One should talk about the past and the other about the future.
For tonight's highly anticipated presidential debate, I decided to skip right to the end. Here are two closing statements for the candidates that basically reflect their best arguments. For Obama, that his first term was considerably more successful than people give him credit for; and for Romney, that the president has failed to offer a compelling new agenda for his second term.
OBAMA'S BEST CASE: SEE THAT RECOVERY? I BUILT THAT
The Boy Scouts of America have a simple rule. "Leave it better than you found it."
It's an easy promise to make. But recently, presidents have have a hard time keeping it. The previous guy in this job inherited a surplus and left us with the Great Recession.
When I entered office, the U.S. economy was in flames. My administration successfully put out the worst of the fire and we've been pouring as much water as we can for the last three years. I'd like to share credit with the Republicans, but you know what? They don't deserve any. The recovery you've felt in the last two years: We built that. The other party just stood around saying "no."
The stimulus I signed over Republican objections set a floor under the recession. The economy started growing just six months later. Unemployment insurance that I made a priority over Republican objections helped millions of families buy food and diapers. But not just that. It also stimulated the economy by putting government spending to efficient use in the hands of the neediest families who were most likely to spend. For the last year, Republicans in the House have fought to slash government spending in the face of a slow recovery. According to every macroeconomists I've consulted, these cuts would have slowed growth in the next quarters. I fought them. I prevented them. And because of that, the recovery is on track.
Today, there are more Americans employed in the private sector than on my first day in office. The S&P 500 is up nearly 70% since my first month. Corporate profits are at an all-time high. Some people ask: Are you better off than you were four years ago? Well, if "you" are part of this tremendous business recovery or if you are among the wealthiest Americans, there is no question. You are better off. And you are better off because we put out that fire.
But I'm a realist. I know the answer to that question -- are you better off? -- isn't as clear for everybody. It's not as clear cut for a single mom trying to send a kid to university when the cost of public college is rising faster than her paycheck, while state cuts push up tuition. It's not as clear for the millions of families where one parent can't find work or is fighting an illness without health care.
The Republicans have an answer to these problems. It's "cut and pray." Now, I'm a religious man, but we need a better answer than prayer, alone. That's why I'm fighting to preserve college assistance and affordable student loans. It's why I'm fighting to save unemployment insurance and programs for the low-income that would be decimated in Romney's budget. It's why I'm fighting to save a health care program that covers tens of millions of people by the end of the decade.
So, here's the deal I'm striking. Can I ask the folks who know they are better off than they were four years ago to help the folks who are still struggling? I know Americans. From the single-mother waitress to the million-dollar entrepreneur, they are not selfish. They're smart. They know a good deal when they see it. This is a good deal.
After four years, I've left the country better than when I found it. And I'm not ready to leave just yet! I've still got work to do. We all do. And, with your vote, with another four years, I promise to you that it will keep getting better.
ROMNEY'S BEST CASE: OBAMA HAS NO FUTURE
You can learn a lot about somebody by listening. And listening to the president tonight and for the last few months, I've learned something important. Have you noticed that he can't help but speak in the past tense? It's because, when it comes to the future, he's got nothing to say.
The president is fond of telling us how he put out the fire of the Great Recession, how he passed health care, how he fought Republicans. That's all fine. But we don't need a fire fighter in chief. We need a leader. And the president has failed the most important test of leadership: trust.
He said he would bring Washington together. He failed. He said he would keep unemployment under 8 percent. He failed. He said he would cut the deficit. He failed. Washington is more divided than ever, unemployment spent 43 months over 8 percent, and the deficit has topped $1 trillion each year of his administration. Now he's asking you for another four years ... even though he has practically no new ideas for a second term! My friends, the record is long enough. And it's no good.
My critics love to complain that I'm not specific enough. That I don't use enough numbers. Well, I've got a number for you today. It's 2030.
In the last two years, job creation has been so slow that we're not on pace to close the jobs gap until the year 2030. Folks, stop for a minute and think about that. It means that if you're 40 years old today, the pace of the so-called Obama Recovery won't get us back to normal until you are at least 60 years old. You know what you're getting with this president. It is the slow and steady creep of mediocrity, plain and simple. Economic growth and job growth in 2012 has been almost identical to 2011. That's the Obama economy. You've seen it. You know it. An if you're satisfied with it -- if you're alright with voting for 2030 -- then go ahead and vote for 2030.
But if you want to vote this year, if you want to vote for 2012, then I've got a plan. It will create jobs. It will simplify your taxes. It will grow the economy. You might disagree with it. You might think it goes too far here, and isn't ambitious enough there. That's okay. At least I've got a plan. And I'm committed to doing what this president isn't: Going to Washington and getting things done.
Hillary Clinton once tweeted that “every survivor of sexual assault deserves to be heard, believed, and supported.” What about Juanita Broaddrick?
If the ground beneath your feet feels cold, it’s because hell froze over the other day. It happened at 8:02 p.m. on Monday, when The New York Times published an op-ed called “I Believe Juanita.”
Written by Michelle Goldberg, it was a piece that, 20 years ago, likely would have inflamed the readership of the paper and scandalized its editors. Reviewing the credibility of Broaddrick’s claim, Goldberg wrote that “five witnesses said she confided in them about the assault right after it happened,” an important standard in reviewing the veracity of claims of past sex crimes.
But Goldberg’s was not a single snowflake of truth; rather it was part of an avalanche of honesty in the elite press, following a seemingly innocuous tweet by the MSNBC host Chris Hayes. “As gross and cynical and hypocritical as the right’s ‘what about Bill Clinton’ stuff is,” he wrote, “it’s also true that Democrats and the center left are overdue for a real reckoning with the allegations against him.”
A No. 1 bestseller by a respected physician argues that gluten and carbohydrates are at the root of Alzheimer's disease, anxiety, depression, and ADHD. What to make of the controversial theory?
“If you could make just three simple changes in your life to prevent, or even reverse, memory loss and other brain disorders, wouldn’t you?”
So asks Dr. David Perlmutter, in promotion of his PBS special Brain Change, coming soon to your regional affiliate. Three changes. Simple ones. Wouldn’t you?
The 90-minute special is a companion to Perlmutter’s blockbuster book on how gluten and carbs are destroying our brains. In November it became a New York Times number one bestseller. Since its September release, as Perlmutter told me, “It’s never not been on the bestseller list, frankly.”
“Is it still number one?” I asked. A pause over the phone as he checked. In modern interview style, we were both also on our computers.
How did Andrew Anglin go from being an antiracist vegan to the alt-right’s most vicious troll and propagandist—and how might he be stopped?
On December 16, 2016, Tanya Gersh answered her phone and heard gunshots. Startled, she hung up. Gersh, a real-estate agent who lives in Whitefish, Montana, assumed it was a prank call. But the phone rang again. More gunshots. Again, she hung up. Another call. This time, she heard a man’s voice: “This is how we can keep the Holocaust alive,” he said. “We can bury you without touching you.”
When Gersh put down the phone, her hands were shaking. She was one of only about 100 Jews in Whitefish and the surrounding Flathead Valley, and she knew there were white nationalists and “sovereign citizens” in the area. But Gersh had lived in Whitefish for more than 20 years, since just after college, and had always considered the scenic ski town an idyllic place. She didn’t even have a key to her house—she’d never felt the need to lock her door. Now that sense of security was about to be shattered.
The nation wants to eradicate all invasive mammal predators by 2050. Gene-editing technology could help—or it could trigger an ecological disaster of global proportions.
The first thing that hit me about Zealandia was the noise.
I was a 15-minute drive from the center of Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city, but instead of the honks of horns or the bustle of passersby, all I could hear was birdsong. It came in every flavor—resonant coos, high-pitched cheeps, and alien notes that seemed to come from otherworldly instruments.
Much of New Zealand, including national parks that supposedly epitomize the concept of wilderness, has been so denuded of birds that their melodies feel like a rare gift—a fleeting thing to make note of before it disappears. But Zealandia is a unique 225-hectare urban sanctuary into which many of the nation’s most critically endangered species have been relocated. There, they are thriving—and singing. There, their tunes are not a scarce treasure, but part of the world’s background hum. There, I realized how the nation must have sounded before it was invaded by mammals.
From Eve to Aristotle to Sarah Huckabee Sanders, a brief history of looking at half the population and assuming the worst
The picture was striking. The military airplane. The sleeping woman. The outstretched hands. The mischievous smile. The look what I’m getting away with impishness directed at the camera.
On Thursday, Leeann Tweeden, a radio host and former model, came forward with the accusation that Senator Al Franken, of Minnesota, had kissed her against her will during a 2006 USO trip to Kuwait, Iraq, and Afghanistan. In a story posted to the website of Los Angeles’s KABC station, Tweeden shared her experience with Franken. She also shared that photo. “I couldn’t believe it,” she wrote. “He groped me, without my consent, while I was asleep.”
I felt violated all over again. Embarrassed. Belittled. Humiliated.
How dare anyone grab my breasts like this and think it’s funny?
I told my husband everything that happened and showed him the picture.
I wanted to shout my story to the world with a megaphone to anyone who would listen, but even as angry as I was, I was worried about the potential backlash and damage going public might have on my career as a broadcaster.
But that was then, this is now. I’m no longer afraid.
For years, Republican politicians have attacked the mainstream press. With Roy Moore’s Senate bid, they’re facing the consequences.
All news is “fake news”—at least if you’re a diehard Roy Moore supporter.
With sexual misconduct allegations continuing to mount against the Republican Senate candidate in Alabama, Moore has defied calls to drop out of the race by advancing an audacious conspiracy theory—that partisan fabulists in the mainstream media are working with his enemies in the political establishment to wage a nefarious smear campaign against him. Not long ago, such claims likely would have backfired. But in the Trump era, anti-press sentiment has reached a fever pitch on the right—something candidates like Moore are eagerly exploiting.
Moore has not directly denied many of the specific allegations. Instead, he has sought to cast himself as the victim of a witch hunt and sow just enough doubt in the stories to muddy the waters in voters’ minds.
Want to become a florist in Louisiana? A home-entertainment installer in Connecticut? Or a barber anywhere? You’re going to need a license for that—and it’s going to cost you.
In most states, a person who desires to install home-entertainment systems for a living, or as a part-time gig for extra cash, faces relatively few barriers to entry. This is work teenagers routinely do for grandparents after they make a technology purchase. But in Connecticut, a home-entertainment installer is required to obtain a license from the state before serving customers. It costs applicants $185. To qualify, they must have a 12th-grade education, complete a test, and accumulate one year of apprenticeship experience in the field. A typical aspirant can expect the licensing process to delay them 575 days.
These figures are drawn from License to Work, a report released this week by the Institute for Justice, a public-interest law firm that has sued state governments on behalf of numerous small-business owners and members of the working class who’ve faced unduly onerous obstacles while trying to earn a living.
Second Life was supposed to be the future of the internet, but then Facebook came along. Yet many people still spend hours each day inhabiting this virtual realm. Their stories—and the world they’ve built—illuminate the promise and limitations of online life.
Gidge Uriza lives in an elegant wooden house with large glass windows overlooking a glittering creek, fringed by weeping willows and meadows twinkling with fireflies. She keeps buying new swimming pools because she keeps falling in love with different ones. The current specimen is a teal lozenge with a waterfall cascading from its archway of stones. Gidge spends her days lounging in a swimsuit on her poolside patio, or else tucked under a lacy comforter, wearing nothing but a bra and bathrobe, with a chocolate-glazed donut perched on the pile of books beside her. “Good morning girls,” she writes on her blog one day. “I’m slow moving, trying to get out of bed this morning, but when I’m surrounded by my pretty pink bed it’s difficult to get out and away like I should.”
Writing in The Atlantic this week, Kurt Andersen praises members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints or Mormons for their “sincere commitment to leading virtuous lives” while simultaneously snickering at their “extreme and strange” beliefs.
There is, of course, a long and rather ignoble tradition of simultaneously praising and mocking Mormons. In the throes of World War II, President Franklin Roosevelt sent off a friendly missive to Winston Churchill and his wife. Roosevelt noted his “very high opinion of the Mormons” while also taking the opportunity to poke fun at Mormon polygamy, which had officially ended in 1890.
In Japan, you can pay an actor to impersonate your relative, spouse, coworker, or any kind of acquaintance.
Money may not be able to buy love, but here in Japan, it can certainly buy the appearance of love—and appearance, as the dapper Ishii Yuichi insists, is everything. As a man whose business involves becoming other people, Yuichi would know. The handsome and charming 36-year-old is on call to be your best friend, your husband, your father, or even a mourner at your funeral.
His 8-year-old company, Family Romance, provides professional actors to fill any role in the personal lives of clients. With a burgeoning staff of 800 or so actors, ranging from infants to the elderly, the organization prides itself on being able to provide a surrogate for almost any conceivable situation.
Yuichi believes that Family Romance helps people cope with unbearable absences or perceived deficiencies in their lives. In an increasingly isolated and entitled society, the CEO predicts the exponential growth of his business and others like it, as à la carte human interaction becomes the new norm.