."  "Well," I told him, "there's a huge disconnect between science and the common man that's only growing larger, and that's how the popular press is able to latch on to foolish notions like the 'junk science' myth."  "True, but I hate it anyway, "answered the Welshman, "especially when some idiot Nobel laureate in physics proselytizes about climate change even though he has no idea what he's talking about." "Well," I answered, "that's where Al's film can help." We talked for a while about the relationship between atmospheric CO2 content and the rise in global temperature. "The model that Gore refers to is too simple," my neighbor said, "because it doesn't take into account the exponential effects of moisture content on temperature variations." "So, do we have more or less than the ten years to do something, like Al claims, before we cause irreversible climate change?" "We don't know," said the Welshman quietly. "But we do know that the earth is getting rapidly warmer, and that the effects of that are going to be very unpleasant."  We were both very quiet then for a while.  Before I left  I offered to let him keep one of my bottles of bourbon, as I don't drink it very often, but he politely declined.

Wednesday, August 9, 2006.

I'm incredibly lucky to have the time and the means to flit from coast to coast on occasion (please note that I have neither the time nor the means to do so more than occasionally). From San Fran I flew (part commercial, part me) to Cape Cod, where I'm also incredibly lucky to have some good friends who happen to have the means (which, by no means are the same as my means) to have a place there.  We drank wine, happily devoured several dozen Wellfleet Oysters (which, btw, are my new candidates for best in the world), and remained thankfully aware that we are among the lucky ones on this planet.  I spend a lot of time these days comparing the quality of my life to, say, those of us who live (or die) in Beirut or Baghdad or Bangladesh.  I try not to dwell on all of that, but it's a good thing to do sometimes, because it keeps you from ever even needing to compare your life to that of people who hang out, say, in Wellfleet or Wimbledon or Washington.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006.

Monday, July 24, 2006.

Sunday, July 23, 2006.

Thursday, July 20, 2006.
  Hard to believe that it's been 37 years.  Took this pic myself; that's probably as close as I'll ever get to the place - sigh.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006.

Had a couple of beers today near Washington DC today with a guy who happens to be a reasonably mid-to-high-level official in a reasonably well-known Very Large Government Agency (VLGA).  "Know what's wrong with the system?" he asked, as if I didn't know.  "We spend all of this effort making people swear that they're unable to work before we'll give them any benefits, " he continued, "and then when we finally do give them benefits, we spend the rest of their lives trying to find them a job."

Friday, July 14, 2006.

Saturday, July 1, 2006.

Spent over two hours on the phone with my old buddy Tom tonight.  He and I don't talk nearly often enough, but when we do the conversation rambles on at a breakneck pace for a frightfully long time, and tonight was no exception. Tom is an electrical engineer for Lucent (aka Alcatel aka Bell Labs) in New Jersey and he was an Army captain back in the days when I did my missile thing; he and I worked in the same building at HQ US EUCOM in Germany.  In those days all of our computers were old command-line VAXs; we had to type phrases like "Copy A B" or "Rename X Y" if we wanted our infernal machines to do anything.  I still remember Tom showing me a spare graphics display that he had set up to work on one of his projects. It ran some mysterious operating system and it had graphical "windows" on it so that you could run multiple functions on the same screen, and drag them all around with a mouse-like thingy, which was a device that our computers didn't have.  I thought it was all pretty cool, but at the end of the day I was just as clueless as the rest of us were about what Tom was doing.  Tom was (and is) one of the most brilliant engineers I ever met.

A few years back Tom took a sabbatical from Bell Labs / Lucent and went to work on a Brookings Institute fellowship for Bill Frist.  In DC Tom helped to craft some of the legislation that Frist's internet steering committee (or whatever it was) was working on at the time.  In his living room Tom still has a framed picture of the legislation that he wrote, now defunct, that was signed into law.  Tom  worked on all sorts of interesting stuff during his days with Frist; lots of policy wonk language and legislation.  He calls himself a "classic Republican" but during our two-hour marathon we discovered that we weren't that far apart on much of anything.  Maybe he and I are both what some are referring to fondly as "Cultural Creatives."

Tom and I talked about all sorts of stuff endlessly; we had lots of catching up to do, but the great thing about us is that it doesn't matter how long we go between phone calls, we reconnect instantly and then we take it from there.  I was very anxious to hear Tom's opinion on the subject of net neutrality; he and I both think that the ridiculous legislation that the House just passed is preemptive and unnecessary.  It's all about big business posturing, and it's just plain wrong.   We can only hope that the Senate kills it, but alas, the reach of the telecommunications industry is a long one.

Tom's a bit worried that a recent round of mergers/acquisitions may force him into too-early retirement; in any event he's now in the sunset phase of his engineering career, and I think that maybe his professional path and mine are about to cross again in the brave new world of politics.  If I ever get elected to anything, Tom's going to be the first guy I call. If I haven't already talked him into doing a campaign with me, that is.

"... the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!""- Jack Kerouac (On the Road).
 

Monday, June 26, 2006.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006.

I had never been to the Tumbleweed Restaurant on River Road before tonight.  To be perfectly honest I'm not sure that I even knew it existed before tonight.  The area around the restaurant, a stretch of River Front Park that lies east of the old Big Four Railroad Bridge, just isn't a place that I often find myself.  But it is for plenty of other people; in spite of the oppressive heat there were lots of families having picnics, strolling about, or just lying in the musty grass.  I felt like I was about to melt, in spite of the fact that I've been training myself to live without air conditioning.

I went to Tumbleweed to meet up with a bunch of Young Democrats, who have been trying hard to get better organized.  I'm too old to join them, but they happily pointed out that I could be made a "Memberus Emeritus," for the right price that is.  I winced but tentatively agreed to help finance them.  I'm finding this post-campaign environment to be a more expensive proposition than was my own self-financed campaign :-o  But it's OK.  It's for a good cause - a necessary cause.

While strolling about I couldn't help but gaze at the approach-less ends of the old railroad bridge.  The Big Four was the first "real" bridge ever built across the Ohio at Louisville, and it carried rail traffic from 1895 until 1969.  The serpentine approaches were removed in the 1970s, as best  I can remember.  The bridge is a classic example of 19th-century structural over-design; I remember my old mechanical engineering professor talking about how 19th century engineers didn't know how to properly calculate the stresses in indeterminate structures (which I found perfectly understandable, since I didn't know how to calculate them, either.  Indeterminate structures and the steam tables of thermodynamics were the major forces that drove me to study electrical engineering instead).  To compensate for their lack of design knowledge, these early engineers simply added as many extra support braces as they thought they needed in order to make a structure safe. I still remember my professor, Dr. Dressman I think was his name, asserting that if the Eiffel Tower were built today, it would only need about 2o percent of the material that was originally used.  But it wouldn't be the Eiffel Tower.

Looking at the old Big Four, I wondered if it could ever be re-vamped to carry rail traffic - passenger rail traffic, that is.  It certainly looks to be structurally sound; maybe there's something to be said for 19th-century over-design.  Planned obsolescence, it seems, was a 20th-century innovation.  But the approaches are the problem.  There's no way to ever recover the real estate that would be needed in order to make the Big Four usable again.  But it was a thought worth having, for that particular moment, standing as I was underneath that bridge in the oppressive heat.    

Went to a fundraiser for Amy Shir.  JY was there; Mayor Jer was supposed to be, but wasn't.  Afterward I went to a sushi restaurant with some buddies and, lo and behold, Patrick Nealy and a whole passel of young Republicans were there eating.  I recognized some of them from previous events - they'd been shadowing us during the primary.  I went around the large table and shook everyone's hand while most of them were in mid-sushi, and Patrick introduced me to the ones who I didn't know.  "You act like you're still running for office!" one of them said.  "Well, maybe I still am," I smiled. 

Friday, June 16, 2006.

"Can you help me with this?"  I was in a woman's back yard.  My target at the time was a large, sweaty man who was preparing to mix some concrete in a wheelbarrow for a patio that he was about to pour.  He was a Bush man, ex-Army, and he muttered that we ought to send a ton more troops to Iraq in order to "do the job right." I wished him luck with his patio; it was a dreadfully hot day. His neighbor, who wasn't on my list. was trying to assemble a Garden Ridge porch swing, and she was having a tough time.  She had it half-assembled, but most of the pieces were installed bass-ackwards.  I helped her disassemble it and we got most of it put back together when she mercifully relieved me of duty.  I spent about 45 minutes with her.

Saturday, June 10, 2006.

"How come you haven't been updating your blog?"  I still get those questions on a regular basis.  The short answer is that I've been busy trying to get back to life, back to reality.  The longer, more difficult answer is that I continue to be confounded by human nature.  I have seen more enigmatic behavior, more underhanded unscrupulousness, more human oddities in the last few months in these political circles than I have in the whole rest of my 49 years.  I'll expand on that later - if not here then in the book that I've finally decided that I absolutely must write. 

Friday, June 2, 2006

I sauntered into the new 8664 digs on Market Street this evening.  It was the "grand opening" of their new HQ in a vacant storefront.  JC Stites was there, but Tyler Allen was on his way back from a city planning conference in Providence and couldn't make it.  The offices are at present frightfully austere, sans furniture save for a reception-like contraption made of very old, over-painted wood about two thirds of the way back from the glass storefront.    The walls are adorned with large photographs furnished, ironically, by the Bridges Project to show how the new Spaghetti Junction redesign effort will "transform" the face of our city.  The first picture on the right was the most stunning.  It showed the new junction in 3D relief against an aerial photograph of the city.  The new junction loomed over Slugger Field (the baseball stadium) like a giant Flying Spaghetti Monster of the type that would make members of the Kansas Board of Education tremble in fear. 

The first Friday of every month is "Trolley Hop" day in Louisville.  Little green commuter trolleys, designed to look quaint but failing to achieve that end, circulate through downtown, offering  free rides to meandering visitors.  As a general rule people hop on and off of the trolleys and saunter amongst downtown attractions from the Glass Works on the west side to the 4th Street bars in the center to the art galleries along Market Street in the east.  Our city is sliced in half by the elevated sections of I-65, the expressway that is the main north-south corridor from Michigan to the Florida panhandle.  The construction of that highway in the 1950s marked the beginning of the end for Louisville's inner city.  As I've written in the Louisville section of my campaign website, one need only drive the stretch that crosses under I-65, from the old Male High School along St. Catherine to 7th Street, to see what has happened. That drive will take you past beautiful old buildings in a beautiful old neighborhood, buildings that now stand forlorn, isolated, and sad. I-65 tore the heart out of that district. When I-64 was built along Louisville's riverfront in the 1960s, there was nothing left to stop it.  Louisville's central core was already dead.

The storefront 8664 offices lie just west of the I-65 elevated highway, only a few blocks from the baseball stadium.  In spite of the fact that there was a baseball game that night, I had no trouble finding a parking spot right around the corner from 8664 HQ. It sits in a row of buildings that are gradually being renovated into shops, condos, and office spaces, but the specter that one still sees in that row of buildings is one of sad decay rather than hopeful rebirth.  "What's wrong with this picture?" I asked JC.  "It's Trolley Hop night, there's a ball game, and I have no problem finding a parking sport right around the corner.  Parking should be a pain in the ass!  I should have to fight to get a spot." Louisville still has a long way to go."  JC had no choice but to agree.  But the city's slow progress isn't going to stop us from trying.

The trolley buses, JC informed me, had been instructed not to stop in front of 8664 HQ.  "Gotta be the mayor's office," JC muttered.  He and I stood in the street whenever we saw a trolley, trying to flag it down so that we could elucidate their passengers about the desirability of a visit to the 8664 offices.  Some drivers obliged, stopping long enough to hear our pleadings while their passengers sat, passive and disinterested.  No one disembarked, and few of the buses even bothered to slow down as we tried to hail them. 

I hung with JC and a few visitors for a while, but finally I grew restless as well.  I told him that I was going to grab something to eat.  "Want me to bring you back a pizza?" I asked him.  "That's OK," he smiled.  "See you later."  I took off with friends and walked down to the galleries that are segregated along the east side of Market Street.  In one gallery a young man came up to me and said, "Jimmy, I just wanna shake your hand.  I've had your Exile on K Street sign on my balcony for weeks, I love your message, and I hope that you keep going." I was stunned.

At the end of the evening, after my friends had all left for home, I wandered into a jazz club to hear a little music.  While I ordered a glass of water at the bar, a 30-something woman noticed the 8664 sticker that I was wearing.  "What's that for?" she wanted to know.  I explained the whole concept to her, told her about my congressional campaign, and about how Anne Northup opposes the 8664 initiative. "Oh, I'm a Republican and I'm gonna vote for her anyway," the woman said.  "Don't you think that she's a little conservative for our town?" I asked her.  The woman stiffened on her bar stool. I was in the mood for a good fight, so I decided to persist. "Then how about all of the money that she's taken from the oil lobby?" My ersatz opponent turned her back and the conversation ended before it ever really began.

Sunday, May 29, 2006.

Hawpe is after me again.  I wonder why?

Sunday, May 21, 2006.

Hah!  Read David Hawpe today.  He called me "the candidate who was most interesting..." and then he questioned my stance on marijuana legalization.  He's certainly got a point about the potential addictive qualities of pot;  I think that some additional discussion is needed to determine what toxicity levels of certain chemicals would be allowed in any legalized marijuana product.  Am already getting some e-mails about that :-)

Back on Denton Randall Radio Sundae, WHAS 840 AM, 1:00 PM.  Follow this link to listen.  Got a nice note afterward from a judicial candidate, who shall go unnamed here.  He listened to my abbreviated performance, and wrote to say that he was impressed.  We were a bit pre-empted by the CEO of YUM Brands, who was calling in to Denton's show from Darfur.  As  I told Denton, world hunger trumps a defeated candidate any ol' day of the week.

Friday, May 19, 2006.

Had a great time at Flanagan's last night.  - Kudos again to Enid Redman and the America 2000 Democratic Club for organizing that.  One the way in a young woman sitting in a chair on the sidewalk recognized me and said, "Hey! I voted for you!"  "Thanks," I told her, and I kissed her hand.  "Stay tuned, " I told her, "Jimmy ain't done yet!" Everyone had a splendid time, and it was just what we needed.  John, Andrew, Burrel and me talked and laughed.  Some pix should be up on the Louisville Dem site soon. I bought Andrew a black-and-tan and he bought me a pint back.  I bought John a couple of glasses of wine. John said, "I should buy you a drink." "Hell no!" I answered.  "You kicked my ass! Loser buys!" So he let me.

Sheamus let us all give a short speech.  I repeated my standard stump stuff about camaraderie and respect, and I meant it. Then I said, "I'm not a candidate any more so I can say this: You guys ready to kick some Republican ass?"  "Yeah!" the crowd answered.  "Well then, let's go kick some ass!  Let's make it happen!"  Then I handed the microphone back to Sheamus.  "You always spoke your mind even when you were a candidate," Andrew reminded me. :-)  At the end of the night I loaned Burrel 20 bucks for cab fare home.  We promised to do lunch.

Did an interview with the Kentucky Democrat:

http://kydem.blogspot.com/2006/05/interview-with-james-w-moore-former.html

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Hell,  I thought that I could stop blogging for a while, but I'm being overwhelmed with congratulatory phone calls, e-mails and offers.  This is amazing - I'm blown away. Very nice comments by Francene on WHAS today... But I gotta get some real work done... And line up tix to do yearlykos - I simply must go...

Late Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Final Results - 100% of precincts reporting, campaign finance data valid thru April 30:

                                     votes      %          expenditures     cost / vote
Burrel Charles Farnsley     3,322   5.8%         $500.00 = $0.15 / vote
James Walter Moore        4,580    8.0%       $1600.00 = $0.35 / vote
John Yarmuth                30,958  53.8%   $131320.82  = $4.24 / vote
Andrew Horne                18,659  32.4%   $112366.32  = $6.02 / vote

Well, I almost beat Burrel.  It's that damn name recognition factor that he's got;  it's hard to beat that ;-)

Am I disappointed?  Sure, a little.  Surprised? Not really. The logical Jimmy had hoped for 10% of the vote, but to go from nowhere to 4580 votes in three months, on a shoestring budget, well, that ain't half bad.  I fought the good fight.  Of course, the romantic Jimmy wanted to win, as did many of the hopelessly romantic Jimmy Squad members.  We fought the good fight, and we'll be back.

This has been an amazing experience, and I have no regrets. If you've ever considered entering a political campaign, dear reader, either as a candidate or a supporter, may I please urge you to just do it? I've met so many great people in such a short amount of time - people who I might otherwise have gone a lifetime without ever meeting - that that experience alone has made all of this worthwhile. I will never see my city, or my country, in the same way again. Every time I travel around my little corner of America from now on, I'll be thinking about this.

A lot of my friends, both old and new, are already asking me what's next - I think that we're all looking at this as a beginning rather than an ending. So what is next, you ask? For now my entire political focus will be on November 7th - about getting John Yarmuth elected. After that, I'll decide what's next for me - no, I mean us - because I'm no longer alone in this enterprise. I have friends, I have allies, and we'll decide together what to do next. This is not at all about me. This is about us. Rest assured that we'll be doing something cool - so please stay tuned, dear reader, and check back here from time to time to see what's new.

As soon as I finish Denton Randall's radio show on Sunday, I'm gonna climb in the plane and head to DC for a conference. Time to get back to the software biz and pay some bills! After DC I have a few business go-sees to do in the New England area, and I figure to make a few stops as we wing our way up to Montreal - an airplane sure is handy for that. Once I get to Montreal I plan to chill out on my porch for a few days and think about what's just happened. All of my Canadian friends have been following this race wide-eyed and fascinated; They're going to want me to explain to them the strange, mysterious world of American politics. I'm not sure that I'll be able to.

For now I'll leave you, dear reader, with the words that I might use when I try to explain all of this to my Canadian friends - the words of a very wise man - a man far wiser than I could ever hope to be. He aptly described the experience that I've just had in a way that I probably never could - and he did it over 2,400 years ago:

"Wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the dark. When you have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. And thus our State, which is also yours, will be a reality, and not a dream only."

Plato - The Republic (book VII)
 

Tuesday Evening, May 16, 2006.

I'm at my election night party.  Follow this link to get real-time election results.

Midday Tuesday, May 16, 2006.

More reports coming in that voter turnout is unusually light - there may only be 20-30,000 votes in play - that could favor me.  I voted at about 10:30 AM at Carrithers Middle School - click here for a pic.  Our precinct was practically deserted;  I stayed around for about twenty minutes to shoot the bull with a bunch of bored poll workers....

Real-time election results:

http://electionresults.ky.gov/KyElectWeb/kes?AC=3&RF=0&AR=0&R=A04003000&L=3056&N=U.S.+REPRESENTATIVE+3RD+DIST&RV=148285&DV=259536&TP=501&TC=1

Early Tuesday, May 16, 2006.

Primary election day. My name will be number one on the ballot ;-) Please vote.  

Matt reports voter turnout very light at his precinct.  Message from "secret" source showing Yarmuth with early lead...

But I still think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

Here's the essence of the final campaign e-mail that I sent this weekend to supporters:
Someday Louisville's riverfront will be ours again. 8664 is the right vision for our city.
Someday a little guy or girl running a $1500 kitchen-table campaign is going to trump a $200,000 media buy and win a major election.
How? With a laptop computer, some courage and conviction, and an amazing thing called the internet.
When that day finally comes, Americans will have their democracy back. That day can be Tuesday, but only if you vote to make it happen.
This is how we're going to beat Anne, ladies and gentlemen. With courage, conviction, and a sensational upset that will rock the world of American politics.
You can't buy publicity like that - not at any price.

Even later Monday, May 15, 2006.

Many angry callers on Joe Elliott. I've been trying to call in to the show; no luck - lines are all busy. I'm getting angry e-mails, too, in between many positive ones.  It's all about immigration.  This issue is becoming the raw nerve of America.

Later Monday, May 15, 2006.

Matt just called.  "Turn on WHAS! Terry Meiners is interviewing Horne!".  "Damn!" I blurted.  I'd been trying to get on Meiners show for months; no callbacks from the producer.  Called and talked to Ian Burchtrees, producer.  He claims that this is the first he's heard of it.  Meiners just now on the air said that this is a race between Yarmuth and Horne.  Aaaarghh!!!!! Told Burchtrees that I've been on Francene, been on Joe Elliott, been on Denton Randall, and how come he doesn't know about me?!  Waiting right now on a callback to get on the show...

WOW!!! What a save!!  The phone rings and I answer it, with a piece of bread in my mouth, and it's Terry Meiners, and I'm on the air!!  "Hey, James?," he asks, "It's Terry Meiners and we're broadcasting... "  "I hope that I have a chance to finish the piece of bread that I'm eating, " I blurted.  Matt got it all on tape.  We've posted it as an mp3.  Listen here.  At the end Terry said, "James, you rock buddy!" Wow.  Hats off to good old Matt... (NB: Matt - You're not really old.  Just good :-)

Monday, May 15, 2006.

Results of the Mojo straw poll:

James Walter Moore 18 Votes %47
Andrew Horne 16 Votes %42
John Yarmuth 3 Votes %8
Burrell Charles Farnsley 1 Vote %3

Several interesting phone calls today.  Well-placed people, calling to say things like, "don't get your hopes up too high, but I gotta tell ya, I've been talking to an awful lot of people and...."  Also getting lots of e-mails like this one:

I'm e-mailing you today to let you know that I admire your guts, your honesty, and your integrity... my opinion is this -- You are right about almost everything. I don't think I've ever met someone with whom I agreed on virtually every issue. You assume the good faith of the public and your opponents, and you assume the intelligence of your audience. You are way ahead of your time. You are right about the $1500 campaign. You are right about 8664. You are right about decriminalizing private use of marijuana. You deserve to win this campaign. You are more confident and more comfortable in your own skin than the two "front-runners." If you ever run again, you can count on my very active support. Stick to your guns -- time is on your side and the political climate will move toward you. You have made a lot of believers this time around.

I hope you win. If you don't, I hope you'll run again. You can count on my active support if you do.

Wow.  That one kinda got to me ... ;-)

Sunday, May 14, 2006.

Canvass canvass canvass.   Gotta cover J'town.  Happy Mother's Day, ma.  I love you, even if you are a Rush Limbaugh Republican :-)

Saturday, May 13, 2006.

Did a "get out the vote" motorcade in the west end.  We started from a parking lot at 26th and Broadway, went all the way to Cane Run Road, downtown, and back again. On the radio WFPK was playing cuts from "Exile on Main Street," as it was the 34th anniversary of the album's release, or something thereabouts. We hosed up traffic pretty badly, but few people seemed to mind.  We toured through good neighborhoods and bad, boarded-up schools and new ones, and we drove through the sickening, ether-and-plastic sweet stench of Rubbertown.   We drove past burned out factories and old whiskey warehouses.  But mostly we drove past people, honking horns and waving flags.  Some ignored us, but many stood on their front porches and waved. "This is real democracy," I thought to myself.  And it was.

Friday, May 12, 2006.

Well, today was a fun day all around.  It started off right when I read a political thread on Mojo that contained this analysis of my candidacy: "James Moore is HAWT for an older guy..."  That made my day - at least until the guys in the office trumped that gem by unveiling their "Jimmy Goes Negative" video spot.  The previous day we had joked around about how it might be fun to parody negative political ads by creating an attack ad on me - so the guys did it.  Hats off to Matt and Josh for that one (even if they were goofing off!).  As soon as I saw it I called Burrell and asked him if he minded us distributing it.  "Go for it," he told me.  I wrote up a tongue-in-cheek press release, posted the video on my Podcast page and on YouTube, and e-mailed every Democratic contact, every blog site, every media outlet that I could find.  Plus, I sniped a bit at some of the idiots on Bluegrass.  Here's what I wrote in a message entitled "Jimmy Goes Negative!":

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

3rd District Congressional Candidate James Walter Moore today released his first negative campaign ad. The 30-second spot, available only as a video file on YouTube and via Moore's campaign website, viciously attacks the candidate's own position on the 8664 initiative.

When asked for comment about the ad, Moore replied, "Well, the League of Women Voters never made me promise that I couldn't attack myself."

The ad can be viewed by following this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4VUIjeysp0

or

http://www.jameswmooreforcongress.com/media/negative.wmv

Stop candidate Moore from spreading these vicious lies! Forward this message to everyone!!

(Done with Burrell's blessing, btw :-)

Of course one boob on Bluegrass had to comment, "Further proof that Moore isn't a serious candidate." To which another replied, "Further proof that Moore has a sense of humor and you don't!".  To which I replied:

Ja, and in case you hadn't noticed, there's a serious side to our little spoof. We're "crashing the gate," just as Kos wrote about in his book. All of you old-school, old-world armchair experts are about to witness something amazing - either in this election, or in an election that I fervently hope will come very soon.

Someday (maybe on Tuesday) a little guy running a $1500 kitchen table campaign is going to trump the $200,000 media buy and win a big election. How? By using a laptop, a $300 camera, and an amazing thing called the internet.

You ain't seen nuthin' yet, kids.
 

Thursday, May 11, 2006.

My mood changed today about as often as the weather, dear reader.  First it was hot and humid, then it was freezing cold.  Then it swung back and forth all over again.  The live debate at Vincenzo's was announced as a "Forum on Nuclear Proliferation," then it was a  "Forum on Nuclear Proliferation and Foreign Policy," then, when it finally started, it was announced as a "Forum on Foreign Policy."  When the questions came, they were about anything but foreign policy.  I decided to let the crowd know that I spent a decade working on nuclear weapons, anyway.  That made a few of them sit up and take notice.

AH was seated to the left of the podium, and he began sniping at JY, who was seated to my right.  AH's campaign had that day released a negative ad, attacking JY's proposed payroll tax increase.  As AH spoke, I could see Dan Borsch, JY's campaign manager, signaling to JY from the back of the room not to respond.  JY did anyway, but he was fairly magnanimous. The moderator Barry Bernson frankly didn't do a very good job of policing the "order of battle," and several times as I tried to begin speaking I was cut off by AH.  Here I was, stuck in the middle again.  I felt overlooked and under-appreciated, poor me! :-(  But, as I pointed out to Caroline later, I went in there with zero votes from the pro-Yarmuth Louisville Forum crowd, and I came out of there with maybe a couple of votes and a free Vincenzo's lasagna lunch to boot.  Plus an even more elevated opinion of JY, who I am more thoroughly convinced is a good guy.

Later in the day we were all together again at a candidate forum sponsored by The Yearlings Club in the west end.  WDRB TV was there filming, and their reporter asked me my opinion of the negative campaign ads that AH had started running that day.  "Unfortunate," I told her, and then I launched into my standard ditty about party unity.  When I finished with that, I told her all about my Kos experience and about how the internet was in the process of revolutionizing American politics in a very serious way.  She took note, apparently, and their news report that night featured a fairly lengthy segment about my internet-based campaign.   That made me happy!

I also came away from the forum with a very good feeling mixed with a bit of sadness.  This was to be the last candidate forum before the election, and as such I was already beginning to feel the letdown. The forum itself was excellent; AH, JY and me were all seated very close together in the front of a medium-sized room, we all gave thoughtful, introspective answers to some very tough questions.  We were all very respectful and deferential towards one another - in an honestly sincere manner.  It felt good to be there with them.  We even joked around a bit, and it was an altogether pleasant experience.  When it was over, I told one of the organizers, "You know, at the risk of sounding patronizing, I've got to tell you that I've been most impressed by the candidate forums held by the African American community.  People show up, they ask tough questions, they listen, and they take notes."  "Well," he said, casting his gaze downwards, "we have to."

It seems that one creative young college student has written a parody of my campaign diary.  A friend of his e-mailed it to me, and I found it hilarious.  I wrote back to him and asked permission to reproduce it here, with or without attribution.  He sheepishly agreed to allow me to do so - with attribution.  So, without further ado, I offer you the official Jimmy Blog Parody:

OFFICIAL HOMEMADE WEB BLOG THINGEE (a tribute to the 2006 District 3 Congressional Election) by John David Lee

1st entry--myriads, myriads of bombastically deep thoughts to share with the disenfranchised masses. is it perspicuous for me to share them? but "woe is me if i do not share my thoughts with all of humanity, daily, in great tedium..."

Early April--thought, on how the main problem with society is there simply aren't enough philosophy majors... i've got a plan in the works for a bill that will propose paying all philosophy majors' tuitions, for their entire college journey, and then guaranteeing them top-paying jobs as CEOs with major Fortune 500 companies upon their graduation... this is definitely what our society needs...

Later--oh, how i've muddied the political waters of humanity, and what a sad day it was for me to realize that... the blood in the river is mine... oh heartbreak, sorrow, sadness... why can't we all just get along? ...

Later--Things to do today: hire a really uptight, former CIA agent to be our bouncer for the upcoming Democratic fundraiser dinner party. we know Ann Northruppe (sorry, i don't know how to spell her name--JDL, editor) has some spies in place to infiltrate our campaign and find out our all-important secrets, probably teenage reporters disguised as college newpaper writers, and we're gonna find them and make them pay... Ann N. is a sneaky one, for sure... Bush is evil, go Democrats!

Mid-April--
1:33 AM--slight pain in my left pinkie toe, felt need to share it on my blog
1:42 AM--pain went away
3:27 AM--couldn't sleep, scratched my right shoulder for 4.6 seconds
4:24 AM--finally back to sleep
4:32 AM--false alarm, back awake
somehow, this is all George Bush and Ann. N's fault

Late one night, April--had a dream about the war... both sides were able to take a break from the fighting and come together for the common good. we were laughing and drinking and playing Monopoly together, good times were had by all. it was a glorious picture of the human race. beautiful flowers were sprouting up everywhere, and pink bunnies were gently playing by the brook. then suddenly the alarm sounded and we all had to go back to our foxholes. the break was over, and i realized how sad it was that i had to go back to fighting. then, the Republicans starting mowing down the flowers and killing the bunnies, and i remembered why i'm a Democrat. George Bush and Ann N. must be stopped... think of the bunnies... Republicans are evil...

Mid-April--blah, blah, blah blah blah. blaaah, blahhh, blahh.
blllllaaaahhh. bla, bla, blahhhhh.
bbbllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
bla, bla, blah, blah, bbblllaaahhh. bla, blah, bla.

Later mid-April--things to do today: go to debate among candidates. look good, sound good. then get drunk and act like an idiot and drop repeated f##k-bombs in front of a 19-year-old reporter (who's really beautiful, by the way--great mother, world-traveler, really smart, anointed, loves the Lord--an unbelievable catch... JDL, editor) then, continue to cuss and try to buy the aforementioned reporter drinks.
keep cussing, act like a fool, etc. (mission definitely accomplished)

The next week, April--things to do today: (1) wet my pants while listening to 84 WHAS morning talk show (2) call in and try to save face on the air
(3) call up and harrass aforementioned reporter

Late April--must begin looking to the great KET debate, intense preparations begin now...
(1) must practice looking totally natural on tv
(2) must think up some way to get that line in from Charlton Heston (big right to bare arms guy--JDL, editor) about "prying my gun from my cold, dead hands"--only, apply it to my remote control and public television, and then say how cool it was to get to say that on tv (which, i wholeheartedly agree--scored major cool points with me on that one, made me chuckle--JDL,
editor)

Early May--things to do today: call up aforementioned 19-yr-old reporter (really pretty, by the way. miss her already--JDL, editor) and find out how terrible i did during the KET debate...

May's agenda: try to get in as much drama as possible... drama drama drama, woe is me... i'm just a guy who really wants to be loved... just to be loved, that's all i want... by lots and lots of people...

NB by JWM:  Excellent, don't you think?  Clearly the young gentlemen's motives for writing this piece extended well beyond his desire to skewer me; in writing to grant me permission to publish, he even admitted as much: "...if you could, please do post it with attribution, simply so i can brag about it to ____ (believe me, i'll get a lot of miles out of that one)." The blanked name refers to the 19-year-old journalist to whom he referred in his piece.  The astute reader will infer that the young gentlemen obviously fancies her a bit. ;-)  I've long since forgotten what teenage romance is all about, but if publishing this young man's diatribe here can aid him in his quest, well then I am only happy to oblige.  For the record, I have never had more than three beers at any public appearance, and that was only once, after the Masterson's Debate.  When in public I usually have a glass of wine, a beer or two, a glass of water, and then I am driven home.  I have, of course, never attempted to purchase alcohol for an under-age person (unless, of course, I did it for myself back when I was a college student ;-).  After the Masterson's debate I was so full of adrenaline that I was a bit loud and boisterous, unfortunately.  It was such an amazing experience that I badly needed to decompress afterward, as I have written.  My friends will all attest that I can at times be foolish, but that I am never reckless.  Or so they tell me.
 

Wednesday, May 10, 2006.

Wow.  If it's possible for liberals to be born again, well then I've just been born again.  Markos Moulitsas Zuniga.  Kos himself.  Jim Derych, "Confessions of a Former Dittohead."  These guys were amazing.  Listened to them speak at the Metro Dem club meeting last night.  Was transfixed. Transformed.  Reborn.  These guys buy in to every idea that I've had, every emotion that I've felt, every thing that I've been trying to accomplish with this little kitchen-table campaign of mine.  If you weren't there, dear reader, then you missed something truly revolutionary.  Try to catch up with them on their book tours. (We were lucky that they crossed paths in Louisville; it was their first time on stage together and they pulled it off like Rowan and Martin.)  Go to yearlykos.  As I wrote to a friend, "This is the face of new American politics - new American society - This is how all of us Godless, baby-killing, gay-loving, tree-hugging, latte-drinking, Volvo-driving, left wing nut-fudge liberal types are gonna take back the country from the neo-cons..." ;-)

Jim Derych ended up staying at my house.  We gabbed and gabbed, which is going to make Thursday tough on us both.  He has to drive to Cleveland for another book-signing, I have to be semi-lucid at two candidate debates... :-o.

Watch them speak here: http://www.hillbillyreport.com/blog/local_democrat_event/index.html

Tuesday, May 9, 2006.

Where were you when the lights went out? Right in the middle of a live TV debate (WAVE TV).  Scott Reynolds was asking me about 8664 when we had a power failure.  It was pretty funny, actually;  I watched the tape later and while I was talking about the 2.6 billion dollar bridges project the screen went dark.  Played right into my closing remarks on KET the night before: "My face will disappear from the small screen, and during the inevitable media blitz that will occur in the days leading up to this election, my message will be drowned out, and my voice will be silenced."   Well, my voice got silenced, all right.  Just before they cut to a commercial, with the screen pitch black, the audience could hear me say, "Whoops, we're losin' the lights!"

Earlier John and Andrew started bickering at each other on the air.  As fate would have it I was seated between them.  I noticed on the monitor that they were showing a long shot of all three of us while those two went at it, so I rolled my eyes, pointed my fingers simultaneously at each of them.  I was so tempted to do the old Chevy Chase "nyah nyah nyah" face while they were at it, but I resisted.  I'm still accused, occasionally, of looking like Chevy Chase :-)

Afterward, Tyler Allen called, all excited. "Jim! I think you moved John on the bridges!"  I thought so, too.  JY actually seemed conciliatory about 8664 on the air;  first time that we've really heard that out of him.  It seems that there is a new angle to the Jimmy Factor :-)

To watch the streaming video, follow this link and see segments 18-21. (Note that the order of 20/21 is reversed).

http://www.wave3.com/Global/SearchResults.asp?RecordNum=16&qu=hot+button
 

Monday, May 8, 2006.

You cannot believe how hot it was in that studio.  You cannot believe how tough that was, dear reader.  We were all sweating like pigs.  I kept getting cotton-mouth even though I took sips of water while off-camera, and that made me fumble a couple of lines.  But that's OK - I think that everyone understands.  Lots of nice e-mails afterward, like this one:

Just my luck;  another fan who can't vote for me :-(.

Anyway, I'm glad that that's over.  Follow this link to watch it for yourself on streaming video.

Early Monday, May 8, 2006.

A few phone calls, a couple of e-mails about the Bluegrass thing.  The consensus?  Much ado about nothing.  I agree completely; the world, it seems, is full of fools.  Too bad that we have to be reminded of that fact so often.

"Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed."

- William Shakespeare (Othello).

Later Sunday, May 7, 2006

Wow.  I had no idea that human beings could be so cowardly and so ugly. Read this thread and you'll see what I mean.  How did I manage to live 49 years without seeing this side of human nature?  Call me lucky, I guess. 

My buddy Burrell called, to tell me again that I'm Thomas Paine.  I'm beginning to wonder, though, if I have any common sense.  I tried to talk Burrell into wearing long pants for the debate tomorrow night, but I don't think that I succeeded.  It's OK.  I love Burrell just the way that he is. 

Sunday, May 7, 2006

The FEC electronic filing system is the most poorly-designed, counter-intuitive, dreadfully ponderous piece of software crap that I have had the displeasure of using in many years.  If I didn't have to prep for debates this weekend, I'd write something better and submit it to them.  I'll bet that our dear government paid some lucky souls millions of dollars to produce that garbage.  Aaargh!  No wonder that I missed the filing deadline.  No matter; I'm well below the $5K cutoff for such filings anyway; I just wanted to do it for the sake of transparency.  Finally got the data to submit, but somehow my cash on hand total of $309.80 was reset to $0.00 in the process.  Oh, well.  I'll fix that later.

Please expect no more entries from me for a few days, dear reader.  As you can see from the schedule, I have four live debates in four days to prep for, two of them on live TV.  When I'm sufficiently decompressed from all of that, I'll be back to give you my take on how it all went.  Meanwhile, wish me luck?

Saturday, May 6, 2006

Following is a modified excerpt from an aviation travel-magazine article that I wrote about the Kentucky Derby a few years back:

There are as many different recipes for mint juleps as there are people in Kentucky, and everyone will tell you that their family’s version is the best. They're all wrong, of course, because mine is simply the best. Of that there can be no doubt. Here's how it's done:

Buy as much mint as you can find. You can’t have too much mint – really. Set aside a few of the most beautiful bunches. Make a large quantity of simple syrup by boiling water and adding tons of sugar – use unrefined sugar if you want to be sophisticated. Remove the boiling sugar water from its heat source, crush the un-reserved mint sprigs in your hands, drop them into the sugar water, and stir gently. Put your hands to your face and inhale for a premonition of things to come.

Allow the mint tea mixture to cool, decant into a suitable sealed container, and refrigerate overnight. When you’re ready to indulge, put your best drinking glasses into the freezer for at least twenty minutes. Any fine vessel will do, but a real Kentuckian always uses a silver jubilee cup. Fill your cup with shaved, not crushed, ice. Pour a few fingers of fine, small-batch single-barrel Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey over the ice, and add your mint tea on top. Don’t worry if some crushed mint gets into your drink – such pollution is encouraged.

Cover your drink and let it be gently shaken, not stirred. Grab a sprig of the beautiful mint that you saved, and insert the stem vertically into the shaved ice so that the mint leaves hang over one side of the cup. Dust the leaves with powdered sugar.

Now the fun part: Hold your cup, pinky finger extended, so that the broadest parts of the mint leaves are oriented toward your nostrils. Inhale as you drink. Repeat: INHALE as you drink.

The fine mint aroma, the smooth texture of the bourbon whiskey, and the coolness of the shaved ice – All of these sensations will help you to appreciate what a fine thing that springtime and horseracing in Kentucky can be.

Friday, May 5, 2006.

Wow, C-Span called.  A very nice young lady named Casey wanted some PR contact info.  I told her that I was it.  I'd be happy to designate one of my pro-bono Jimmy Squad members to do the job, as I know several who are far more capable of rational thought than I am.  But I didn't want to impose on any of them at this point.  I told Casey that this campaign diary had become something of a phenomenon unto itself.  If I go more than a day without updating it now, I start to get phone calls.  One guy even came up to me in a bar and said, "Hey, what's up with the Blog?  You haven't been updating it!"  Frightening concept, I told Casey.  "Yeah," she said.  "I've seen a few online campaign diaries, but not that many.  Yours is one of the very few this season.  I'm surprised that more people don't do it."  So am I.

Thursday, May 4, 2006.

We ended up not doing much at the Pegasus Parade.  I'm learning that these kinds of gatherings just really don't seem right for propaganda distribution.  When the parade started, I went upstairs to the offices of a client whose windows overlook Broadway.  When May Jer rolled by on the back seat of a Corvette, I waved and showed him my t-shirt.  He looked at me quizzically.  Then he recognized me (I think :-) and made a motion as if to say - "Didn't know who you were behind those shades!"  I was wearing prescription sunglasses.  I'm not sure that he really knows who I am anyway.

Time to offer special thanks to a very special friend.  You are great, and I am honored to know you.

Tuesday, May 2, 2006.

An air of fatigue and resignation amongst all of us candidates this evening, dear reader.  We were at the Louisville African American Think Tank, for yet another candidate forum.  It isn't that any of us minded being there; it's just that these events are piling up and wearing us down.  I know of no one who will be sorry to see May 16th come and go.

After the forum an intense-looking, very pretty young African-American reporter for WLKY set up a camera for interviews.  We dutifully lined up for our few seconds under the lights.  When it was my turn she asked, "Many people in the African-American Community feel that their issues are not being addressed - how do you respond to that?"  I tried to tell her that I was there to talk about recapturing an urban identity for Louisville and that 8664 was an essential part of that, that I was there to talk about the STAR program to clean up Rubber Town, but she cut me off. "You didn't answer the question," she snarled.  That caught me by surprise.  Just about then she dropped a pack of candy that one judge candidate has been cleverly distributing.  I bent down impulsively to retrieve it for her, forgetting that the camera was rolling.  I'm sure that that maneuver looked dorky! I tried to mutter something polite about connecting with voters, but what I really wanted to say was this: "Well, lady, I just sat on my butt for two hours