Things aren’t looking good for beautious State Rep. Melanie George Marshall. Certain individuals, namely my favorite local activist, Liz Allen, are convinced that innuendo concerning a leaked email to the heads of the Delaware Psychiatric Facility MUST have come from Rep. Marshall. Liz sent out a scathing email this morning to a list of state legislators and bloggers alike. Printed below is her email calling for Rep. Marshall to immediately resign:
We the people of Delaware need to launch a campaign against Melanie Marshall who has “leaked” information she obtained in hearings on the horrors at Delaware Psychiatric Center. This woman must resign immediately as she has no credibility and has proven herself incapable of protecting the citizens who are warehoused at DPC.
Ms Marshall has Obstructed Justice, where is the Attorney General? Where is the Disability Law Program, Where is Protection and Advocacy…all responsible for the health and safety of these human beings?
As there are federal funds involved here, her leaking information to DPC, could be considered a federal offense.
Any legislator sitting on that Committee and the public should immediately call for her resignation. She cannot be trusted. She is nothing but a perverted democrat who thinks that “limiting the states liability in cases of abuse”, is her responsibility!! This woman has done an injustice not only to the residents at DPC, but has taken any credibility or accountability away from those representatives attempting to find and correct the problems that are decades old at DPC.’
Ms. Marshall you are a despicable human being. You couldn’t care less about the most vulnerable citizens in our state who through no fault of their own, find themselves mentally disabled.
You, must resign immediately. We the citizens will remember very well what you did in this case, and your re-election to any public office will be in jeopardy.
Oddly enough, Sen. John Still has gotten in on the action by replying all:
perhaps it was a staffer for the House? and not Rep. George?…don’t jump to any conclusions too fast…
John Still
State Senator
Note: Sen. Still’s poor capitalization has been unretouched.
This is certainly intriguing. I’ve emailed Rep. Marshall personally. She has stood by her claim that she is not the one who emailed DPC associates alerting them to the time and date of the off-the-record hearings with former and current DPC employees who’ve wished to remain anonymous. I can’t imagine Rep. Marshall would commit career suicide by A) leaking the email and then B) lying about her participation in said leak.
I’d love to post the whole damn thing, but that would likely detract you from visiting Mat Marshall’s excellent blog, The Soapbox. Click here to read his thorough rundown of Saturday’s Democrat Jamboree in Sussex County. His coverage puts Celia Cohen’s kiss to the power-hungry report to shame! My favorite is when Marshall tackles Sen. Tom Carper, Delaware’s most atrocious Democrat. I’m sure this blurb would make Dana Garrett proud!
Tom Carper is a horrible public speaker. Let’s address his charisma first. The man was wearing a shirt that I’m sure he borrowed from Waldo. His characteristic hunch and weathered face reminded me of a slightly malnourished Igor. He mutters in a deadpan, monotonous voice. And while he managed to stay on topic this time, he almost never does (example: “You know, I remember when I was running for governor……………… I was driving by Best Buy yesterday…”). As far as the actual content, I was infuriated by the whole thing. I swear to God, Tom Carper radiates a schmuckiness that belongs nowhere near the Democratic Party. Not only did he bitch and moan about primaries with Jack Markell, John Carney, Matt Denn and Ted Blunt RIGHT THERE, he brought the two gubernatorial candidates up on the stage to say that. Honestly, Tom, what’s the problem with the primary? Does it go against your backroom deal with Carney, or is it just too much democracy for you?
If the Democratic Party of Delaware allows guys like Marshall to guide the party, I see good things in their future.
I’ve heard from multiple sources that John Carney made a really dumb comment at the Democrat Jamboree on Saturday. I hear he views Gov. Ruth Ann Minner as a source of leadership inspiration in his campaign for Delaware’s highest elected office. I’d hate to hear who he views as an absolute failure when it comes to leadership.
I realize Chavez is hugely popular, though I disagree with some of his tactics. I suppose if a clear majority of citizens continue to put him into office then that’s their right, but Chavez has always seemed like he’d make a pretty good tyrant if given the power. And it seems like the government could be his for the taking in the future.
Posted by Mike Matthews in Common Sense at 9:23 PM PDT
Should Jack Markell become Delaware’s next governor, I have a good idea who would be personal chef to the state’s most powerful leader: Pete Schaeffer of Dover. Don’t know Pete? Well, you should. If only for the pizza. My God…the pizza! Pete threw a splendid party for Jack Markell on Thursday and a crowd nearing 100 joined him on his awesome plantation-like plot of land in East Dover. It wasn’t a fundraiser, though I did see lots of checkbooks and pens coming from the various purses and pockets of the visitors who came to see the Mr. Markell himself.
At right: Look at that beastly oven!!
But, as Jack said, this night wasn’t about him; it was all about the pizza. And, looking at the humongous wood-burning brick oven in Pete’s backyard, I knew it was going to be good. My first slice was plain cheese. The crust, lightly darkened from the smoky fire, was crispy and the tomato sauce both salty and sweet at the same time. The cheese was ooey-gooey good.
Of course, having our state treasurer and my favored candidate for governor among the crowd helps as well. Especially when said favored candidate doesn’t brush me away like the rest of the self-important politicos in Delaware’s General Assembly do whenever I approach them to ask them tough and intriguing questions (you miscreants know who you are!).
Naturally, though, the bloggers stick together. My man Jason from DelawareLiberal showed up for the pizza. So did the Cahills. Yes, those Cahills of Smyrna/Mark Schaeffer fame. I took particularly well to Julie Cahill, who I think has forgiven me for comically referring to their actions as white trash-ish in the past in their Hatfield/McCoy-like battle against the former Smyrna mayor.
At left: Chef Pete Schaeffer and State Treasurer Jack Markell
At some point Jack Markell delivered the speech we all knew was coming. The “We Can Do Better” speech. And, boy is he right, though I must say I would have enjoyed it more if Markell had come out and named names. I suppose that would involve criticizing his Democratic brethren and would be a no-no…for now, anyway!
In between discussions about Markell’s Facing Forward (which, at first, I jokingly referred to as “Falling Forward,” though it seemed to go over Jack’s head) report and blog-speak with Jason, I had several MORE pieces of pizza. Pepperoni and sausage were delicious, though I’m regretting not having the good timing to have gotten a slice with either green pepper or onion.
No matter, my belly was fed and my brain sufficiently exercised. It was time to go and I had to make a decision. Step up to the plate, take a bumper sticker, tag my car with that baby…or, just sit back and keep my mouth shut. Yes, I did it. For the very first time I’ve decided to tag my wreck with a piece of political material. I’ve got the photographic proof! Jack doesn’t know I’ve tagged my car, but I’m sure he’s proud to know Delaware’s second-hottest blogger (after Donviti, of course!) has decided to finally take the opportunity to make the leap into certified-supporter status. Either that or I’ve finally realized the value of my car can no longer depreciate because of said sticky propaganda.
Go Jack!
On some Friday nights I have little to do but troll the web and check on some of my favorite musical artists to see what they’re up to. Tonight is one of those Fridays. And my man Joe Henry, who hasn’t released an album of originals in four years, was just the artist I was snooping upon. I found myself as giddy as a schoolgirl when I read the news that Mr. Henry has a new album coming out on Sept. 11. Kanye vs. 50 Cent? Forget that shit! After all the moments of silence and headbows on 9/11 I’ll be heading to the record store to buy Henry’s “Civilians.”
And, because I know you’re all so interested, allow me to regale you with this tale as featured in the liner notes of Henry’s latest album. Witty stuff, if you ask me:
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen; friends; esteemed colleagues…Madam Speaker. Aware as I am that some of you are updating your files, allow me to share a few descriptive notes that I hope you may find relevant to the business at hand. Let the record show, please, that I arrived here promptly, under my own steam, and that I formally declare the handcuffs to be excessive.
As I appear before you, I have just turned 46 years old. I remain 5’9” tall and hold steady at 146 pounds. My hair is wavy, but only at my express direction. My eyes are brown or green depending on the light, and I sometimes appear to have a slight limp, if remembering a fall I took in London two years ago October. I am Sagittarian; a Southerner by birth, and Midwestern by transplant; a loyal spouse and the well-meaning but jittery father of two. I live on the fringe of Los Angeles, right where it begins its slide into the San Gabriel Valley, and in a house built in 1904 for a First Lady of these United States of I’m Sorry; and I do so with my loving family who tolerate all manner of racket and laughter issuing from the basement under the guise of serious work being done. I am experimenting with drinking smaller amounts of much stronger coffee; and during fits of insomnia (which I swear has nothing to do with drinking smaller amounts of much stronger coffee) I have contemplated opera, dog training, motorcycles, patriotism, corruption, metallurgy, Perez Prado, the coming revolution, insurance, God, baseball, Skip James and the prospect of making my own gin in a tub behind the garage. “How tough could it be?” I have asked the dark ceiling. “Would I need a permit if not intended for retail?”
That may be all any of you has a right to know. But I am, alas, a simple man, and my life is an open book, even if some passages have been obscured for security purposes. Freedom isn’t free, after all, and neither is that tiny microphone inside the saltshaker. But tell the truth: don’t you just feel safer knowing it’s there? I know I do. Where was I?
Oh yes: Five feet, nine inches tall. And wavy hair, sort of. Not sleeping, and thinking of baseball, ombudsmen and gin. (Am I going too fast?) I wasn’t born in this town, but I’ve taken to it like a stenographer to a presumed-dead surprise witness, both played by Gene Hackman in a career-capping dual role. Los Angeles serves me, and I stand ready to serve it -in the case of emergency and if/when The Perez Prado Story ever goes into production. My proximity to the city allows quick access to legal aid, fine dining, my favorite drummer and, if need be, antique prosthetic limbs and period fire engines, which can be rented by the day or week and delivered to location.
And location is everything. I can now literally climb out of bed and fall straight into the basement of what is known on the historic registry as The Garfield House without so much as my goggles on and be…At Work. I raise a flag out in the front yard that says, “Hiring!” and wait for people to show; and show they do. One week in particular, just after New Year, I crawled out of the furnace room (squirrels again) and found I had a full house, ready and willing to tackle any song I had, no matter what the key or time signature. They just really know how to listen, is the thing. They know by the look in my eye that I’m not much on talk, and deplore options. But what I want is obvious to a blind man, which is why I work in my own cellar with the curtains drawn. What some of us feel called to do with our time has come to be considered providing aid and comfort to the enemy, I understand; and ours is a nation that takes its enemies very seriously, its comfort more so.
But we were talking about music. Loose lips, desperation and convenient morality might make for tense dinner conversation, but put them in waltz time and even the young people lay down their assault rifles and start crowding up next to the stage. The songs making up this particular collection came in fits and starts: a handful quite some time ago; but the majority arrived in a cluster in the late fall. I did what anybody would do, stomping them down and skimming off their juices for bottling. Then, once they’d sat around just long enough (timing is everything), I called in a few close friends with no high concept to guide us other than the time-tested one of our ancestors: twist and pull, breathe and pour. It was important to me that I not let any idea get bigger than the songs themselves. My work is akin to shoveling out a fireplace: If I do it well, the next fire will have more air to breathe. And the fire next time is always the thing. Speaking of which… I have noticed with surprise -and only in retrospect- how often God is mentioned throughout this 12-song cycle, and He must be surprised as well. I recognize in His many appearances, though, not the god of my Methodist raising, who sat judging tennis balls “in” or “out” from high on a perch; but one among us, who stretches like the net itself, wholly visible and there but to frame the attempt. (To me, this is the God of Shakespeare, Wilde, Moliere, and Buster Keaton, and could easily be played by Gene Hackman, if he wasn’t otherwise so occupied.)
I’ve already mentioned the widow Garfield in passing and it is important that she be acknowledged now that I reside and work in the house built for her –the house in which she died, and where her funeral was staged; I need to stay on good terms with her ghostly countenance. She has, to date, been patient and supportive and seems to prefer the lights low, as I do. Like a feral animal that marks its turf, Lucretia (or “Crete” as The President called her) has made her presence known in subtle but noticeable ways on a few occasions. On my first day under her roof, she did, for instance, insist that my stereo play only in mono, no matter how I wired it; but once I conceded that both my engineer and I were powerless to affect any change, she relented and the sonic picture snapped back to full “360-Sound,” like The Wizard of Oz going from black-and-white to Technicolor. Her ghost also appears to prefer that my guests drink rye instead of bourbon, because once I made the switch a matter of house policy, everything seemed to shift for the better. (I might even go so far as to suggest that Mrs. Garfield quite likes to hear the piano played, and may have had something to do with the delivery of Mr. Van Dyke Parks into our midst. He too seems to float a bit, and has not the slightest aversion to America’s oldest whiskey.) It may be worth noting here as well that I’ve had to promise the historical society that a pump organ would be installed, whether it was recorded or not, and I have taken no chances: you can hear it throughout this collection, which I hope will guarantee some good will on the part of that august chamber when it comes time to build the rotunda and the landing strip –both in a mission style and in harmony with neighboring structures, of course.
I will now gladly entertain questions from the floor. Suffice to say, though, that I’ve never been happier, in my life or in my work, and I trust the panel won’t count that against me. I’m well aware that people tend not to prefer happiness as a posture when it comes to their singer/songwriters, but I’ve elected to be unconcerned. There’s still plenty of time, and you can all take heart: if history teaches us anything, my comeuppance is likely just around the corner.
The News Journal reports today an interesting turn of events between the chairman of Gov. Minner’s Advisory Council to the Division of Substance Abuse and Mental Health and Queen Bee herself, Gov. Minner. Specifically:
When problems within the Delaware Psychiatric Center were first published by The News Journal last month, Gov. Ruth Ann Minner claimed she sent members of her mental health advisory council to investigate conditions within the state hospital, and no problems were found.
But during an acrimonious public meeting of the advisory council Thursday, the chairman of Minner’s committee contradicted the governor’s claims.
Jim Lafferty, chairman of the Governor’s Advisory Council to the Division of Substance Abuse and Mental Health, told committee members that he didn’t go to the state hospital at Minner’s request, never conducted an investigation and never reported anything back to Minner.
If only the year were 2004 so we could have sloughed off this dead weight. No. We’ve still got another year-and-a-half. Seriously, though, is anyone surprised a governor who has such disdain for what the public thinks and what her advisers tell her would do something like this? I bet the old hag lies on a regular basis.
The real question is: When will gubernatorial candidate and Lt. Gov. John Carney steop up to the plate in an attempt to distance himself from the Minner Administration insanity? John Carney may feel like he’s going to win the job through Divine Law, but his actual attempts to distance himself from Queen Butch have been lackluster at best and completely non-existent at worst.
Frequent commenter SexyBack has done a good job summarizing the current state of the Delaware GOP. See his/her comment here:
All this GOP drama is entertaining to an extent… but the fact remains, any Republican is going to get their ass handed to them by Carney or Markell.
The post cards unfortunately cross into ethnic and homophobic hate speech, but the larger issue about Levin’s ability to relate to the Delaware electorate is important. The days of the DuPont oligarchy are over - and the fact is, Levin is just another rich kid who had much of what he has, handed to him. Sure, he’s done a good job with being a part of the governance of Happy Harry’s but I don’t think there is anything exceptional about someone who takes an already existing business formula, which is proven to be successful, and, frankly - doesn’t fuck it up. That’s essentially what his success is - not fucking up. The fact that a rich, well-connected family had a son that worked for a U.S. Senator, also not that impressive in my book.
I feel the donations to Biden, etc., are essentially a non-starter. It’s a little too “inside baseball” for the broader base to really care about. Also, it is a distinctly Delaware thing to support your favorite sons, regardless of party, especially if you are in the business realm. Regardless of what you may think of Joe, many Republicans and Democrats should be proud that a state as small as ours has someone with as much clout as Biden. For Levin to get picked on for supporting Joe is rather silly.
This tripe about “jew-boy” or whatever is gross, immature, and foolish, morally and politically. There are many reasons that Levin is unelectable… most importantly, he does have that “Burris-aura” of being a rather overfed, bloated money-man. The bloated aspect is perhaps the most ignored aspect of his potential candidacy - politics is show-business for ugly people but getting a sweaty, obese man elected is going to be tough, especially when standing next to the buff Carney and svelt Markell.
Also - it’s going to be hard for a man in a state where the populace possesses a great amount of self-involvement and exceptionalism in their very being a Delawarean - to explain that he sold a Delaware-grown and defined business, to Walgreens. How can one talk about jobs when you sell-out? When you sacrifice a Delaware brand? I don’t blame him for cashing out, but it’s going to be hard to listen to him talk about Delaware pride and job creation, without remembering the price tag (albeit large), he places on them.
This cannot be good. For Mike Protack, that is. A letter signed by Protack arrived in the mailboxes of several individuals today and I’ve received a copy. Here’s the PDF (right click, save as). There’s just so much wrong with this I won’t even get into it. I can’t get past the fact Protack had the gall to title the letter “Mike Protack.”
Mr. Protack certainly isn’t doing a good job attempting to distance himself from the criticism of those accusing him of sending the pink postcards. Rather than attempt to play the political game diplomatically, he continues to hammer against hopeful-GOP gubernatorial candidate Alan Levin in ways one can only say are alarmingly disturbing. There seems to be almost some sort of pathological hatred on the part of Mr. Protack against Mr. Levin.
In the same letter he goes after party leadership, plugs his own website, and presents a list of donations Alan Levin made to both Tom Carper and Joe Biden, all the while ignoring Republican candidates for US Senate Ray Clatworthy and Jan Ting.
If Mike Protack has a campaign adviser, I’d listen to him or her quick, fast, and in a hurry. Because it’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.
Because Dave Burris has taken a vow of silence, I need your help. Can someone explain to me how exactly Burris & Co. made the jump that Mike Protack was 100%, without-a-doubt, behind the legendary and eye-opening pink postcards?!? I can understand Burris’ logical jump in claiming Protack made the various anonymous comments on several local blogs, but his connecting Protack to the postcards, simply because several of the IP addresses originated from a Kinko’s just doesn’t seem like good enough cause to peg Protack for these indiscretions.
Burris says he’s lawyered up and is refusing to answer the question.
Needless to say, I don’t know what to think. However, if it does turn out Protack had NOTHING to do with the pink postcards, I’d say Protack has a solid case of character assassination and outright defamation on his hands. Personally, I’ve grilled Protack about the postcards for months — in person, on the phone, and over email. At least in person, he’s got the straightest face ever. On the phone, he denies the charges with no hesitation. And over email he’s always asserted his innocence. Either he’s telling the truth or he’s the most gifted liar I’ve ever met.
Right-wingers in general get upset when for-profit private contractors are referred to often as mercenaries in Iraq. As this AP article proves, they really are nothing more than Lawless Mercenaries who have no accountability when they do commit frequent acts of violence against American and Iraqi troops as well as Iraqi civilians. Read the article here. I’ve provided the first few paragraphs.
There are now nearly as many private contractors in Iraq as there are U.S. soldiers — and a large percentage of them are private security guards equipped with automatic weapons, body armor, helicopters and bullet-proof trucks.
They operate with little or no supervision, accountable only to the firms employing them. And as the country has plummeted toward anarchy and civil war, this private army has been accused of indiscriminately firing at American and Iraqi troops, and of shooting to death an unknown number of Iraqi citizens who got too close to their heavily armed convoys.
Yet these profiteering corporations who are getting rich off of the dead on both sides don’t have to hold their employees accountable?!? Conservatives, call it what you will, but I’ll simply call it ridiculously obscene. Two groups of individuals living by two completely different sets of rules. I now know why so many of the military men and women complain about having to work side-by-side with these mercenaries. Some of them get paid ten-times more than they do! And they’re not accountable for their actions.
I await the usual responses from my friends G. Rex, me, and others.
Posted by Mike Matthews in Common Sense at 8:16 PM PDT
Let’s do this up…! I’ll be there, Jack Markell will be there and, apparently, so will everyone’s favorite liberal, Jason Scott. So wear your comfiest clothing, and whip out the MapQuest…plug this address in and head South Thursday night. (Or, head North depending on which county you’re headed from!)
I don’t know why I even care. I really don’t. I just felt the need to write about how asshat Dan Gaffney — he who seeks to mandate his moral code on all! — now has aimed his weak quill toward the great John Allison, he of Kilroy’s Delaware. Read what Goofy Gaffney has to say about Kilroy. I only post it here because I’m sure no one will read it on their piece-of-shit blog:
It seems odd that the Delaware Republican Party would not be troubled by the sometimes offensive public writings of a State District Chair. John Allison known in the blogoshere as Kilroy, often peppers his writings with the “f”-word, “s”-word “p”-word etc. He has a recent post about two Delaware Democrats sniffing each others rear end. Only he didn’t say rear end, he used a more locker room term. Slang words to describe the size of male anatomy have also been used recently. I understand this public image is allowed by all standards of free speech, but it still reflects very poorly on Delaware Republicans when Kilroy identifies himself as 19th District State Chair, while jumping into the gutter with language. Republicans in the First State would be well served if Mr. Allison were asked to tone it down, resign or at least stop identifying himself as the Chair while writing such garbage.
How does this man NOT put his audience of four to sleep every morning? John Allison, I’m with ya, man!! Fuck Gaffney and his shitty, pussy-ass station and the listeners who take his bullshit so seriously!!
Looks like all sorts of skeletons are coming out of closets down in Sussex these days! It was only six months ago former State Rep. John Atkins was coming under fire from just about EVERYONE in the state. Those who helped purge him from the House seem to be having problems of their own!
First, Joe Connor was a huge thorn in the side of the former Representative. He was the source of many of the allegations against Rep. Atkins in the months leading up to his resignation from the House. One had to question this man’s sanity when several months ago he was arrested for driving extremely dangerously on a Millsboro back road. He endangered the lives of many as he allegedly drove in a drunken rage — some say to take his own life. Rumor has it Connor’s pending court date won’t decide if an when he goes to jail, but for how long.
Yesterday morning I was informed by several individuals of the arrest of a Millsboro police officer who was dispatched to the “domestic incident” involving Atkins and his wife on Oct. 29. Officer Shawn Davis had to be tasered by Georgetown Police officers because of the following:
According to court records, two Georgetown police officers encountered Davis — whom they immediately recognized as a Millsboro officer — in the middle of East Market Street at 1:36 a.m. Wednesday.
“He was on all fours without a shirt, and as cars were coming up to him, he was bowing,” Georgetown police Capt. Ralph Holm said. “Cars were swerving around him.”
Two uniformed officers tried to talk Davis off the road.
“He was sitting on the ground and jumped up to attack the officer,” Holm said. “The officer instinctively reacted by pulling out his handgun. Davis stopped lunging at the officer and continued being verbally abusive.”
The two officers noticed a strong odor of alcohol on Davis’ breath, police said in court records. They ordered him to lie down and place his hands behind his back a number of times, but Davis refused.
When two backup officers arrived, they again ordered Davis to the ground, but the Millsboro officer continued to defy them, police said.
One of the officers grabbed his arm and put him face down on the ground and tried to put his hands behind his back.
“He was kicking and fighting with them to prevent them from handcuffing him,” Holm said. “One of the officers realized somebody was going to get hurt, so the four officers backed off.”
An officer holding a Taser then fired an electrical charge at Davis, who flipped over immediately and put his hands behind his back, Holm said.
Should 
Naturally, though, the bloggers stick together. My man 
No matter, my belly was fed and my brain sufficiently exercised. It was time to go and I had to make a decision. Step up to the plate, take a bumper sticker, tag my car with that baby…or, just sit back and keep my mouth shut. Yes, I did it. For the very first time I’ve decided to tag my wreck with a piece of political material. I’ve got the photographic proof! Jack doesn’t know I’ve tagged my car, but I’m sure he’s proud to know Delaware’s second-hottest blogger (after Donviti, of course!) has decided to finally take the opportunity to make the leap into certified-supporter status. Either that or I’ve finally realized the value of my car can no longer depreciate because of said sticky propaganda.
