Great Balls of Fire
We just can’t let her go. Molly Ivins, that is — this last week I’ve collected a diverse set of Molly-tributes … they keep popping up, and reminding us of what we’ve lost … and frankly, I still choke up reading them. There are some unusual voices here, celebrating scrappy little Molly — Maya Angelou, Paul Krugman, Amy Goodman, others. It’s a different tone than the first wave of tributes — no less admiring, but a little rougher around the edges … a little more “true.”
Below, the reads including an interview with Democracy NOW! brimming over with her authentic ring — and last, an article she wrote that I hadn’t read [hence, hadn't posted.] It was a joy to read … and seductive in time, like it was yesterday, when she was still here — only yesterday’s gone.
It’s been suggested that there be a day set aside to encourage the spirit of Molly-style journalism. That would be good — yesterday’s gone but we’re still in the fight and we need the voices of truth-tellers and joy-spreaders.
A weekend read — savor it.
Jude
Molly Ivins: America’s Jericho Voice
Maya Angelou
Tuesday, February 6, 2007 by the Miami Herald (Florida)
Up to the walls of Jericho
She marched with a spear in
her hand
Go blow them ram horns she cried
For the battle is in my hand
The walls have not come down,
but they have been given a
serious shaking.
That Jericho voice is stilled now.
Molly Ivins has been quieted.
The writer and journalist, dearly loved and admired by many, hated and feared by many, died of cancer in her Texas home on Jan. 31.
The walls of ignorance and prejudice and cruelty, which she railed against valiantly all her public life, have not fallen, but their truculence to do so does not speak against her determination to make them collapse.
Weeks before she died, she launched what she called ”an old-fashioned newspaper crusade” against President Bush’s announcement that he was going to send more troops to Iraq.
She wrote, ‘We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. Every single day every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. We need people in the streets banging pots and pans and demanding, `Stop it now!’ ”
Years ago there was a fundraising gala for People for the American Way in New York, and Molly Ivins was keynote speaker. I was a loyal collector and serious Ivins reader, but I had not met the author. Another famous journalist, who was to have introduced her, had his flight canceled in a Southern city. Norman Lear, founder of the organization, asked me to introduce her. I did not hesitate. I spoke glowingly about Ms. Ivins for a few minutes, then, suddenly, a six-foot-tall, red-haired woman sprang from the wings. She strode onto the stage and over to the microphone. She gave me an enveloping hug and said, in that languorous Texas accent, “Maya Angelou and I are identical twins, we were separated at birth.”
I am also six feet tall, but I am not white. She was under 50 when she made the statement, and I was in my middle 60s, but our hearts did beat in the same rhythm.
Whoever separated us at birth must know it did not work. We were in the struggle for equal rights for all people since we met on that Waldorf Astoria stage. We laughed together without apology, and we wept when weeping was necessary.
I shall be weeping a little more these days, but I shall never forget the charge. Joshua commanded the people to shout, and the walls came tumbling down.
Molly,
I am shouting,
With two voices,
Walls come down!
Walls come down!
Walls come down!
Poet Maya Angelou is the author of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.
The ‘toons:
“Molly Ivins 1944 - 2007″
Cagle
Molly Ivins: The Plucking Truth
Molly Ivins’ departure from The New York Times long ago came after the paper acted “chicken” and refused to let her use the phrase “gang pluck” in a story. More than a quarter century later, in its obit this week, the paper still refused to use it.
Greg Mitchell, Raw Story
February 03, 2007
When Molly Ivins passed away this week, many obits and loving tributes recalled one of her most famous lines – not because it was her sharpest or funniest, but because it helped spark her departure from The New York Times. Of course, we refer to her calling a chicken slaughtering festival in New Mexico a “gang pluck” back in 1980. Even though there were no swear words involved, the stodgy Times censored the phrase and subsequently pushed her out the door.
Surely, in swinging 2007, with some of the greyness drained out of the Grey Lady by now, the paper would finally print the phrase in its Ivins obituary? Uh, think again. Didn’t happen. Censored again. The phrase was, still, just too offensive for the Times, which described it this week as “sexually suggestive.”
Not so everywhere else, of course. Even the Daily News-Record in tiny Harrisonburg, Va., put “gang pluck” in its story.
Then the Times had the nerve to include a link to that deeply offensive July 12, 1980, chicken article in its list of nine selected articles written by Ivins that it posted online.
First, here’s how the Los Angeles Times told the story this week – later published by the Times’ sister publication, The Boston Globe: “She chronicled the mistakes and misdeeds of Texas lawmakers for five years until she was hired away by The New York Times in 1976. She covered New York politics, then became the paper’s Rocky Mountain bureau chief, but the match of Ms. Ivins and the Grey Lady of journalism was misbegotten from the get-go. The paper flattened and defoliated her colorful prose….
“The line that ended her New York Times career came in a story about a community chicken-killing festival. Ms. Ivins called the event a ‘gang pluck,’ a choice of words that caused her to be ’sort of abruptly recalled like a defective automobile and replaced,’ she told Salon.com in 2000.”
The aforementioned Harrisonburg, Va. paper put it this way: “Managing editor Abe Rosenthal also questioned her description of a chicken festival somewhere in Texas as a ‘gang pluck.’”
The much larger but still conservative Dallas Morning News related: “The grey lady and the red-headed one parted ways after Ms. Ivins covered a New Mexico community chicken festival and wanted to refer to it as ‘a gang pluck.’” Bloomberg News used the phrase, too; so did Time magazine. And, not so surprisingly, the Austin American-Statesman.
But the phrase was reduced to the following in this week’s Times’ obit: “Covering an annual chicken slaughter in New Mexico in 1980, she used a sexually suggestive phrase, which her editors deleted from the final article. But her effort to use it angered the executive editor, A. M. Rosenthal, who ordered her back to New York and assigned her to City Hall, where she covered routine matters with little flair.”
You might say the Times chickened out.
Why did this happen? Times obituary editor Bill McDonald told the Village Voice: “We thought that the standard hadn’t really changed. It was still a gratuitous remark that we didn’t need to repeat, even now.”
The Voice headline was: ‘Plucky Molly Muzzled from the Grave.”
Missing Molly Ivins
Paul Krugman, NYT
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Molly Ivins, the Texas columnist, died of breast cancer on Wednesday. I first met her more than three years ago, when our book tours crossed. She was, as she wrote, “a card-carrying member of The Great Liberal Backlash of 2003, one of the half-dozen or so writers now schlepping around the country promoting books that do not speak kindly of Our Leader’s record.”
I can’t claim to have known her well. But I spent enough time with her, and paid enough attention to her work, to know that obituaries that mostly stressed her satirical gifts missed the main point. Yes, she liked to poke fun at the powerful, and was very good at it. But her satire was only the means to an end: holding the powerful accountable.
She explained her philosophy in a stinging 1995 article in Mother Jones magazine about Rush Limbaugh. “Satire … has historically been the weapon of powerless people aimed at the powerful,” she wrote. “When you use satire against powerless people … it is like kicking a cripple.”
Molly never lost sight of two eternal truths: rulers lie, and the times when people are most afraid to challenge authority are also the times when it’s most important to do just that. And the fact that she remembered these truths explains something I haven’t seen pointed out in any of the tributes: her extraordinary prescience on the central political issue of our time.
I’ve been going through Molly’s columns from 2002 and 2003, the period when most of the wise men of the press cheered as Our Leader took us to war on false pretenses, then dismissed as “Bush haters” anyone who complained about the absence of W.M.D. or warned that the victory celebrations were premature. Here are a few selections:
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Nov. 19, 2002: “The greatest risk for us in invading Iraq is probably not war itself, so much as: What happens after we win? … There is a batty degree of triumphalism loose in this country right now.”
Jan. 16, 2003: “I assume we can defeat Hussein without great cost to our side (God forgive me if that is hubris). The problem is what happens after we win. The country is 20 percent Kurd, 20 percent Sunni and 60 percent Shiite. Can you say, ‘Horrible three-way civil war?’ ”
July 14, 2003: “I opposed the war in Iraq because I thought it would lead to the peace from hell, but I’d rather not see my prediction come true and I don’t think we have much time left to avert it. That the occupation is not going well is apparent to everyone but Donald Rumsfeld. … We don’t need people with credentials as right-wing ideologues and corporate privatizers — we need people who know how to fix water and power plants.”
Oct. 7, 2003: “Good thing we won the war, because the peace sure looks like a quagmire. …
“I’ve got an even-money bet out that says more Americans will be killed in the peace than in the war, and more Iraqis will be killed by Americans in the peace than in the war. Not the first time I’ve had a bet out that I hoped I’d lose.”
So Molly Ivins — who didn’t mingle with the great and famous, didn’t have sources high in the administration, and never claimed special expertise on national security or the Middle East — got almost everything right. Meanwhile, how did those who did have all those credentials do?
With very few exceptions, they got everything wrong. They bought the obviously cooked case for war — or found their own reasons to endorse the invasion. They didn’t see the folly of the venture, which was almost as obvious in prospect as it is with the benefit of hindsight. And they took years to realize that everything we were being told about progress in Iraq was a lie.
Was Molly smarter than all the experts? No, she was just braver. The administration’s exploitation of 9/11 created an environment in which it took a lot of courage to see and say the obvious.
Molly had that courage; not enough others can say the same.
And it’s not over. Many of those who failed the big test in 2002 and 2003 are now making excuses for the “surge.” Meanwhile, the same techniques of allegation and innuendo that were used to promote war with Iraq are being used to ratchet up tensions with Iran.
Now, more than ever, we need people who will stand up against the follies and lies of the powerful. And Molly Ivins, who devoted her life to questioning authority, will be sorely missed.
AN AUGUST 8TH CALL TO WORDS! A Worthy Tribute to Molly
Steve Young, HuffPo
Feb 3 2007
I beseech writers and websites all over the world to make August 8th, Molly Ivin’s birthday, a day of satire. A day where they drop their on-the-money reflections and replace them with cleverly-worded, insightful - and inciting - columns and blogs that give readers credit for being able to think past the words.
And if I might up the ante just a bit, we can do more.
Molly Ivin’s far too hasty exit left a huge humorless hole in the world of the sharp-as-a-knife, written word. Countless tributes from reader’s and writers’ hearts reminded us of what important, satirical gold she provided during her life, but homage to her demands a far headier task for writer and reader alike. Paying genuine tribute to this wordsmith who courageously challenged authority calls for taking up the fight. And it won’t be easy.
Yesterday, (Warning: Humongous Name Drop Ahead) Penny Marshall told me, “Satire scares me.” It should. Exposing hypocrisy carries with it enormous responsibility. It’s like admitting to someone else that we need to lose weight. We’re on record. Now if we don’t do something about it, we can’t ever see that “someone else” ever again until we actually lose weight, because if we didn’t, it would expose ourselves to be hypocrites.
But also, when you punch holes in the emperor’s facade, you could end up a target yourself, with a prevaricating Vice Emperor taking deadly aim at your credibility. ‘Course his Lords of Loud would carry that message 24/7 across the airwaves until the liberal mainstream town criers would legitimize it, reporting it as the other half of the truth.
Why would the powerful take such offense to what their lock-steppers would deem only as, at best, an off-the-mark joke from some wise guy? Because they know that imbedded in the satirist’s assaults are bullets of truth that can injure far worse than a scattershot shotgun in the hands of a Vice Emperor. The powerful will do everything to label naysayers as uninformed buffoons. For if they ever did accept the satirist’s premise, they would be faced with the worst their therapists are paid to reveal…
….everything they believe has been wrong.
But that’s what Molly fearlessly did and we can only give her just due by doing more of the same.
In my upcoming book, “The Power of Satire…The Left’s Secret Weapon And How It Will Affect, And In All Possibility, Win The 2008 Election For The Candidate Who Is Less Of A Joke Than The One He or She Is Running Against,” I make the argument for a call to words.
While I am working feverishly to shorten the title, I’m working just as hard to point out that the Left has a sword that should be used, deftly, honestly, to cut an illuminating hole in the oh-too-carefully-crafted balderdash that candidates on both sides use as justification to be elected.
My suspicion is that by the 2008 election we will be so entirely fed up with the gibberish and deception that we will be ready to admit that our past blind faith in the what we had hoped was the truth, but was never intended to be, needs to be put out to pasture with the rest of the manure.
But it will take a healthy and unremitting effort on the part of writers (and “performers”). Done right it will not only begin a heart and soul cleansing for the public, but it will deliver a pungent warning to those who are determined to continue the masquerade. In 2008, whenever they attempt to pass off blather as truth, satire must raise up on its side-splitting smarts, revealing those who try to makes fools of us as the biggest fools - and on the first Tuesday of November - losers.
Molly wouldn’t accept any less.
Good Golly, Miss Molly
Brian Morton
Feb 8 2007
When this column began its first incarnation in the spring of 1994, it was created in the spirit of the Texas author, columnist, and journalist Molly Ivins. Fiercely liberal, progressive with an eye toward the comic, Ivins was and is my hero. She believed, as do I, in the power of government to work for its people, not just as a device to make life easier and more lucrative for the wealthy and well-off. John F. Kennedy said in his inaugural address, “If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.” It was in this spirit, surrounded by the shallowness and meanness that has come to reflect Texas government and has since infected the U.S. government at large, that Ivins tilted at her windmills and cackled at greed, hubris, and stupidity.
If it weren’t for Molly Ivins, how would the rest of the country know that in Texas it’s a felony to own more than six dildos? Ivins, in her first column in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, in February 1992, dryly noted, “In their boundless wisdom, our solons decided that five or fewer of the devices make you a mere hobbyist.” That sentence alone makes you want to leap off the couch, fly to Dallas, rent a motel room, and try to break as many commandments as possible, preferably and joyously starting with things like sodomy, adultery, and any other “y’s” that might stick a thumb in the eye of whichever lugubrious Puritans came up with such a law.
We’ve seen the death of quite a few journalistic titans recently. I met Art Buchwald in the lobby of a journalism convention in the late 1980s, chewing on a cigar and holding forth in his barely understandable Queens growl. He’s gone now. I watched Ed Bradley eyeball current Sun fashion layout stylist Pascale Lemaire and the strategically placed holes in her self-designed dress at a reception hosted by the University of Maryland’s chapter of the National Association of Black Journalists back in the late ’80s. Bradley listened to what we had to say, but his eyes never left that dress, and when he took the podium at the start of his address the first words out of his mouth were, “We got some fine lookin’ sistahs here tonight.” Bradley, too, is gone now.
Some high-living, high-spirited people who made the once-humble trade of journalism a little brighter, a little more passionate, have passed from this earthly vale, but there are none I’ll miss more than Molly Ivins.
Ivins on guns: “I am not anti-gun. I am pro-knife. Consider the merits of the knife. In the first place, you have to catch up to someone in order to stab him. A general substitution of knives for guns would promote physical fitness. We’d turn into a whole nation of great runners. Plus, knives don’t ricochet. And people are seldom killed while cleaning their knives.”
Ivins on George W. Bush, whom she’s known since high school: “I, for one, object to being lectured to about responsibility by a man who as far as I can tell has never faced it. He partied until he was 40, repeatedly failed in business and had to be bailed out by his daddy’s friends, got elected on his daddy’s name, and is now ducking responsibility for the parts of the Texas record that are clearly his fault, while claiming credit for what he never did.”
What a perfect antidote to this crazy world: a woman who called the Clinton impeachment “the Late Unpleasantness,” got chewed out by New York Times editor in chief Abe Rosenthal for calling an annual New Mexico chicken slaughter a “gang pluck,” and owned a dog named Shit.
Molly Ivins wrote about the joy of the good fight, even when the mood of the country turned toward selfishness. When The Wall Street Journal mocked the poorest fifth of the country as “lucky duckies” because of their cumulative tax rate of 18 percent back in 2003, she pointed out that the richest fifth had a cumulative rate–that is, the agglomeration of income, excise, sales, property, and payroll taxes paid–of only 19 percent, which, under the Bush tax cuts, would drop more each year. These are the people of the conservative freeloader culture, who believe that work should be taxed but wealth should go free, and that they should reap the benefit of all society’s efforts while contributing as little as possible toward its upkeep. Carry on with passion, but laugh during the struggle, she counseled.
You don’t make a lot of dough working at alt-weeklies, but being able to say what you want makes up for it. I would have loved to meet Molly Ivins, to tell her that the first offer I got to have a column picked up by another paper was when I called the soon-to-be chief justice of the Supreme Court an asshole, or about when I wrote a column about Alan Keyes composed mostly of jokes at his expense. I think we could have drank Negra Modelo beer and talked about the merits of zydeco vs. blues. I think we’d have been friends.
I miss her, and yet I never met her. And for that, I’m crying.
Molly Ivins, Our Magnet
James K. Galbraith, HuffPo
02.07.2007
The Texas Observer has published my tribute to Molly Ivins. I won’t repeat it here, except for a small part. The “final Fridays” were a monthly event, held for years at Molly’s house until her health made it impossible to go on.
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“I used to go to the final Fridays late, after the slam poets were done, after the party had quieted down some and mainly the bitter-enders were left, just so I could sit among the butts and bottles like a bad child, and listen to the rowdy tales and feel part of our group - the hard-core liberals in Texas. And just so I could watch her flash that smile, and hear her call me sweetheart now and then.
“Molly was our magnet, our long memory and our cutting edge. She had a fine, sharp pen, but she was at her best, I think, at home, in company, spinning tales, honing her perfect comic pitch, that fine mix of the telling and tawdry that so captured the spirit of Texas.”
Sunday morning after this appeared, I received an email, from a retired professor of English in the very deep South. I paraphrase:
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“Galbraith, what do you mean by that phrase, ’spirit of Texas?’ I stopped reading Ivins when she started to use obscenity. Is that a reflection of the spirit of Texas?”
So I wrote back, a two-line email, quoting the immortal lyrics of Tom Lehrer:
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“As the judge remarked the day that he acquitted my Aunt Hortense, To be smut, it must be utterly without redeeming social importance.”
An email came back: “Truthfully, I do not understand.”
My reply was roughly this:
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“Molly Ivins did not use obscenity. Obscenity is committed by the strong against the weak. Gentility is how the weak are obliged to submit. When you talk back, in whatever language is effective, that’s not obscenity, but courage.
“And by the way, this business of dirty words is culturally specific. Around here, there are no dirty words. And that, of course, is what I meant by ’spirit of Texas.’ “
We sent Molly off Sunday afternoon, at the First United Methodist Church in Austin, Texas, to the strains of Marcia Ball singing “Great Balls of Fire.” Indeed.
Goodbye, Dear Molly — Pots And Pans, Play On!
Molly has died, but the fight goes on
Amy Goodman, AlterNet
February 7, 2007
Molly, I hardly knew ye.
The untimely death of Molly Ivins last week, after a long battle with breast cancer, has provoked a surge of impassioned eulogies — yes, that would be the appropriate use of the term “surge.”
Ivins was first and foremost a journalist, in the highest and best sense of the word. She spent the time, did the digging. She had a remarkable gift for words, a command of English coupled with her flamboyant Texas wit. She directed her reportorial skill at the powerful, holding to account the elected and the self-appointed. She first questioned authority, then skewered it.
I had the good fortune to meet Molly, but on too few occasions. I went to Austin, Texas, for the 50th anniversary celebration of The Texas Observer, the plucky, progressive news magazine that was Molly’s journalistic home for so long. Texas’ former governor, Ann Richards, was there. Richards, a Democrat, was not immune to Molly’s practiced barbs. The governor said of the writer:
“I know it’s been a shock to all of us, but over the last 10 or 15 years our girl Molly Ivins has learned to dress, run a comb through her hair now and then and give a fairly decent speech. A truly remarkable woman who goes around America making speeches and telling lies about me. And I welcome her attentions any time. May God bless this woman who has more survivor blood in her veins than anyone I have ever known.”
Richards preceded Molly in death by cancer by just a few months.
Molly’s legacy rings out, clarion calls to action from the beyond. After she was diagnosed with cancer in 1999, she implored her readers: “Get. The. Damn. Mammogram. Now.” The American Cancer Society predicts that there will be more than 40,000 breast-cancer deaths in the U.S. in 2007. Death rates are declining, although detection and survival rates are lower for women of color. Improvements can be attributed in part to women following Molly’s advice: “Get. The. Damn. Mammogram. Now.”
In her final column, titled “Stand Up Against the Surge,” Molly wrote:
“We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. … We need people in the streets, banging pots and pans and demanding, ‘Stop it, now!’”
Her hallmark was to call it as she saw it, and on Iraq she was clear: “It is not a matter of whether we will lose or we are losing. We have lost.” She took Sen. John McCain to task for supporting the “surge.” The coordinated acts of civil disobedience at his Senate offices in Washington, D.C., and in Arizona on Feb. 5 were a fitting tribute to Molly.
Meanwhile, houston.indymedia.org announced the formation of The Molly Ivins Brigade, to protest the war with pots and pans.
I asked Molly about The Texas Observer. “As we watch the concentration of ownership of mass media,” she said, “it’s more and more important to keep these little independent voices alive. I think that’s where the hope of journalism lies.”
Fighting cancer. Fighting to stop the war. Fighting fiercely to protect independent media institutions like The Texas Observer. Molly, while I hardly knew ye, we know you by your good works. Molly has died, but the fight goes on. She asked that donations be made to the nonprofit Texas Observer, texasobserver.org. In this time of the Clear Channeling of America, it is pennies well spent.
The final performer at The Texas Observer anniversary event was the venerable Willie Nelson, whose sonorous voice and trenchant lyrics have become synonymous with Texas. He sang:
“Fly on, fly on past the speed of sound …
Leave me if you need to
I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground.”
Molly has made her sound in the world. Now it’s up to us to bang those pots and pans.
Molly Ivins, 1944-2007: Legendary Texas Journalist Dies After Long Bout With Breast Cancer
Democracy NOW!
Thursday, February 1st, 2007
The syndicated columnist and best-selling author Molly Ivins has died at the age of 62. She passed away last night in her home in Austin, Texas following a long bout with breast cancer. Her weekly column appeared in over 400 newspapers making her the most widely read progressive columnist in the country. The writer Harvey Wasserman wrote this about Molly Ivins: “If Mark Twain has a female counterpart on today’s political and journalistic scene, it is Molly Ivins. She has that miraculous ability to slice and dice an entire raft of political horse-dung with a single simple sentence, laced with wry, seeded with sweetness, and so often utterly cleansing and clarifying.’
[...]
TRANSCRIPT
JUAN GONZALEZ: The syndicated columnist and bestselling author Molly Ivins has died at the age of 62. She passed away last night in her home in Austin, Texas, following a long bout with breast cancer. Her weekly column appeared in over 400 newspapers, making her the most widely read progressive columnist in the country.
AMY GOODMAN: The writer Harvey Wasserman wrote this about Molly Ivins: “If Mark Twain has a female counterpart on today’s political and journalistic scene, it is Molly Ivins. She has that miraculous ability to slice and dice an entire raft of political horse-dung with a single simple sentence, laced with wry, seeded with sweetness, and so often utterly cleansing and clarifying.”
JUAN GONZALEZ: Molly Ivins began her career in journalism at the complaint department of the Houston Chronicle. In 1970, she became co-editor of the Texas Observer. In 1976, she joined the New York Times, and six years later she returned to Texas to write. In recent years, her work focused on fellow Texan, President Bush. With Lou Dubose, she co-authored the books Shrub: The Short But Happy Political Life of George W. Bush and Bushwhacked: Life in George W. Bush’s America. Both became national bestsellers. Her most recent book was titled Who Let the Dogs In?: Incredible Political Animals I Have Known.
AMY GOODMAN: Molly Ivins was first diagnosed with cancer in 1999. She continued to write, despite her failing health. In a moment, we’ll hear Molly in her own words. But first, we turn to the late Ann Richards, yes, the former governor of Texas, who also died of cancer. I recorded Governor Richards after she was introduced by Molly Ivins at the celebration to mark the 50th anniversary of the Texas Observer.
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ANN RICHARDS: I know it’s been a shock to all of us, but over the last ten or fifteen years our girl Molly Ivins has learned to dress, run a comb through her hair now and then, and give a fairly decent speech. The Observer was never better than when Molly and Kay were writing it. But then, we were all easier to please back then. A truly remarkable woman who goes around America making speeches and telling lies about me. And I welcome her attentions any time. May God bless this woman who has more survivor blood in her veins than anyone I have ever known.
AMY GOODMAN: That is the late Governor Richards. Now we turn to Molly Ivins in her own words. In July 2004, she visited our firehouse studios. I asked her about President Bush and how she has known him since high school.
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MOLLY IVINS: We have been slightly acquainted that long, and I must say — I’ve said a million times — I don’t think he’s mean, and I don’t think he’s stupid. He’s sure not the brightest porch light on the block. He’s pretty limited. But he’s very Texan. Unlike his daddy, who clearly is an upper-class elite Eastern WASP, almost a parody of that pattern. W is very Texas-identified. And you see — I see, when I look at him, some very distinct strengths of Texan culture. One is the religiosity, the public display of piety. Anti-intellectualism, very common in Texas. And it’s anti-intellectualism sort of based on the premise that intellectuals are a bunch of people who use long polysyllabic words and double-dome things to make other people feel inferior. In other words, it’s a form of anti-snobism. And machismo, very Texan. You know, macho man stuff. And the other thing, of course, that’s quite remarkable in Texas is provincialism. Provincialism, I think, is a universal characteristic. New Yorkers are just as provincial as anyone else. But in Texas, it tends to be particularly aggravated, and I think that all of that is true of Bush.
AMY GOODMAN: Your new book is called Who Let the Dogs In?: Incredible Political Animals I Have Known. Can you just start by talking about the cover?
MOLLY IVINS: Isn’t it wonderful? A wonderful artist named Steve Brodner drew all — a whole bunch of politicians as various kinds of dogs, and of course they lend themselves to this with just wonderful elan. There’s John Kerry, this long, droopy hound. I mean it’s really quite wonderful.
AMY GOODMAN: Well, the book is a series of your commentaries, columns over the years.
MOLLY IVINS: Right.
AMY GOODMAN: And going back to the beginning, the reign of Ronald Reagan and big George, you take us also back and remind us who George W. Bush’s father is. I think we have a very different perspective on him right now than when he was actually vice president and then president. Can you talk about the difference between the two, father and son presidents?
MOLLY IVINS: Sure. Well, Poppy and W, of course, both suffer from different forms of the same affliction, which is that they can’t speak English. And Poppy was actually, I have to say, much more fun to take notes on than W. Poppy was just courageous. He would launch himself into a sentence. He would go swim through clause after clause, still no subject, still no predicate. At last, he would come to a period in complete exhaustion. And then we would all sit there trying to figure out what he had said. And we couldn’t figure it out, and neither could he.
Now, the thing about W is, when he misspeaks himself, you usually know what he’s trying to say. Unless he’s having a real bad day, you can tell what he meant to say even if he got some of the words a little bit wrong. They’re very, very funny as a father/son pair. The old man is clearly more at home in the world, a man of wider perspective and vision. W, again, is the little more narrow, little more — the Texas provincialism keeps showing. Always reminds me of every guy I’ve ever had dinner with at the Midland Petroleum Club. You know, you come away saying, “Gosh, what a swell bunch of fellows! Thank God they’re not running the world.”
AMY GOODMAN: Our guest is Molly Ivins. George W. Bush, you write, has always had a mentor in his different worlds and spheres.
MOLLY IVINS: Yeah. He had a couple in the oil business. He had Richard Rainwater in finance and baseball, a big money guy out of Fort Worth. The late Bob Bullock, our lieutenant governor, was his mentor in Texas government. And it’s clear that Dick Cheney plays that role in Washington for W, the sort of mentor father figure.
AMY GOODMAN: More important than his father?
MOLLY IVINS: Oh, very definitely. I think so. Yeah.
AMY GOODMAN: Can you talk about his relationship with Cheney, his relationship, and who is Karl Rove?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, now, I’m not a Washington reporter. I intensely covered Bush when he was governor of Texas, but I am not one to give you the inside, the White House poop, because I don’t have any. The relationship to Rove, I can speak to. I think there’s a mistaken idea that it’s like puppet and puppetmaster. Actually, I think they’re more like twins. I think it’s a really good team. Rove, of course, is an exceptionally good, exceptionally skillful campaign guy, and Bush, himself, W Bush, is really gifted at the political end of politics. He’s always being, as he says, “misunderestimated.” He really is interested in and good at the political end of politics.
Where you run into problems with W is that policy just bores the heck out of him. He’s just not interested. He doesn’t like to read about it. He doesn’t like to hear about it. He doesn’t like to go to long meetings. He doesn’t like to read memos. It bores him. And I’m not quite sure why you would go into government if you weren’t interested in it, but there it is. Politics, however, is — and that’s not that unusual, by the way. I want to point out, there are a lot of politicians who enjoy the political end of politics, but they’re not interested in governance. And then, there are some that are really interested in governance and are just terrible at politics.
AMY GOODMAN: George W. Bush, what is his talent, do you think?
MOLLY IVINS: Politics. He’s good at the political end of politics.
AMY GOODMAN: And what did he do for his father before he, himself, became president?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, he was his daddy’s campaign enforcer. In the ‘88 and ‘92 campaigns, he was the guy who, you know, kept everybody in line. It’s a little — I mean, you get different takes on Bush at different points in his life. There’s always been a little bit of an extent to which he struck people as a jerk. I mean, you know, he would come through the White House when his daddy was president and stab at people, “Work harder! Work harder!” And, I mean, these were people who were already working fourteen hours a day.
AMY GOODMAN: We’re talking to Molly Ivins. Her latest book is called Who Let the Dogs In?: Incredible Political Animals I Have Known. Well, what do you think has driven George W. Bush, once he became president, drove him to invade Iraq? What does he gain from that?
MOLLY IVINS: I think very early on, this was not — I mean, look, no matter whether you like George W. or not, the last thing in the world you would have wished on this poor guy was a major foreign policy crisis in his first year. To say foreign policy was not his forte is to put it mildly. And consequently, he was, to an unusual degree for president, simply dependent on others. And I think what happened very early on, possibly even before he took the oath, is that he was sort of captured by the neoconservative group: Dick Cheney, Don Rumsfeld, Richard Perle, Paul Wolfowitz — that is, a whole sort of noticeable group there in Washington. And they have wanted to invade Iraq for a long time. It was just real high on their list, and all this was well before September 11th.
AMY GOODMAN: And why did they have more his ear than his own father, who, while he bombed Iraq, led the Persian Gulf War, when there was the opportunity to take out Saddam Hussein, he sided with Saddam Hussein and he pulled the troops out?
MOLLY IVINS: If you read Poppy Bush’s memoir, the passage where he explains why he did not go into Baghdad after Saddam Hussein is just eerily prescient. It’s just amazing to read now. It’s exactly why we shouldn’t have done this. And Poppy had it back then.
AMY GOODMAN: What did he say?
MOLLY IVINS: Oh, for all the reasons you can see. I mean, short easy war, followed by the peace from hell. You’re going to wind up with a hideous waste of a war, and you’re going to leave the American military there like stake posts in the deserts for every terrorist in the Middle East to come after.
AMY GOODMAN: What about this comment that you made, that if anything is going to be resolved in the Middle East, it has to be — you have to begin by resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, I’m no expert on the Middle East. Good Lord, I’m a Texas political reporter, but how bright do you have to be to see that? That is the origin of the entire — not the entire mess — the entire resentment over there is the Israeli-Palestinian situation. And I am convinced that it’s solvable. It is doable. Bill Clinton came within half an inch of getting them drug to a solution.
[...] [break]
AMY GOODMAN: We return to Molly Ivins, in her own words. In July 2004, she visited our firehouse studios. I asked her to talk about her bestselling book, Shrub: The Short But Happy Political Life of George W. Bush.
MOLLY IVINS: Well, Shrub was pretty much a straight political account of George W’s record as governor of Texas. When I started as a political reporter, you were told that there were three rules. One was to look at the record. Two was to look at the record. And three was to look at the record. And then you would see how the fellow would do in the next stage of public life. And I must say, I think it’s a dandy rule. Lou Dubose and I are probably the only people in America who weren’t surprised by George W. Bush as president. Now, the one area, of course, in which there was no track record was foreign policy.
AMY GOODMAN: It’s interesting, because Bush just made the comment about John Edwards, about his inexperience.
MOLLY IVINS: Oh, well, of course, Bush had no experience at all, when he started as president, in foreign policy. And the amusing contention, even that he was fluent in Spanish, always sent Lou and I into convulsions. We’d go down in the valley, every time he speaks the same two sentences, and then they cue the mariachis. I was a little surprised that he started governing so hard from the right, given the controversy over the election, given that there was still some question about the legitimacy of his presidency. But it is very clear that they just decided to go for broke from the beginning. And September 11th, a terrible tragedy, and I certainly don’t hold him responsible, but it does seem to me that they used that for their own purposes in invading Iraq, which they wanted to do anyway.
AMY GOODMAN: In one of your most recent columns, you write, “Recently on PBS’s NOW with Bill Moyers, there was a long interview with Frank Luntz, the Republican pollster and message-meister. Luntz recently advised Republicans to explain ‘the policy of pre-emption and the war in Iraq’ by recommending that ‘no speech about…Iraq should begin without a reference to 9-11.’”
MOLLY IVINS: Well that’s it. You keep making that connection, and that’s why something like 70% of the American people thought, when we went into Iraq, that Saddam Hussein was directly linked to 9/11. And the Bush people just made that connection over and over and over and over and over. And it’s phony. I mean, it’s just not there. The interesting thing to me about politics these days — and that Luntz piece reminds me of it — he was explaining how, for example, a Republican candidate would deal with working women. Now, you’re going to be amazed, Amy. But by dint of a shrewd professional questioning in focus groups, Frank Luntz determined that what working mothers need most is more time in their lives. We were all so astonished to hear this. And so, what he suggests is the Republican candidates say to a group, you know, when he’s campaigning, “Now, I’ll bet I know what it is you ladies need most. I bet — I think you need more free time.” And the ladies will nod, and they’ll raise their hands and agree, and you’ve bonded with them, and you’ve shown empathy toward their major problem in life.
Well, yeah, you’ve shown empathy toward their major problem in life, but look at the record. The record is, you cut programs to early childhood education, you cut Head Start, you cut after school, you cut K-12, you cut housing vouchers. You’re going to change your overtime. They have done everything they can to make this poor woman’s life more harried and frantic than ever. That’s the record. But what we call politics now and what most political writers write about is the empathy and the bonding and the word choice and the horse rights, and it has nothing to do with what’s really happening to people’s lives.
AMY GOODMAN: Speaking of the record, we have just heard about the records of George W. Bush, when it comes to his military service, were mistakenly destroyed.
MOLLY IVINS: Oh, I feel so bad for George W. Bush about that. You know, he could have conclusively proved to everybody’s satisfaction that he had finished out his time in the Air National Guard without any question at all. And darn if the records haven’t been destroyed. I know he’s upset. I know he’s upset.
AMY GOODMAN: How does that happen in Texas?
MOLLY IVINS: Darn, I just don’t know. Actually, they were Pentagon records. And I want to point out in concerning the unit of the Texas Air National Guard in which our president served during the war in Vietnam: first of all, Texas was not attacked by the Viet Cong during the entire time; second of all, there’s some, you know, by legend, OK, they called it the “Champagne Unit,” and it was full of the sons of rich and important guys, and all that. There were black members of that unit. Now, they all happened to play football for the Dallas Cowboys, but there you are.
AMY GOODMAN: In your book, Shrub: The Short But Happy Political Life of George W. Bush, you talk about Harken, where he really made his mark, whichever way, in the oil world, as being a mini-Enron.
MOLLY IVINS: Yeah. Little tiny Enron. All the same deals. All the same insider selling on information, all the same insider trading, where they’d flip — you know, they would loan money to themselves to buy an asset to make it look better on the books. It was cute.
AMY GOODMAN: As we travel around the country in this Exception to the Rulers tour, honoring media — radio, television, independent bookstores, newspapers that are independent — you hail from the Texas Observer.
MOLLY IVINS: Indeed, I do. And so does Lou Dubose, and so do a number of other fairly distinguished journalists, actually. We’re not, by any means, the best of the bunch. The Texas Observer is a small progressive magazine that is fifty years old this year, and for fifty years, on practically no money at all, it has been raising hell and kicking butt down in Texas. And it is living proof that you don’t need a lot of money and you don’t need a lot of horses. What journalists mostly need to do is get up off their butts and go out and do it. And I am so proud to be associated with the Observer, and I am more and more convinced, as you all are, in the organizations you honor, that as we watch the concentration of ownership of mass media, it’s more and more important to keep these little independent voices alive. I think that’s where the hope of journalism lies.
AMY GOODMAN: And what do you think of the major corporate news corps these days, whether the networks or the print papers?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, as always, I am optimistic to the point of idiocy. And I think the internet, the technology of the internet, may yet break up this entire pattern of concentration.
AMY GOODMAN: How?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, the internet is really interesting in terms of — and I’m not an expert in this field, so these are ideas I’ve borrowed from other people — if you have, for example, the New York Times, there’s New York Times up here. It’s a source of authority. It goes down to reader, reader, reader. CBS goes down to viewer, viewer, viewer. The internet goes doot-doot-doot — it goes sideways. There’s nothing hierarchical about it. And the best thing about it is also the worst thing about it, which is there are no gatekeepers on the internet. Consequently, there’s a whole lot of bad information on the internet. But I think that sorts itself out over time.
AMY GOODMAN: Molly Ivins, you wrote in a posting on June 10th, “When, in the future, you find yourself wondering, ‘Whatever happened to the Constitution?’ you will want to go back and look at June 8, 2004. That was the day the attorney general of the United States — a.k.a. ‘the nation’s top law enforcement officer’ — refused to provide the Senate Judiciary Committee with his department’s memos concerning torture.” Take it from there.
MOLLY IVINS: He not only refused to produce his department’s memos concerning torture — what a great moment in our country’s history this is — but refused to give them any reason why he should or shouldn’t. It was the old middle-finger explanation. And the whole question of people high in government, sitting there solemn — and many of them lawyers — solemnly discussing whether or not torture is justified, strikes me as surreal to the point of being almost insane. You know, there’s been a lot of experience with torture in history, Amy. It doesn’t work.
AMY GOODMAN: We’re talking to Molly Ivins. She has written many books and many more columns, hundreds and hundreds of them. Her latest book is called Who Let the Dogs In?: Incredible Political Animals I have Known. As you do your writing, as you observe Texas politics gone national — actually, gone global — you had some pretty good predictions a year ago, before the invasion, about what would happen. What about today?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, you can’t win any popularity contests by sitting around saying, “I told you so!”
AMY GOODMAN: But what about today, looking forward?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, I am much too smart to call a political race this far out, and I think anybody who does is a nincompoop. You see all these people on television, these pundits who make big money confidently predicting the outcome of a close race that’s months way. I think they’re fools. Always optimistic to point of idiocy, I think Bush is beatable. I’m not saying he will be beaten, but I think he’s beatable. And I also think it’s — boy, do you talk about a safe position — it’s an event-driven election. It’s going to — the outcome will depend on events, on whether or not Iraq continues to unwind, on whether the economy gets better or worse, if, God forbid, there’s a terrorist attack. I think all of that is the outcome.
AMY GOODMAN: John Kerry, John Edwards, your thoughts?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, of course, John Kerry is a boring stiff. He’s a boring stiff with intelligence. He’s a boring stiff with gravitas. He’s a boring stiff with experience. But he’s still a boring stiff. And adding Edwards to the campaign might have actually made him look stiffer. But I think it’s had the opposite effect. In fact, it’s kind of loosened him up. I’d like to point out that John Kerry has made two jokes in the last week. Now, they were little jokes, but they were still jokes.
AMY GOODMAN: You’ve said, you know, Hillary Clinton’s comment that there’s a vast rightwing conspiracy out there, that you actually disagree.
MOLLY IVINS: Totally disagree. There is no conspiracy about it. There’s nothing hidden. It’s all right out there in the open. It always has been. For thirty years now, a bunch of rightwing money has funded think tanks and subsidized publications and intellectuals to sit around and tell us how bad government is. These are the kind of people who always hated taxes, always hated government — same old same-old. And, you know, you look again and again, and you find those same foundations behind one effort after another. And, of course, it has a cumulative effect. I mean, most people think government could screw up a two-car funeral.
AMY GOODMAN: Molly Ivins, on the issue of the media, I wanted to play a clip for you of a news conference yesterday that took place, which is now introducing a film that is coming out this week around the country, a new documentary by filmmaker Robert Greenwald called Outfoxed, which criticizes Rupert Murdoch’s FOX News Channel. They held a news conference, and this is a former CIA operative named Larry Johnson, former FOX News contributor, talking about FOX’s access to the Pentagon. And then I’d like to get your comment.
LARRY JOHNSON: To this day, the Department of Defense — Don Rumsfeld, Paul Wolfowitz — hold regular meetings with the military talking heads, the guys you see that go on FOX, on MSNBC, on CNN. At these meetings, a significant percentage — the most represented network at those meetings is FOX News: the military analysts like Paul Vallely, Tom Mclnerney, and others. And what happens at those meetings is talking points are passed out, recommended points that the military talking heads should make. And if you go back and look at the buildup to war, particularly the messages that Generals Mclerney and General Vallely were presenting, it was consistent with the talking points that they were getting over at Department of Defense. Folks, that’s manipulation of the news.
AMY GOODMAN: That is Larry Johnson, former CIA operative and former FOX News contributor, talking about FOX’s access to the Pentagon. Molly Ivins?
MOLLY IVINS: Well, of course, it is manipulation of the news. And I must say, Amy, and I hate to sound like a Texan, but the first newspaper Murdoch ever bought in this country was the San Antonio Express, and he took it into the gutter, and, interestingly enough, he took its competition into the gutter with him.
Newspaper competition, which practically doesn’t exist at all anywhere anymore, is kind of like poker. You can both go high, you can both go low, or you can split the pot. And I think what Murdoch brought to this country was a British sensibility of, there’s the quality press and then there’s the tabloids, and it’s the, you know, tabloid trash. And we didn’t — that’s really not much of a native American tradition.
Our tradition of the popular press actually comes from the two-penny papers of the turn of the century, and if you go back and look at them, there’s an extraordinary tradition underneath the masthead — you know, “the daily jump up and hallelujah” — there’ll be some slogan like, “with the people, against the bosses,” “with the masses, against the tyrants.” I mean, you know, there’s these sort of fighting word kind of stuff. And you’ll go, “This was a major daily newspaper, taking sides like that?” Well, the whole idea of the popular press in this country was that it stood for the average Joe, Joe Sixpack.
And what Murdoch introduced into this country was the always-effective British combination, which is where you marry T&A — sex, page-three girls or whatever they’re called in Britain, a lot of bosomy bathing beauties — with patriotism, jingoism, flag waving. And it’s a very effective combination. And he’s introduced it here beautifully, and it’s taken hold particularly on television.
AMY GOODMAN: We only have a few seconds left. What advice would you give to young reporters or people who are thinking about going into journalism? Should they bother?
MOLLY IVINS: Oh, absolutely. Get in there and raise hell, people.
AMY GOODMAN: Molly Ivins, speaking on Democracy Now! in July of 2004. She died last night at the age of 62.
JUAN GONZALEZ: President Bush said in a statement, “Molly Ivins was a Texas original. I respected her convictions, her passionate belief in the power of words, and her ability to turn a phrase. She fought her illness with that same passion. Her quick wit and commitment to her beliefs will be missed. Laura and I send our condolences to Molly Ivins’s family and friends.”
AMY GOODMAN: But we will end with Molly’s own words. In her final column, Molly Ivins wrote, “We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell… We need people in the streets, banging pots and pans and demanding, ‘Stop it, now!’” Molly Ivins, she died last night in Austin, Texas. She was 62 years old.
Cow Whisperers Against the War
Molly Ivins, TruthDig
Aug 28, 2006
AUSTIN, Texas—I know it’s bad form to brag, but I am now a graduate of Texas A&M University, and you can’t stop Aggie pride. I became a diplomee of the great institution in College Station after successfully completing the three-day short course in beef cattle this summer. I specialized in forage management and graduated “Quel fromage!,” meaning “avec distinction.” It is also true that I was banned from the campus of Texas A&M many years ago after some students invited me to make a political speech. Also Quel fromage! So you see how far we all have come.
The most amazing part of cow college was meeting the cow whisperer. Think of everything you know about moving cattle from one place to another—for shots, roundup or loading into trucks for market—just physically moving a lot of cattle. GEE, GIT ON, GO DOGIE, whistle, whip crack, move ‘em out, chase ‘em down. Turns out all these years we’ve been doing it wrong.
What happens when you scare a cow by making a lot of noise and chasing it down and forcing it to move where it doesn’t want to go is the cow responds by relieving itself.
And since a cow has three stomachs, it can unload up to 20% of its total weight at one go, the last thing you want just before you take it to market to sell.
So the latest thing in cattle handling is cow whispering (I’m not making this up—this is straight from A&M). Either on foot or horseback, you just kind of sidle around your herd without upsetting them, talk to them gently and suggest they might like to go that way for a while, and then perhaps a tour along the pen line, and then perhaps some consideration of the gate and another little tour of the pen line. But all of this is done without loud noise, sudden movements or eruptions of testosterone. It’s such a revolutionary development of an American macho tradition it’s a little like watching NFL teams come onto the field in tutus. But it also works a lot better on the cows.
I bring this up because I recently attended a women’s peace movement meeting, sponsored by the Code Pink group, founded by Medea Benjamin, Jodie Evans and Diane Wilson. (Ha, now you think you see where I am going.) The women peacemakers also included Cindy Sheehan, writer Anne Lamott and Col. Ann Wright, who served 29 years in the Army and more than 15 years in the Foreign Service, before resigning in protest over Bush’s drive to war in Iraq.
I must say, they were a lot more emphatic than the cow whisperer. In fact, as I left, they were saddling up to ride down to President Bush at his ranch with a people’s posse peace warrant. Lots of whooping about it.
Women peace activists, as rule, have totally solved the gnarly old dilemma: What do you do about hating the haters? If you’re a woman peace activist, this is Step 101—you spill love and calm and reassurance and, well, peace all over them. (Which is why it’s especially funny that George Bush is so afraid of Cindy Sheehan.)
For those of us who have not mastered this advanced technique, a Revolution in Favor of Kindness and Libraries seems like a nice idea. Anne Lamott, one of the funniest people in America, has developed a scenario for a Revolution With Good Manners, in which we are all extremely nice to one another. Good manners never hurt anything. “Our Revolution decrees that we will fight tooth and nail for these things, politely.”
I am still lamentably stuck in the middle—not that I hold with hating the haters … we can all see where that leads—but I am always tempted to shout them down. “One, Two Three, Four: We Don’t Want Your F-ing War.” Now does that repel more potential supporters or attract more people who really need to sound off?
What I learned from Code Pink is that this is not an either-or question. The peace movement is a matter of And and And and And. You just keep adding more people, from those like Sheehan, who lost her son Casey in the stupid debacle, to the Iraqi Veterans Against the War, easily the strongest, most moving group of young people in America.
They have learned in the hardest way what politics is.
War is about rounding up people with Shock and Awe and really loud noises, and about thinking you can herd them by hurting and killing them. Politics is what you do if you’re not so stupid you walk into an unnecessary and unprovoked war. I’m founding Cow Whisperers Against the War.
“So keep fightin’ for freedom and justice, beloveds, but don’t you forget to have fun doin’ it. Lord, let your laughter ring forth. Be outrageous, ridicule the fraidy-cats, rejoice in all the oddities that freedom can produce. And when you get through kickin’ ass and celebratin’ the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell those who come after how much fun it was.”
~ Molly Ivins, 1944 - 2007
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