from Mr. Dilettante’s Neighborhood by Mark Heuring
The Veepstakes is always an amusing thing, especially since no one outside of the candidate really knows. In the last cycle I guessed right on John McCain’s pick of Sarah Palin, but I claim no special insight in the matter.
from Tim Droogsma’s Blog
Minnesota senators Amy Klobuchar and Al Franken joined several dozens of their colleagues in voting to say that yes, government needs to put limits on how much you succeed.
from mnpACT! Progressive Political Blog by Dave Mindeman
Well, with all due respect Mr. Graves, nobody….I mean nobody would begrudge you for “buying” this one…..if that is possible.
from MN Publius by Jeff Rosenberg
Minnesota Congressman Erik Paulsen has a major conflict of interest, and his recent actions have the appearance of impropriety big-time. He didn’t just vote on legislation he has a financial interest in, he sponsored it.
from Wry Wing Politics by Joe Loveland
…in 2012 I’d argue “all politics is local” is dumb strategy for for DFL legislative candidates. This year, the Minnesota DFL should use more of a statewide messaging and media strategy than they typically do.
from Barataria by Erik Hare
There would be upward mobility, where family circumstances do not determine the kids’ future. People could find their own way according to their own talents and choices as to what makes a good life. Money would rarely limit dreams, as a free-flowing capital market would provide funding for good ideas at reasonable rates. Most would own their own homes and have control over their own destiny. Workers would own the company they work for, banking their retirement at a reasonable age on the place that they helped build. Basics like food and access to health care would not be expensive.
Such a place is the embodiment of pieces of both the Democratic and Republican parties in odd turns. This place of the imagination is also pretty close to the perfect state envisioned by Karl Marx.
from Minnesota Prairie Roots by Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Plucking berries is the easy part. I’d rather creep between rows, back bent to the sky, than stand in the kitchen for hours washing, hulling, slicing and finally bagging berries. I’d rather chat with other berry pickers—including the young family next to us and the Florida retiree recently returned to his native Minnesota—than shut myself away in the kitchen on a gorgeous summer afternoon.
But such is the destiny of the berry picker.