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I thought all that dog and pony stuff happened with those cool kids in Austin?
Nice 80f up here in south central Alaska, just hot enough to lay down those two peckered mosquitos for a few days.
Twenty years ago our region had 90 days of garden growing weather the average is 120 a summer now, not complaining mind you, the garden is green and lush.
Two summers ago we had almost 100f which is unheard of for our region, north of us Fairbanks would see that kind of temp but they get a lot more sun hours per day. You couldn't buy a window air conditioner at any price and of course do to the refrigeration details they couldn't be flown up from down in America, only shipped up on a barge. We bought a lot of box fans.
HR
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I prefer my flamenco guitar spicy, doesn't have to be fast, should have some meat on the bones, can be raw or well done, as long as it doesn't sound like it's turning green on an elevator floor.
I have a lot of relatives who in the 1980’s and 90’s claimed climate wasn’t changing due to humans and that the studies being done were as the sound bite went ‘junk science. I always knew the science was legitimate and in the late 90’s and 00’s hung around with a lot if scientists at UC Berkeley because they were are beer drinking guitarists. They were not as my relatives claimed writing grants for funding “dooms day science” and gratuitous negative anti capitalist analysis of global warming. I heard junk science over and over from people who thought this was a game to get money from NSF and other granting foundations. Then I read an airport novel by Michael Crichton called ‘State of Fear’ it was kind of a spoof on Clinton liberalism and the environment. It was an exciting little book if you needed distraction whilst sitting in a lounge at Incheon Airport, and I wasn’t offended by the take down of liberal weenies because he made fun of the right parts of liberal culture, making a blonde yoga teacher into an absolute crystal worshipping airhead. Fine page turner, but not a deep book like Jurassic Park. ( 😂)
The novel has a bibliography as one might not expect, but in it are listed dozens of science studies on climate. He did his research. He considered climate change to be in part manufactured by the science community to acquire funding, this is a subplot in the novel, it’s a knock on what was called PC in the late 90’s. I read this in about 2003, and ten years later when it was unavoidable to claim that the planet was not getting hotter I was in a conversation about climate with one of my relatives who called it junk science in the mid 90’s. The question came up because I was saying even Exxon and the US military were studying climate change and creating strategies and contingency plans because it turns out it is real. The scientists at Cal Tech were right after all. My relative says “Well all it means is that markets will shift places and regions like Canada will gain more arable land. I winced internally and kept my mouth shut because we were about to sit down to a dinner cooked by my chef sister and several fine bottles of wine from the vineyard she was employed by. I didn’t want to be the turd in the punch bowl that night by lobbing climate facts at my boomer aunts and uncles.
Critchton’s book listed dozens of studies that nulled or contested the findings of the majority of the peer reviewed literature on climate. But here’s the breaking point, soon after Charles Koch died ( may his spirit go to a separate and special hell where he gets his skin flayed off of him hourly) information was released that Koch Industries, his conglomerate of coal, construction and other businesses, had retained its own science wing that studied climate in the 90’s and 00’s. Koch industries also funded climate research and ultimately culled or repressed studies that it didn’t agree with if the results were inconvenient for how to run a giant resource gobbling company.
Turns out Koch brothers just played games with science research aimed at elucidating what was really going on by using intimidation, withholding funds, threats and other tactics to make sure the science wing or affiliated scientists were in compliance with Koch brothers’ concepts of climate change. Michael Crichton turns out read a bunch of the Koch coerced research and based a spoof on climate change on the ‘junk science.’
One hundred twenty days is 30 days longer when that ice is melting. More arable land, more high latitude sea channels open to navigation. More disputes over global security between Arctic nations, and somehow all the people living in lower hotter latitudes will need to move and get jobs. They call all leave Central America and walk to Canada.
It’s not fun being right about things like this, but I told them so in the early 90’s.
I thought all that dog and pony stuff happened with those cool kids in Austin?
We Austin kids have been keeping cool.
We've had only two days so far this year when it barely got up to 100 degrees F. Last year we had 24 days at or above 100, with a high of 108. This summer reminds me of when i lived here in the '60s and '70s. Then it went whole years without hitting 100.
And don't forget February when it snowed nearly a foot in places in Texas, went down to 0 and stayed below freezing for a week. The electric grid cratered because gas- and coal-fired power plants froze up, and natural gas pipelines froze, shutting off some power plants that would have worked otherwise.
The governor has been tacking furiously further to the right for fear of losing the Republican primary election, so he said the grid flunked because the wind farms dropped power. They lost some power because they weren't winterized like they are further north.
Texas doesn’t rely on wind in the winter time. The grid could have survived on coal and gas alone if the power plants and gas pipelines had been properly prepared. Mainly gas-coal is down to less than 20% of power in Texas. Some of the coal plants shut down because their coal piles froze after it rained on them, then got cold.
Austin's public water supply went off for days. It was leaking like a sieve due to broken frozen pipes. The electric utility mistakenly cut power to the main purification plant. Nobody knew how to turn on the backup generator. By the time they finally got power back to the purification plant the supply had dropped so low they couldn't keep up pressure. They had to shut down while they refilled the distribution system.
This is not evidence against global warming, as some bonehead Senators would say. It's due to global warming putting big kinks in the jet stream. The polar vortex wobbled way off center, letting arctic air get all the way down to Texas.
While we now bask in balmy temperatures here in Austin, heat waves in Oregon, Washington and British Columbia are igniting wildfires, incinerating crops and killing people.
Two summers ago we had almost 100f which is unheard of for our region, north of us Fairbanks would see that kind of temp but they get a lot more sun hours per day. You couldn't buy a window air conditioner at any price and of course do to the refrigeration details they couldn't be flown up from down in America, only shipped up on a barge. We bought a lot of box fans.
HR
Reminds me of when we lived in Anchorage 1949-51. The population was 25,000 in those days. We bought our groceries at the commissary on Elmendorf Air Force Base, because it was significantly cheaper than the stores in town.
You could get "airborne eggs" or "boat eggs." At times it was only boat eggs. You could really tell the difference. Boat eggs were barely edible. A few times when they were particularly rancid I refused to eat them. My parents saw it as a justifiable choice.
The only milk you could get was frozen. When it was thawed it tended to separate into a watery part and a chalky part. I can still instantly taste milk that has been the least bit frozen, and I will spit it out if there is anywhere to do so.
When we were on our way out, it wasn't worth the trip all the way to the commissary just to pick up a couple of tomatoes and a loaf of bread, so I was sent to the little grocery store around the corner. I forget what the tomatoes cost, but the bread was $1.00 for a loaf. Scandalous!
But there were wild strawbetties, raspberries, cranberries and currants in the summertime. Plenty of strawberries grew in our back yard. Once when we were having guests for dinner in a couple of days Mom cautioned my brother and me to leave them alone. She planned to serve some with whipped cream for desert. On the day of the dinner party she went out to pick strawberries, but there weren't any. My brother and I were unjustly chastised. We swore we hadn't picked them. We were telling the truth. Mom didn't call us liars, but it was clear she didn't believe us.
A week later she watched as Bubba the Boston Terrier made a brief sally outdoors. He didn't like to stay out longer than necessary. It was cold in the winter. In summer the mosquitoes got after him. But after he answered the call of nature, he went to the strawberry patch and scarfed down quite a few. Mom apologized for doubting us.
A five pound rainbow trout baked and basted lightly in garlic butter is some of the finest fish I have ever eaten. Both summers we camped out for a week at a couple of small lakes 120 miles up the highway. The sun came up early. I was the youngest one in the camp, so my job was to catch enough arctic grayling for breakfast. I had to get up a half hour earlier than the rest, and head down to the lake with a spinning rig. Fresh fried fish and cowboy coffee make a great breakfast.
Year before last in Juneau, Anchorage and Talkeetna I ate much better, except no big rainbow trout. Breakfast at the Talkeetna Roadhouse was something to look forward to: an omelette with plenty of fixings, reindeer sausage, toast with home made raspberry butter and hot black coffee.
A five pound rainbow trout baked and basted lightly in garlic butter is some of the finest fish I have ever eaten.
Rainbow trout is, and always has been, my favorite freshwater fish. Prepared correctly, it is delicious. When I was growing up in Arizona, my parents and I would often vacation in trout-fishing waters on the Apache Indian reservation in northeastern Arizona. We caught some large trout there, both lake and stream fishing, and my mother would prepare them for dinner.
My favorite saltwater fish are opakapaka (AKA Hawaiian pink snapper), sole, flounder, and stingray grilled Malay style. but I don't think the taste of any exceeds that of trout. Although each is different, they are all absolutely delicious.
Bill
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And the end of the fight is a tombstone white, With the name of the late deceased, And the epitaph drear, "A fool lies here, Who tried to hustle the East."
I used to fish in the streams and lakes of the Eastern Sierra mts in California. There’s a fine sense of being with a cast iron skillet full of roasting potatoes, and another with trout and eggs frying in salt, pepper and butter.
Once I caught a huge trout and we nicknamed it the Bismarck after the battleship. But this was an early evening catch and required being roasted in hot coals while wrapped in a blanket of aluminum foil. On that trip I was accompanying a teacher friend who took his 11th grade class in a three day wilderness trip so along with the pack mules supplies for the kids, he packed steaks, potatoes, carrots and a bottle or two of Scotch.
We set the kids camp up 500 yards away with the young adult monitors and set up the teachers camp by the lake. It was in the Immigrant Gap National Preserve. We were obliged by the distance from the kids camp and my catch of the Bismarck to drink scotch while the steaks and potatoes cooked along with the cetacean sized rainbow.
I’ll I remember is I got drunk and lurched forward while laughing at a story, and then two other teachers grabbed me before I did a gymnastics move into a huge pyromaniac worthy camp fire.
There were also bottles of wine, we were civilized after all.
The conjunction of whisky and camping can lead to unforeseen consequences.
When I was nine or ten years old I went with a group of older male relatives to South Padre Island. In those days nobody lived there. The only way to get there was by boat. We went in a flotilla of wooden skiffs, some rowed, others with little putt-putt outboards. Established custom dictated that the only supplies brought along were coffee, salt, cornmeal for breading fish to fry, bacon, a few bottles of Bourbon and Scotch, and some 5-gallon cans of fresh water. There was no fresh water at all on the island.
We pitched camp, and broke out eight-foot seins with poles at each end. On the bay side the water was shallow and calm, with patches of grassy seaweed. You seined for grass shrimp to bait trotlines. Nobody ate grass shrimp.
A trotline is a line of poles stuck in the bottom in shallow water, spaced 20 or 30 feet apart. A line is strung along the tops of the poles, shorter lines with baited hooks hang down from it into the water. Floats are attached to the baited lines, leaving a little slack in them above the water surface.
The next morning we had bacon, cornmeal hushpuppies and coffee for breakfast, then boarded boats to run the trotlines. The fish weren't biting. We came up with only a half dozen small fish to feed a crew of ten.
The fish shortage persisted for a couple of days. Though there was a strong ethic against complaining, people began to comment on our bad luck.
There were feral razorback hogs on the island. How they made a living is still beyond me, but they seemed to make out okay. Around the driftwood campfire one night, while some whisky was being drunk, my father's younger brother began to talk about how good some barbecued pork ribs would be. We weren't going hungry, but bacon, hushpuppies, a mouthful or two of fried fish, and water were getting monotonous. Nobody took Uncle Cecil's pork talk seriously. In fact, a few teased him a little.
After maybe three glasses of whisky Cecil decided it was time to silence the scoffers by taking action. When I saw him go into his tent and come back out with his pistol I knew what was up and asked whether I could go along. He said I could, as long as I promised to do as I was told.
It was a bright moonlit night. It didn't take long to find where the herd of hogs had bunked down. We approached from the west, against the sea breeze, and laid down behind a low sand dune at fairly close range. Like the rest of the men in the group, Cecil was an expert shot. He drew his Colt Peacemaker, chambered for the powerful .45 Long Colt cartridge, took aim at a promising shoat, and nailed it with one shot.
Our satisfaction didn't last long. We had not foreseen the hogs' reaction to our killing one of their offspring. They didn't like it. They had no trouble figuring out where we were and charged.
Hogs are very dangerous. A single boar can kill a person. A whole herd of enraged pigs will strike fear deeply in the boldest of hunters. There were no trees to climb on Padre Island. We took off running as fast as we could.
We were barefoot. The entire island is nothing but sand. It is much easier to walk barefoot in loose sand than it is while shod. Even though we could see patches of goat head stickers in the bright moonlight we didn't swerve to avoid them. A serious defect in our strategy was that in our shock and surprise, we didn't think of running anywhere except back to camp. At least we shouted warnings as we approached.
Presently the whole group were standing shoulder deep in the bay, watching as the hogs finished energetically destroying the camp.
Grandpa was a pillar of the church. He never swore. But that night he turned to my uncle and said, "Cecil, what the hell were you thinking?"
Damn Richard, what a hoot! My mouth was watering though, crispy young pork under a star lit sky. Mmm.
HR
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I prefer my flamenco guitar spicy, doesn't have to be fast, should have some meat on the bones, can be raw or well done, as long as it doesn't sound like it's turning green on an elevator floor.
Fish get big in alaska. Rainbows north of thirty sexy inches. We call them Hogs.
I never really fish, I look at stones and reflect on life as the sun dances off the water.
One evening I tell my Upik lady friend I'm going out fishing, I reach for the knife and she chuckles in her sing song native way, what are you going to do with that? I'm going to clean the fish I tell her. More laughter.
Anyway I'm tossing a treble hook spinner, a fat spoon of black with salmon egg red dots, Mepps #6 or something like that. About an hour later girl comes down the beach on our old honda, local speak for Honda four wheel drive, an old blue 250 if I recall. We were twenty-five miles up the winding Kvechak River in western Alaska, the Bristol bay. The river is still tidal up this high and depending on the the moon can drop ten feet or more so there is a wide beach half the day. Girl drives by and laughs again heading upriver to look for artifacts, lithic tools up to seven thousand years old we find washed out of the banks and cliffs after a high tide or good rain squall.
I see girl stop about a quarter mile upriver half way around a sweeping bend. Wonder what she's found. Zzzzziiiipppp... I won't go into the details but I beach a thirty-eight inch rainbow trout, bigger then most of the Kvechak "slab" sockeye we catch later in the year. I take a double fist sized rock and stun the monster so I can get a grip on him. Not sure why but I had left that knife in its leather scabbard up the beach about twenty steps. ****. I decide I want to rinse the sand off of grandpa first, turns out my gal had seen him around a few years running and had named him. I put my fingers in his mouth and through his gills and wade a couple steps into the clear water, bend over and swish this monster three times and as if it was a magic incantation the water explodes before me, grandpa rips the flesh of my fingers and swims away.
Girl rides back about then and in her stoic Upik nature askes, what was all that whooping and hollering about. Nothing a say. Why are your fingers all bloody she asks. Oh it's nothing I tell her. We laugh and head up to the cabin, open a jar of her smoke fish, pull out some butter and pilot bread and cheese from the larder and I tell a many told story for the first time.
HR
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I prefer my flamenco guitar spicy, doesn't have to be fast, should have some meat on the bones, can be raw or well done, as long as it doesn't sound like it's turning green on an elevator floor.
My uncle Max started the Outdoorsman sporting goods shop in Bishop. I fished all the lakes and streams up to eight thousand foot ponds. Brown trout in the Owens River and lake Crawly (i think that's the one). Brookies in foot wide streams couple thousand feet up Mnt Whitny. And searched and searched for the golden trout in countless unnamed lakes above the tree line using WPA trails carved in solid granit during the '30s. I'm quorter Paiute and this is their country although my grandfather's people was from much further south.
Always thought when I get old I would like to end my days in the Owens Vally...
HR
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I prefer my flamenco guitar spicy, doesn't have to be fast, should have some meat on the bones, can be raw or well done, as long as it doesn't sound like it's turning green on an elevator floor.
You should meet my friend Cliff, he’s a native from Nevada who works for the intertribal council of Nevada state, except he’s not as cool as you are because he doesn’t fish.
I have I connection to that area, I’d like to see it again. But you really F-ed up, big trout are like barracuda. You kinda what you deserved, 😂- you know a pan size trout is tastier anyway.
I did catch a Golden Trout, and native cutthroat. They call 395 the trout hwy.
quorter Paiute and this is their country although my grandfather's people was from much further south.
I’m born in San Bernardino, which is Cahuilla land. Is your ancestor Chimihuevi or Cahuilla? I worked for a guy who is Cahuilla and I told him about my early childhood encounters with native people in the northeast part of the city. He said you have a sympathy or a relationship with the people from the area you were born in. Or I was just a child who wasn’t influenced by white thinking yet. My dad was an artist and he wanted to look at a native graveyard, not for exploitive reasons, but for his own curiosity. It was honest curiosity, but I told him in the moment when it was 4 that it wasn’t justified curiosity and that we should leave. Some native kids chased us out and threw rocks at our car. I never forget that they felt trespassed. And I think now that if I explained what he was trying to understand that I’d be granted access as far as I needed to understand. And that access really was given to me when I was 26. A group of natives tending a graveyard took me along.
Stephan, It's complicated, my fathers father was raised in a Catholic orphanage from a baby, named Moses by the nuns, the orphanage and all its records burned in the mid thirties. His parents died in 1918 and ironically I assumed many years ago they perished as victims of the so called Spanish flue which do to its reactive nature with the strong immune system spared the infants and elderly.
My grandfather became a successful dairy farmer after World War Two, a millionaire actually, when the time came for native Americans to "register" he declined, he felt he had worked hard to succeed and didn't want his offspring to be shackled by the crutch of " Indian monies" dolled out by a federal system. It was all a lot more complicated then that and I don't have a firm grasp of the history or facts. Years later when his grandkids approached collage age and needed monies to enroll he was once again approached and asked to register but he declined for the same reasons. Work hard he said, this is America, work hard and earn your rights in this country. All but one of his nine offspring did just that. I won't judge my grandfather cause I can't he had so many great qualities but he knew he wasn't perfect. He worked hard until his last week when he laid down and said at last, I'm tired. Doctors were consulted and they said, it's time, he is at peace and wants to slip away. Five days later he did, after eighty seven years, in his own bed.
I had heard he might have been Cahuilla but my father suggested Agua Caliente as he was thought to have come from the Palm Springs area. The family stories seem to shift here and there and there is no certainty in any of it I'm afraid.
My grandfather owned the last dairy in LA county and gave it to the eldest son who lost it to a bank nine months later. The family spits his name whenever mentioned and his epitaph is The Fat Man, we never use his real name.
We grew up mostly poor in Norco and my dad worked the dairies milking cows in Chino as a young father, we did have cows and pigs and horses so we were rich in many ways most today never know. "Fill up on beans" was a standard retort to one of my siblings reaching for another piece of chicken or a tortilla. I feel fortunate even if our life wasn't ideal. I learned so much about the quality of life, hungry enough to relish the taste of simple foods or simple experiences.
My first experience with a native community was a friend I made while going to airplane mechanic school in Tulsa, don't recall what tribe but he invited me to a thanksgiving potlatch held on a farm out in some flatlands to the west if I recall. The details are unimportant but the feeling will stay with me forever even if I can never put it to words. Belonging?
HR
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I prefer my flamenco guitar spicy, doesn't have to be fast, should have some meat on the bones, can be raw or well done, as long as it doesn't sound like it's turning green on an elevator floor.
You should meet my friend Cliff, he’s a native from Nevada who works for the intertribal council of Nevada state, except he’s not as cool as you are because he doesn’t fish.
I have I connection to that area, I’d like to see it again. But you really F-ed up, big trout are like barracuda. You kinda what you deserved, 😂- you know a pan size trout is tastier anyway.
I did catch a Golden Trout, and native cutthroat. They call 395 the trout hwy.
Ya, your right, wanting to cut up that monster trout, Grandpa, was all ego. Him slicing my fingers and splashing my face was his karmic FU.
Hope he milted up a million more eggs before he was washed out to sea...
HR
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I prefer my flamenco guitar spicy, doesn't have to be fast, should have some meat on the bones, can be raw or well done, as long as it doesn't sound like it's turning green on an elevator floor.
I winced internally and kept my mouth shut because we were about to sit down to a dinner cooked by my chef sister and several fine bottles of wine from the vineyard she was employed by. I didn’t want to be the turd in the punch bowl that night by lobbing climate facts at my boomer aunts and uncles.
I know I’m preaching to choir here, but I am all for nipping in the bud these junk science misconceptions friends and family have, cuz they deserve to be educated in a non condescending way. I had two college professors that were on either side so, never sure which one had the correct conclusion based on real evidence, so it wasn’t until I found potholers videos that I got the clear picture why this issue is problematic. He does the work I was too lazy to do. The irony is the issue about climate change SHOULD be a conservative issue. A lot of blame falls to Al Gore imo.
Notice how both political sides were bothered by that video, which is great imo.
We're very lucky to be alive today. Sadly, the situation is going to get worse for the next generation, etc.
Sorry but the way I see it, the solutions are easily achievable once the financial benefits are realized and the problem is removed from political debate arenas.
Yeah, but the idea is that corruption overpowers all of that, so the trajectory is very likely going to continue moving in the wrong direction for another couple of generations and decimate them before THEN perhaps when the ultra-rich that control the world start getting really irked because even their money isn't keeping them cool, THEN perhaps we'll start to see some traction. We'll be long gone by then, though...
I winced internally and kept my mouth shut because we were about to sit down to a dinner cooked by my chef sister and several fine bottles of wine from the vineyard she was employed by. I didn’t want to be the turd in the punch bowl that night by lobbing climate facts at my boomer aunts and uncles.
I know I’m preaching to choir here, but I am all for nipping in the bud these junk science misconceptions friends and family have, cuz they deserve to be educated in a non con
These relatives were hearing my thoughts on global warming as early as 1988 when I came back from a semester in Micronesia and realized some atolls will have to be evacuated of human habitation. These thoughts of mine were not new or unfamiliar to them in 2013 when this dinner took place.
The problem with creating new systems of energy isn’t corruption, it’s lack of political will on the part of conservative voters. The US Postal Service motor fleet was slated to be converted to all electric except for some heavy truck vessels. It should have been accomplished by now, but Mitch McConnell led senate republicans to kill it.
Get rid of the white trash conservative old boys in the senate and win a majority that is filibuster proof and the environmental and healthcare issues will get addressed in 6 months.
Yesterday the Senate passed the Infrastructure Bill which President Biden will sign. This is a historic bill which was agreed upon by the majority of the Senate except for the 38 most backward members which include the bastard McConnell. The next bill coming up is the other infrastructure bill which will pass the senate with a technical rules avoidance of the filibuster called Budget Reconciliation ( invented by Nixon era senate, ironically)
The difference between these two infrastructure plans is this: plan that just passed is about hard infrastructure, bridges, roads, water supplies that the Trump administration kicked down the road. They left it as deferred maintenance to the next administration. Both senate republicans and democrats worked on this bill because everyone realized we need to update how infrastructure supports new energy systems and we need to spend money repairing what hard infrastructure there is before it gets too expensive. Sixty percent of Americans agree with this, it’s probably more like over seventy percent. Enough republicans broke with McConnell to pass this. It’s historic.
Second infrastructure bill is also wildly popular with the public, over 70% agree, this bill addresses human infrastructure issues that senate republicans do not consider important. It also addresses climate change and mitigation of climate liability problems with energy. It gives money to upgrade and develop new technology and purposeful infrastructure for technology we already have to be out into operation. It gives money to childcare facilities, republicans don’t think child care is infrastructure, but it is. This new bill funds two free years of community college for everyone.
This is where the culture is today, the naysayers are in the minority and because of the way republicans have gamed voting districts they still control more territory than they should in the senate. The population is against them. We don’t have a corruption problem, we have a problem with the minority of conservatives electing more than their share of representation in the Senate with a filibuster rule that ensures this old guard can block progress.
We should already have an electric fleet of USPS trucks, but the senate republicans stopped it. You want progress, get rid of Mitch McConnell and and the 30 other bastards like him.
ORIGINAL: estebanana <snip> This is a historic bill which was agreed upon by the majority of the Senate except for the 38 most backward members which include the bastard McConnell. <snip> We should already have an electric fleet of USPS trucks, but the senate republicans stopped it. You want progress, get rid of Mitch McConnell and and the 30 other bastards like him.
Whatever McConnell's earlier position may have been, it says here
He changed his position at the vote. But he’s still the biggest impediment to progress in the senate. McConnell hates trump and he’s not going to run for re-election in 2026 so he must have brought something for Kentucky- more broadband to poor whites? So he can feed them more koolaid.
The 30 senate republicans who voted against, the usual foot draggers. Some of them are still carrying Trumps water. Fools.