November 04, 2010
Election Day sheep
In Utah's senate race, I voted for Mike Lee. I liked Bob Bennett--if Obama had embraced the actually bipartisan Wyden-Bennett plan, his party might have fared better--but the attitude that politicians, themselves the offspring of politicians, have a "right" to a seat is repugnant.
Of course, that's also true of Mike Lee (son of former Solicitor General Rex Lee), though at this point nobody's saying it was owed him.
True, Bob Bennett never claimed that, and seemed genuinely hurt by the rejection, but a lot of status quo establishment types sure did. Those foolish children disrespecting their wise elders. Well, that's democracy for you. The political mop is often as messy as the mess its cleaning up.
What makes a democratic system rugged is that it's self-correcting, not that it never makes mistakes. And incidentally, it's advise and consent, not a gladiatorial thumbs up or thumbs down. Short of felonious behavior, presidents (of either party) should get the cabinet officers they want.
That's what elections are for. By the way, if you can't stand the biennial electioneering ad onslaught, come here to Utah County. The fights are in the primaries and things calm down afterward. I'm all for gerrymandering reform, but some districts will always be solidly red or blue.
I voted the Libertarian ticket for governor. A futile gesture, but here in the third district, Utah's gubernatorial race was the only boorish one on the ballot. The Republican Herbert has governed well enough that he wasn't going to lose in any case, so only a temporary pox on their houses.
Anyway, I was in and out in ten minutes (the touch screens worked fine). I got home and glanced across the street and said, "That's a funny looking dog."
It wasn't a dog. It was a sheep. Two sheep. A ewe and lamb, I surmised. I did a double-take. And then did another one. A guy--straight out of central casting, barrel chest and bib overalls and all--comes around the fourplex kitty-corner mine and waves his hat and shouts, "Git on home!"
He had a dog with him. The dog's attitude was, "Good grief, this is embarrassing. Your problem, bud, not mine."
Now, I live in a working-class neighborhood that's mostly fourplexes and condos, with a few single family homes mixed in, abutting strip malls and two highly-trafficked roads on the south and west. Not sheep farm country.
I've noticed a horse paddock in a residential neighborhood a couple of blocks west of State Street--some sort of grandfathered zoning variance for agricultural property. So maybe somebody around here keeps sheep. Or a 4-H exhibition at the nearby elementary school went awry.
And in fine Wallace and Gromit fashion, two sheep made a bolt for freedom!
The sheep trotted nonchalantly into the back yard directly across from my place. Farmer Joe ran after them and they nonchalantly trotted back and then disappeared behind another fourplex. I waited for a couple of minutes but didn't see them again, so they must have headed west.
Those sheep would not be shepherded! I'm sure that's a metaphor for something.