This is no longer an election; it is now a Looney Tunes short.
Readers, we are gathered here together on this sunny afternoon at the political graveside of Maine Democratic Senate candidate Graham Platner for reasons that no longer need much explanation: Platner is a thinly veiled progressive fascist with a fraudulent public biography and a history of abusive behavior toward women (this Democrats knew, and accepted, long ago).
Now he is freshly and credibly accused of being a blackout-drunk rapist as well. His fundraising has dried up, and his national allies have now all abandoned ship, down to the last bedraggled rat (after insisting up until a week ago that he was the living embodiment of working-class honesty and grit). Platner’s campaign is dead.
Only Platner is still trying to pretend he’s not dead yet. No, the Democrats suddenly find themselves temporarily seized up with an acute case of Platner fasciitis in Maine, as their chosen avatar decides that now — at this moment of complete and utter ruination — is the time to start making demands. Platner has all but admitted that he will depart the race, though he is transparently stalling for time: He sent out a questionnaire to campaign volunteers this afternoon with a 48-hour deadline to respond.
The point is not to wait for enough time to read the responses (though I would love to see the uncensored answers to Question No. 2: “What message do you have for Graham?”), the point is stave off his inevitable departure from the race until it can be folded into a “Friday news dump.” But in the meantime, he demands the right to select his replacement. Word is that Platner is demanding that another Democratic Socialist–type progressive must step into his shoes, not some boringly safe Democrat!
Maine’s Democratic Party feels otherwise. They insist they’ll never take any orders from Platner, they expect him to leave quietly, and then promise only an “open, inclusive, transparent, and fair” selection process for his replacement. Do you believe them, progressives? Of course not. Platner will go by Friday, with his ginger beard meekly tucked between his legs, and then the Democrats will make their call.
The deadline for Platner to drop out is July 13; the deadline for Maine Democrats to register a replacement is July 27; this will have to be a streamlined process, not a public audition process. Expect somebody’s ox to get bloodily gored behind the scenes, probably the DSA’s.
Readers, I can’t lie: These are the moments worth savoring in life. The chaos. The despair. The palpable, throbbing rage and misery. The revelations of power, corruption, and lies, the peals of recrimination, all as you watch a bunch of soulless political hacks speedrun through all five of the Kübler-Ross stages of grief, but as pure comedy. This is no longer an election; it is now a Looney Tunes short, with Susan Collins meep-meeping away as the Road Runner and mindless Democratic partisans chasing after her like hapless coyotes, using one exploding ACME-grade candidate after another.
There are at least five potential candidates in the “race” to replace Platner: former gubernatorial candidate Troy Jackson, losing congressional candidate Paige Loud, Secretary of State Shenna Bellows (who lost to Collins once already, 68–31, in 2014), former state Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Director Nirav Shah, and some lunatic progressive state legislator named Valli Geiger, who just went on the record claiming to be Platner’s personal heir-designate: “He said ‘Valli you are a fighter, you have been with this movement since the beginning.’” (Something tells me this is puffery.)
May the candidates continue to tumble forth from the clown car! Two things are certain: Platner will not be the nominee; one of these losers will be. And who knows, maybe they’ll finally catch their quarry this November anyway. But I’d bet against it; these products keep backfiring disastrously.