Act I: The Rope-A-Dope Prelude
Wednesday, February 26, 2025 – The sun is coming up over Old Louisville and outside our third story walkup a cacophony of sirens, train horns, bird calls, bus stop banter, barking dogs, UPS planes roaring overhead on approach and jalopies grumbling down Hill Street are each vying for my attention and putting me on edge as I hover over this infernal laptop.
But they can’t have it.
It’s bad enough, I just allotted five minutes reading Louisiana native and Democratic operative James Carville’s February 25 Op-Ed in the New York Times, who argued Democrats should “tactically retreat,” play possum and allow Republicans to self-implode, while employing, as he described it, Muhammad Ali’s “rope-a-dope” gambit.
Carville’s call to inaction is provocative and at first glance appears almost logical. It’s also drafted by a pol I once put some amount of stock into. But his playbook (which is no playbook at all) is not only idiotic but suicidal—he argues to do nothing while the Oligarchs raid the country, create a Handmaid’s Tale Autocracy, and outlaw Civil Liberties.
What say ye’ Louisvillians? Ready to bend over and get pummeled for a few rounds by the Republicans, Billionaires, the Evangelical Reich, the KKK and their rube foot soldiers? Afterwards, we’ll naturally come out on top and land the knockout punch, right?
The top comment to the editorial that received over 5000 “likes” (which is no small feat) was written by Steve from Central Pennsylvania, who began: “Am I the only one who thinks Carville’s comments reflect everything that is wrong with the Democratic Party?”
No Steve. You’re not.
But I’m getting sidetracked. I started this morning with one crystalline idea after scanning the papers’ headlines, which is: the gift of hindsight is no gift at all. Indeed. Thankfully, I can FEEL my first gulp of freshly brewed (and outrageously steeped) green tea hitting my synapses and focusing my thoughts—I drink this milquetoast elixir now because my blood pressure and nervous system can no longer bear my 4-espresso-a-morning regimen.
Which is to say, I’m ready to get down to the ugly business of writing about both the recent political developments that have altered the original structure of this seemingly straightforward piece about a town hall I was commissioned to compose for the Leo; developments that will affect millions of poor Americans, and no doubt hundreds of thousands of Kentuckians who depend on Medicaid among other services.
To wit, it’s been four days since I attended our third congressional district Congressman Morgan McGarvey’s Central High Q&A last Saturday. But it’s been less than a dozen hours since the House GOP passed their budget reconciliation resolution that will deliver $4.5 trillion dollars in tax cuts to the wealthiest 1 percent, while stripping 880 billion from the Energy and Commerce Committee. An Orwellian title for a body that oversees the spending for just two major programs: Medicare and Medicaid—the latter of which will undoubtedly be hacked to death once the overlords take their pound of flesh.
The resolution passed 217-215 Tuesday evening. Of note, had just one more Republican voted against the resolution, it would have failed. Only the Northern Kentucky Republican Congressman Thomas Massie, of all gents, voted “no” alongside McGarvey and the Democrats.
Is it unfair or just plain foolish of me to ask: How could the Dems have not convinced just one more GOP House member to vote with them? It seems, as our constituents pointed out in the town hall days prior, impassioned speeches alone are “not enough” to get the job done.
Unless of course, one believes we should heed Carville’s clarion call. IF that’s the case, maybe we are on the Right track.
Act II: They Showed Up To Light A Fire
DOGE Corruption – Ohio Flooding – The Trump Trade – The Moonshine Hangover – Canadians Win – Segregation and Cassius Clay – My Southern Demons – Blitzkrieg – The Total Package – Frankfort’s Sewage Bill – Barack Obama Sheen – Pit of Hero Worship and the Lost Bet – What Do We Want? Action! – When Do We Want It? Now!
I pulled into the Central High parking lot at roughly 9:40 AM on Saturday, February 22. The lot was full, so I parallel parked on the grass with the hood of my car facing the public housing units across Chestnut Street where I’ve picked up a litany of passengers for Lyft over the years.
With twenty minutes to spare and the heat on high, I decided to take a beat, while listening to the end of a Weekend Edition story about a federal employee who was fired not once but twice in the span of two days as Elon Musk’s minions continued to take a sledgehammer to the federal bureaucracy and democratic guardrails in the ongoing DOGE saga.
The temperature gauge on my dash read a crisp 25 degrees, but it was wonderfully sunny out after the deluge of rain and snow that wreaked havoc across the Commonwealth in previous days, and I was hellbent on soaking in all the vitamin D I could to inoculate myself from the Winter Blues continuously creeping up my spinal column.
Parts of downtown and River Road were still severely flooded after the Ohio crested at 28.3 feet the day before. Seeing the water overtake the pumps at the Shell gas station at Zorn and River was an ominous indicator of just how high the flood waters had rose.
Conversely, the Dow Jones Industrial Average had dropped 1000 points in the two previous trading sessions, its largest fall since March of 2020 (the deadly opening days of the pandemic), which to me was the first sign in months of any rational behavior espoused by the Wizards on Wall Street.
For two years the S&P 500, the Nasdaq Composite and the “Magnificent Seven” tech stocks have pumped to all-time highs and were especially supercharged since November in the lower taxes, roll back regulations, fuck workers, crypto-con post-election “Trump Trade” environment. A frenzy that was now unwinding and catching up to reality like a debilitating moonshine hangover—a hangover filled with ugly white lightening truths like how default rates on car loans and credit cards, due to inflation, are mirroring those not seen since the 2008 housing crash.
But when the NPR story on the double-fired federal employee turned to Canada’s hockey team beating the USA in the finals of the 4 Nations Faceoff tournament, I noticed an uptick of fellow constituents pulling in, getting out and speed-walking up to the yellow brick façade.
Needing to secure my seat, I followed suit, trailing several LMPD officers – charged with providing security – up to the front doors, through the metal detectors and into the bowels of the high school.
I checked-in at the registration table, where I was handed a comment card. The woman who handed it to me explained I could fill it out and drop it off afterwards if I didn’t want to ask McGarvey a question inside and assured me I would receive a response. I smiled, thanked her and took a seat at the back of the auditorium in front of the reserved press section with a bird’s-eye view of the quarter-full room, and got out my clipboard and pen and began to feverishly jot notes.
I’ll concede, it was somewhat discombobulating being back inside an aging public high school, even if I was two decades removed from frequenting one or two of my own. I should also admit, at the time, I’d completely overlooked the historic significance of where, exactly, it was, that I was sitting. This was the first African American high school in the state. It was previously segregated and taught our native son Cassius Clay.
It was my first time entering the school after escorting dozens of students to it and I’m not sure why I didn’t acknowledge these novel facts at the time. I knew them. Maybe because I was too self-absorbed and busy projecting my own high school experience on my surroundings, while staring at the urine-colored stage curtains, the smudged white paint along the edges of the ceiling and the dark weathered seats sullied by teenagers’ stale farts, while thinking about the omnipresent crush of lurking teachers and administrators obsessively controlling their students’ every move.
To be clear, I didn’t love high school. From the age of 13 or so, I wanted to be wild and free and under no one’s command. Accordingly, I tried to rebelliously phoenix my way out from under the freakish and retrograde Christian fundamentalist cage in which I was raised and away from the bourgeois, khaki-clad conservative sons of silent Confederates who dominated my hometown of Richmond, Virginia. But stepping back outside myself, I can see my experience was idyllic compared to what the students who attended Central endured during the 1950s before Brown vs Board of Education.
Nevertheless, what did concern me was how this crowd would respond to our silver-tongued second-term congressman—who’d two years earlier replaced the founder of this very paper, John Yarmuth, after he retired from his seat in the House of Representatives.
Would they myopically focus on Trump’s maniacal blitzkrieg? Or, would they take a more nuanced approach and look the horse in the mouth and challenge their own party’s inability to persuade working-class voters whose side they were on, which was why we were in this fucking predicament, again, in the first place.
My bet was on the former proposition. And I made this assumption based off the sole fact that McGarvey is such a likable guy. The Young Turk is the total package—McGarvey is bright, articulate, charming, photogenic, a man of faith with a beautiful family and is both an accomplished attorney and the former Minority Leader of the State Senate.
The first time I saw him speak from the floor of the senate chamber during the 2018 budget session, I too was gobsmacked by McGarvey’s faculties. At the time, I was working as a legislative intern in Frankfort and tasked with creating a daily journal summary that tracked every action and piece of legislation that worked its way through the upper chamber of the legislature for a small outfit that provided real-time statehouse news to lobbyists busy trying to put their fingers on the scale of state government.
In particular, I remember one fiery floor speech McGarvey delivered, dropping rhetorical bombs, while busy castigating his Republican colleagues who were fiendishly ramming through in the eleventh hour a budget proposal that had turned an 11-page sewage bill into a 291-page pension reform act, using the cheeky bait-and-switch parliamentary maneuver dubbed a “committee substitute” (which was later deemed unconstitutional by the Kentucky Supreme Court).
As McGarvey made his defiant albeit powerless stand (Democrats were in the minority of both chambers and Bevin was at the helm), it was clear to me then, as it was to many others at the time, he was going places.
I liked McGarvey immediately and now respect his prowess immensely. But it was this type of Barack Obama sheen – the liberal bonafides, the eloquence, the elite legal-career-path, the clean-cut clout and a gift for selling you what you wanted to hear – I expected would enthrall if not pacify our fellow 502 constituents and compel them to defer to their representative’s rhetoric instead of challenging him and his party.
But my prejudices were all wrong and I would have lost that bet—they had no intention of tumbling into the pit of hero worship.
Although my neighbors were thankful their representative was both a solid dude and the lone Democratic congressman in the state, and although they were incredibly respectful to him, this crowd intuitively understood the gravity of the moment and were not about to neuter their opinions.
They understood that no matter how righteous McGarvey is, he was still a politician. And that he was likely (or arguably) to be more beholden to big donors, consultants, Corporate America, the Party Line and fundraising for his next election cycle than he was wholly concerned with our needs.
Which is to say, they weren’t carrying pitch forks, preparing to storm the Bastille or foaming at the mouth and behaving like rabid dogs. But the 200 or so, mostly silver haired, Social Security backed Louisvillians who’d showed up on that cold early Saturday morning – a reoccurring theme McGarvey cited throughout the town hall – had come to light a fire under their congressman’s ass.
And although the auditorium was not even half full, after Amy Washburn, McGarvey’s district coordinator introduced him, and once he mounted the stage (alongside Ken Herndon, the new fourth district Metro Councilman, and later joined by State Senate Minority Leader Gerald Neal), a palpable energy rippled through the room as dozens of people, when prompted, sprang to form single-file lines on both wings of the stage, eager to pose pointed questions, provide tactical suggestions and deliver emotional harangues filled with colorful language.
McGarvey began by saying, “I came here to talk with you, not talk at you. I want to take your questions. That’s what I want to spend the time doing.”
And to his credit, that’s what he did. But the feedback he heard was mostly grim: it was a mix of disappointment, disgust, and yes, a heavy dose of native fear and loathing.
I’ll grant, it’s not easy to be in the minority, even if the margins are razor thin. But it’s even more debilitating when your constituents think your party looks gutless, or at least ineffectual in the face of rising authoritarianism. That was the common theme. What are you all going to do stop the “Nazis”? Because what you’re currently doing is not enough.
These folks were clear about what they wanted to see. Action. Backbone. Strategy. A media barrage filled with simple to grasp language that hammered home the point of both who the villains were and exposed the horrors of what they were up to. They wanted acts of Civil Disobedience. Arrests. Striking images on the Nightly News to rouse the moral conscience of the nation. Most of all, they wanted their legislators, if nothing else, to pour sand in the gears to muck up the wheels of government to slow the savage decimation by a thousand cuts of our Republic.
Act III: A Selection of Louisville’s Voices from McGarvey’s Central High Town Hall
Rich Miles, from the Portland neighborhood
Rich was the first to make it to the stage and grab the microphone. He asked, “Do you think Democrats can put a stop to this Trump agenda, especially the budget that’s coming up?”
McGarvey responded with a tempered albeit inconclusive, “maybe.”
He went on to provide reasons why it could go either way, outlining the Republican’s razor slim majority in the House and how they could only lose one vote, which he counterbalanced with the fact that the 10 commonsense Republicans who’d voted to impeach the president after Jan. 6 had all but been eradicated from the party.
But what I never did hear him say throughout the morning was who in the Republican caucus was most susceptible to reason, what attempts were being made to target, persuade and pick them off behind the scenes and how they were going to go about doing that.
Joe, from the Beechmont neighborhood
Joe had one commendation, one critique and three suggestions. He applauded the House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries’ legislative objectives but derided his “communication approach,” saying he, “looks barely awake half the time.”
In an authoritative voice, he then made three bullet points, stating Democrats needed to:
(1) “Get on the floor. Make as many speeches as you can,” as well as continually message-blast on social media.
(2) “Get arrested.”
(3) Send mailers to everyone in the district with a concise message, and they “just have to say these guys are NAZIS and we need to STOP them.”
The crowd erupted after he suggested getting arrested. Afterwards, McGarvey made a pithy response that made us all laugh, but it had the deflationary effect of a red herring that somewhat detracted from the fervor and solemnity of the petitioner and dodged the crux of its call to action, as he stated: “All right, if you guys get a collect call from a D.C. jail, just answer it!”
William Schmidt, from the Norton Commons neighborhood
William introduced himself with his own self-deprecating joke. After citing where he lived, he wanted to assure everyone that yes “he was a Democrat,” alluding to the fact that Democrats are in short supply in his affluent prefabricated East End enclave.
He then posited, “I think Democrats have a messaging problem.”
McGarvey agreed, “I don’t think that is earth shattering news here. We need to have a simple message that is repeated over and over and over again.” He added, “Republicans govern in headlines. We govern in fine print.” And then argued, we can’t do that anymore.
William also asked the rhetorical question, “If we’re looking for budget cuts then where can we cut the fat? Instead of responding to a Republican narrative, why don’t we create a Democrat narrative? Adding, “Clinton balanced the budget. You can do it too… Let’s be proactive and beat them at their game!”
This latter point, not without its tension, was never addressed, potentially because while Clinton balanced the budget, he also gutted welfare programs, criminalized the poor and expanded the carceral state.
With that said, everyone knows the first place to look for cuts in the budget, but the last place to expect them, is at the Pentagon.
Jim
Jim was a recently retired Post Office employee who outlined a sundry of problems he’d witnessed while on the job he attributed to the United States Postmaster General Louis DeJoy, a Trump donor and appointee of 45’s administration, who’d recently announced his retirement and who was originally brought in to intentionally break the mail system under the pretext of cutting costs and streamlining.
McGarvey sympathized with Jim and the Post Office’s plight and thanked him for his often-thankless service, which accrued loud applause.
He said, “this is an example of the MAGA movement and Trump and his billionaire buddies screwing things up. They said when they hired Louis DeJoy what they wanted to do to this office. They knew this wasn’t going to work. And despite their pleas that it’s just inclement weather… we know it’s more than that.”
He went on to itemize how the decimation of the PO had led to medicines, paychecks, W2s during tax season and other essential items not being delivered or not delivered in a timely manner, which was putting an undue burden on everyday Americans’ lives.
Cory
Cory had a disability and stood beside an aid who read a statement on his behalf: “With 17 states’ attorney generals suing against section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act ruled unconstitutional, a cornerstone of disability law, what can Congress and we the people do to protect our rights to live the way we choose just like everyone else? I’m also worried about the nightmare scenario, if they are successful, will they come for the ADA [the Americans with Disabilities Act] next?”
McGarvey, thanked Cory, who he said he’d known for over ten years. Asked for a round of applause. And commended him for continuously “showing up.”
“90% of life is showing up,” McGarvey underscored. “And Cory shows up every time and demands that our government do right by every American.”
He then admitted, “I have a title, but I can tell you every single day right now I am as frustrated and scared as anybody else. And the fact we are even sitting here talking about repealing a landmark piece of legislation like the Americans with Disabilities Act—signed into law I believe by George Herbert Walker Bush if I am not mistaken—is frightening. The Americans with Disabilities Act makes sure that people have access to buildings, have access to restrooms, have the ability to work and make a living for themself. Why on God’s green earth would we take away that significant achievement? There is no rhyme or reason for it. You mentioned getting arrested, taking away the Americans with Disabilities Act is a ‘lay down in front of the door’ moment.”
Jodi Hill
Jodi gave an emphatic testament: “It feels like that there are many Democratic politicians right now who are just rolling over and not saying ‘No!’ If nothing else, every time that man and his minions and their tech bros do something that they’re not allowed to do, you all should be saying ‘No! That is wrong! That is not allowed!’ He is a rapist in every sense of the word, and he will push and push and push and push until he’s got his hand so far up everybody’s you know what, because they are not saying ‘no.’ You need to say ‘No!’”
Jodi then turned to a personal encounter to hammer home the point, outlining how her daughter had died of brain cancer, and how it devastated her to watch Republicans cut funding to the National Institutes for Health and cancer research, saying it’s “inhumane and everyone should just say ‘No!’”
McGarvey apologized and acknowledged, “Behind every budget comes a child. Behind every right we strip away is a person. Behind all of these policy decisions are real people who are hurt by this. That’s why we call it cruel.”
He then outlined a three-pronged approach Democrats were taking to combat the onslaught of vicious cuts, summed up in three words: “Legislate. Litigate. Agitate.”
To this end, he highlighted multiple bills he’d cosponsored to help limit Elon Musk’s influence over federal agencies. He cited how he is on the House Litigation Task Force, and that there are over 50 lawsuits against the Trump administration’s actions working their way through the courts, which he said they are thus far on balance winning. And on the agitate front, he said it’s going to take more social media messaging, require folks like us in the audience getting out and showcasing our voices and it was going to take putting more pressure on Republicans in Congress.
Michael, from the Portland neighborhood
Michael began by detailing how he’d spoken to McGarvey the morning after he won his first campaign and had asked him at the time to “remember us when you go to Washington.” From this vantage, he barreled into a biting critique of the Democrats:
“With the impotence and incompetence of holding Trump accountable for January 6, which makes him ineligible to be in the White House, the contract is broken! The people are pissed! We’re out here doing the things you guys should be doing the last four years. And I know this is only your second term. You haven’t been there the whole time. But when are the Democrats going to reestablish the Constitution? Right now, the contract is broken! And we the people are tired of being out here in the streets protesting and marching because of the failure of the whole legislative branch. Do something!”
McGarvey: “I share a lot of your frustrations.” He went on to speak about a generational shift taking place in Congress right now with more younger people coming in and that there was a realization “that the old way of doing things is not going to work anymore and you can’t just be nice. It doesn’t mean we become them. But it doesn’t mean we can’t call out the bullshit either!”
This fired up the crowd.
McGarvey then noted the one place where he disagreed with Michael’s statement: “Nancy Pelosi impeached Donald Trump twice!”
This also garnered more applause but was cut short by a man from the audience shouting: “Merrick Garland was derelict in his duty!”
McGarvey said he also “shared this frustration.” And asked rhetorically, “why was Merrick Garland, the Attorney General for four years, not doing his job of forcefully prosecuting people who’d done this, in a timely fashion? I have those same questions and so I think it’s right to be angry and I think we have to say that we got to do things a little differently.”
It was at this point in the discussion, my attention was sidelined by a disruptive mother and her young child, who began running back and forth in the back aisle behind me. The running, a harmless enough attempt to preoccupy the cute kid, would have been a non-issue, but the child was also yelling loudly like she was on a playground, without being reprimanded while chasing her mother in front of the press cameras, which made a dozen people from the audience repeatedly turn and scowl after the behavior continued for over twenty minutes.
Of course, we were all seething and trapped in the prisoner’s dilemma: no one wanted to be the asshole at a liberal town hall telling a mother to take her child into the lobby, while hoping someone else would step up and do just that. I contemplated saying something, and usually I am the first person to voice my opinion no matter the social rub but deferred in this instance to see if the principal of Central High School, who was also in attendance and standing directly behind me, would intervene. This was her domain after all. Unfortunately, she was also busy chatting to someone she knew and paid the child and her mother little mind. So, eventually I had to move down closer to the stage—on my audio recording, the child’s babble drowned out much of the transcript and so it remains a nuisance even now as I try to decipher what was said.
Mike, from the Crescent Hill neighborhood
Mike was the most notably enflamed member of the audience to grab the microphone. He began his tirade by saying, “I’m going to do my best not to cuss. I’m seething!” And then he charged in, “I don’t want to hear ‘We’re doing our best.’ I don’t want to hear ‘We know.’”
Continuing, “A well-functioning government has checks and balances. You need a competent other side. You don’t have it. O.K.! Negotiating with terrorists is out the window. Negotiating with Nazis, fascists, vile agendas is out the window! You’re not doing enough! You need to get aggressive! You need to impede! If the shoe was on the other foot, they would shut down the government… it’s not enough. You need to get arrested! I will bail you out. Impede. Obstruct. Do whatever you can… don’t show up for a vote. Make headlines! Get some attention! It’s not enough man!”
The crowd erupted. Mike had tapped into the central nervous system of our audience and harnessed the language and fervor that best expressed how we ourselves were feeling. After the applause died, someone from the audience seconded the motion, while broadening the call of duty and share of responsibility: “We all need to get arrested!”
McGarvey responded to Mike saying, “I’m glad he’s here. And I’ll tell you, we’re pissed too. We’re super pissed. And I think you’re right. More has to be done.”
Sheila
Sheila, a retired census bureau employee, an African American woman (which she underscored), and a crowd pleaser, started off on an uplifting note while addressing McGarvey: “I voted for you. I love you. I pray for you every day.” She then laid down some sage folk wisdom: “The Democratic Party has to get off its ass!” Adding, “my mother and father told me, if people don’t play nice with you, you can’t play nice with them. I’m not saying be as ignorant as them,” but, “I do want to see more hell raising from my Democratic Party!”
McGarvey did not respond to Sheila, mainly because his director interjected after she spoke to note they were going to extend the town hall for fifteen more minutes—it had already run for the hour it was scheduled but more and more people kept lining up to ask questions.
Nameless woman
One woman asked, “When is the Democratic party going to become more strategic… become more specific about issues in this country? Like for instance, you talk about the middle class, but you never use the word ‘poor.’”
McGarvey responded: “How do we fix the Democratic party? If we had an hour, I’m not sure we could get there… I hear your concerns. I share your concerns.”
Someone from the audience shouted: “We are the party!”
Mark McKinley
Mark had one key suggestion: “The way we change the Democratic Party is to look at the Bernie Sanders and AOC plan going after small donors and quit relying on Corporate America and billionaires to bankroll our elections.”
There was notably no response from McGarvey on this point (although the little girl running behind me continued to chime in).
Bruce, from Old Louisville
Bruce wanted to know, “Where is the Tea Party? Boston’s okay, but I think we need to have a few more Tea Parties out here. I mean, the Civil Rights groups… we were all marching. Vietnam we were all stomping our feet. What can the public do? I think there’s a point where these Republicans who are so focused on following their Fuhrer, they will lose their way… [But] other than marching, I don’t know what to do. I’m here because I want to do something. I think we’re all here because we want to do something!”
The crowd erupted again.
McGarvey: “Don’t underestimate the power of marching.” Someone from the audience yelled, “Strike!”
McGarvey continued, “The day after Trump was inaugurated in 2017, a million people showed up in Washington D.C. and set a tone. Again, I am never going to shirk any responsibility we have as Democratically elected officials in Washington. But that set a tone… This is one of those moments where there is no act that is too small.”
I’ll close with one final thought. Our neighbors who showed up both surprised and impressed me with their candor and moxie. They rejuvenated my belief in the power of grassroots politics. And they reaffirmed the tried-and-true adage “all politics is local.”
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This article appears in Feb 28 – Mar 6, 2025.