Driving To Alaska’s Political Madness

My parents first came to Alaska in the ’60s, driving a red and white Volkswagen bus. They came from Virginia and like so many Alaskans, they came for one year – that was almost 50 years ago and they never left.

I’m happy to report I’m making the trip they did, though by a more northerly route.

It’s a bit of a shock to my Alaskan mind to drive through four states in a day without going through a foreign country. There is so much to take in on open road and border crossings. You can drive for days on a corn corridor. Many great barns and silos to see.

In line at the Rainbow Bridge crossing to see Niagara Falls, a man saw my Alaska license plate and craned his head out of his car with a smile on his face. “Did you just leave this morning?” he asked.

Dropping down into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, after seeing just how great the north side of the Great Lakes are, brought campgrounds, tiny towns and diners where people still hold hands to pray before a gravy-boated breakfast.

Bait shops guarantee good fishing, but don’t promise catching. An old man towing a canoe with his bike had the proper red flag attached to the stern. An elderly waitress wore a swim cap. It seemed normal. The flowers on it matched her lipstick.

Tomatoes bought at the side of the road taste like something other than red Crayola. Figs are in season. They are lovely with honey. Most places have a historical claim to fame – even if most of their residents don’t seem to know what it is.

So, there’s a lot of time to think while taking in this narrow band of North America. I suppose it’s the same amount of time you have any other day, but the chance to follow one’s thoughts down a rabbit hole just somehow comes easier.

Rest stop Wi-Fi is a welcome curse while refueling. WHAT? Why did I read my email? Now I’m stuck in that hamster wheel of a rant for the next 200 miles!
There is no “off” on the crazy switch of Alaska politics, and even with a few thousand more miles to drive to reach home, the crazy catches up. So here are a few thoughts that took my mind away from estimating the distance to Mount Rushmore and wondering about the life expectancy of donkeys.

First, our U.S. Senate race is as jacked-up as it was in 2010. It’s the most boring group of candidates ever, yet with the most drama of any race. Sen. Lisa Murkowski, after teaching everyone how to write in her name, goes by Lisa on her signage.

I guess she doesn’t feel she needs you crossovers anymore. And you may have noticed that’s how she votes theses days: no crossover. She’s 100 percent Republican orthodoxy, and that includes anti-Native and anti-women.

Lyin’ Joe Miller decided to bring his red hot crazy sauce to the race. I’m happy to see it. Remarkably, Lyin’ Joe actually seems more honest than Lisa. At least he doesn’t pretend he’s something he’s not. Contender Margaret Stock is a brilliant unknown. And Ray Metcalfe is a little too known.

So, here’s a known who could win a write-in race: Mark Begich. Just do it, voters. He’s sane AND honest. He’s qualified and can raise money. And thanks to Lisa, writing in is not something we have to explain. There is no better choice.

Secondly, this should serve as notice to Alaskans who would invite me to a Hillary Clinton fundraiser: Just Don’t. I want to make America Grate Again!

Just kidding. This has nothing to do with Trump.

I’m out here in America and it seems pretty great right now to me. Alaskans don’t need to get all wrapped around an axle over the presidential race. Our polls will be open for hours still when the presidency is called.

Hillary takes plenty of money from corporations or, as our U.S. Supreme Court likes to call them, “people.” Your $5 or $50 or $500 won’t put a dent in the fuel bill for her private plane. How about this? Every time Donald Trump does or says something stupid, you send $5 or $10 or more to an Alaska candidate running against someone who supports Trump. I know, that’s a lot of money, but it’s the best way for you to beat the orange clown.

The best hope for Alaska’s future is to support a bipartisan coalition in both the House and Senate. That means getting rid of the Republican leaders so determined to block the solutions our state desperately needs. And that means voting against just about every Republican legislative incumbent. Your campaign donations and volunteering will go much farther toward responsible governance than anything you can hope to do to in the presidential race — except cast your ballot.

I’m scratching “drive home from the other side of the country” off my bucket list. Truth be told, I’m already thinking about what else the open road may have to show me. That is when I’m not ranting to deer and skunks about Princess Lisa and Checkbook Hillary.

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