This is probably a good spot to describe the general scene I encountered at these “First Tuesday of the Month Meeting of the (insert county name) Republicans” meetings, though I doubt I’m a talented enough writer to accurately capture the true essence of them. These gatherings should really be in one of those 100 Things You Must Do Before You Die books.

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You must first understand that for dyed-in-the-wool Republicans in East Texas — and I know and LOVE many, especially those in my family! — these meetings are second in importance only to church services.

 

It’s serious business and the agenda rarely wavers from its order:  anti-abortion petition, anti-gay marriage petition, anti-prayer in school ban petition and last, but certainly the most fun, Democrat-bashing (which, because it’s encouraged at any point during the meeting, doesn’t really have a set place on the program).

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The focal point of the room — generally located in a courthouse basement, bank community room or, of course, a church — is the table that holds the food which: 1) is flanked by the United States flag on the left and the Texas flag on the right; 2) is draped with a plastic red, white and blue tablecloth decorated with stars and stripes; and 3) holds the pimento cheese sandwiches, the potato salad, and the sugar cookies that have been covered with red, white and blue sprinkles.  Even before the prayer or the pledge, the participants of the meeting go through that table like Grant through Richmond.

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Sometimes these meetings get really entertaining, mainly because they become contentious in some way.  Once there was almost a fistfight when one local treasurer suggested that the monthly meeting be moved from the Mexican restaurant to the fish place since, being a buffet, a tip would no longer be required.  

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Another fun night was an election bake sale, a popular event highlighted by an auction of each candidate’s “homemade” baked goods. Thank goodness for my precious grandmother who armed me with three pecan pies and a pound cake that killed.  

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This night, one of the candidates for sheriff accused his opponent of killing his dog with a shotgun and another announced that the incumbent’s son was the biggest drug dealer in the entire county.  Both revelations caused the entire crowd to erupt in — depending on their take on the situation — fierce applause, feigned disbelief, or obvious delight that they were finally going to see some action. 

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Although this was infinitely more entertaining than Grandpa Joe reading the entire Declaration of Independence — which we had endured the previous week — there were two additional components of the meeting that upped the ante:  1) There was a full bar set up in the back (an interesting but, as far as I was concerned, very welcomed development given that this was a dry county), and 2) Several of those attending were carrying a variety of weapons, which included an exposed machete strapped to one of the candidate’s legs.

 

To be fair, this particular individual was questioned about the machete when he arrived, but he assured everyone that, although it had been dark for nearly two hours, he had come straight to the meeting from clearing brush.  Everyone seemed content with that answer until his eighth Johnnie Walker on the rocks happened to coincide with that nasty little accusation about the dog.

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So, hopefully you have a visual of the scene unfolding at one of those meetings with the angry people saying racist things.  As I outlined my brilliant plans for infrastructure and national security, a KKK fossil < I'm not just arbitrarily accusing him of this; I was good friends with his daughter growing up and he actually was in the KKK > stood up and made the most disgusting, bigoted comments imaginable.  As one who doesn’t sugarcoat hideous behavior for fear of enabling it, I originally had the entire statement written here.  But in the end, I couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing it in print. 

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After his moment of glory and amid the appreciative high-fives of his fellow wannabe Klansmen, he heroically sauntered to the plastic tablecloth-covered food table and filled his plastic plate with plastic tasting green bean casserole (okay, that last one was harsh).  

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Somewhat recovered from the meeting of the plantation brotherhood, I bravely forged onward.  

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At the time, the Texas 2nd district was composed of 19 counties.  You may remember this as the district of Congressman Charlie Wilson who, in one of the largest CIA covert operations in history, armed half of Afghanistan to help defeat the Soviets in the 1980s.  He was also a player.  If you have read or seen Charlie Wilson’s War and therefore know the dirt, Charlie’s onetime girlfriend and Playboy cover girl is my fourth cousin, but that’s another story.  

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The fact that “Good-Time Charlie” had been the congressman for this district was a source of immense comfort to me.  Although I was nervous about some of the skeletons in my closet, nothing I had done compared with driving drunk and leaving the scene of an accident I caused or snorting cocaine with strippers in a hot tub in Vegas (or I guess I should say, nothing that I can remember or there is photographic evidence of).  Heck, if these constituents forgave Charlie for all of that while he was actually in Congress, they may at least consider giving me a pass on Harvard and other such indiscretions.

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I never got the chance to find out.  Little did we know that the 2nd district was about to be obliterated by the worst and most dangerous Texas Legislature in history.  After securing a majority in the state legislature in 2002, and in an effort to unseat all of the state’s “Anglo Democrats,” the Texas Republicans launched a ferocious redistricting campaign to redraw the U.S. Congressional districts in their party’s favor. 

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Every ten years, the U.S. Census Bureau conducts a census and uses the data to assign each state the number of seats it will have in the U.S. House of Representatives for the next ten years.  Individual states then draw legislative boundaries for congressional districts and state legislative districts.  This process is conducted by the state legislature in some states, while a few states use independent commissions.  In Texas, the state legislature is responsible for drawing U.S. Congressional districts. 

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Despite the fact that congressional redistricting in Texas had occurred once every ten years for over a century, the Texas Republicans were now hell-bent on redrawing lines that had been approved by the legislature just two years earlier.

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In its purest form, redistricting gives states the ability to appropriately respond to population shifts and to ensure that no geographic area is underrepresented.  Unfortunately, opportunist politicians have kidnapped the system and have made the despicable habit of drawing districts for competitive advantage standard operating procedure.  Sophisticated voter profiling and a significant advancement in mapping technology allow legislators to essentially pick and choose the voters that will ensure their party’s victory. 

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The prevailing system in most states is railroaded by partisan collusion and protects the interest of political parties to the detriment of the American citizen.  Redistricting (to revise legislative districts) is certainly legal, but gerrymandering (to divide an area into election districts to give one political party an electoral majority while concentrating the voting strength of the opposition in as few districts as possible) is absolutely not.

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Gerrymandering is one of the most blatant abuses of power in government and is a perfect example of partisan politics at its very worst.  Its tentacles poison far more than just an election or two; gerrymandering is the breeding ground for the deep ideological split between Republicans and Democrats in Washington.  Read more here.

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It is a rare occurrence when an unconstrained, freethinking candidate actually makes it through this mess, because these fabricated districts are drawn specifically to capture the crazed party faithful.  And the crazed party faithful demand likeminded candidates.  Therefore, the possibility of a moderate candidate is largely eliminated, and the vast majority of this country is silenced.

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The Texas redistricting battle was horrifying to watch.  The stories that spewed from my great state warmed my heart with pride: legislative sessions erupted into fistfights, multiple lawsuits tied-up every level of the court system, and Republicans atrociously abused their power while Democrats shamelessly fled to other states to avoid a final vote.  

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In a dazzling display of failed leadership, Governor Rick Perry called three special legislative sessions — each at an astronomical cost to the state — to help his fellow Republicans manipulate the new map (don’t even get me started on this guy).  

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To make the situation far more deadly, this ridiculousness happened while Texas was in absolute peril.  At the beginning of the legislative session, Texas had a $10 billion budget deficit, a legislative typo delayed $800 million in school funding, and 60 schools were suing Texas over a $26 billion school finance disaster.  Seems to me these people shouldn’t have so much time on their hands.

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In the end, the Texas delegation in the United States House of Representatives shifted from 17 to 15 in favor of the Democrats to 21 to 11 in favor of the Republicans. 

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One of the many lawsuits that challenged the Texas Legislature’s redistricting plan was eventually heard by the U.S. Supreme Court and, despite overruling one of the districts as racial gerrymandering, the conservative-leaning court upheld the statewide redistricting as Constitutional…a decision that is perplexing given that the Republican’s new map was as convoluted as an inkblot in the Rorschach test.

 

The majority of the members of the 2003 Texas Legislature should be seriously ashamed and owe every Texan an apology for their dereliction of duty.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  This is, after all, the state that unanimously passed a motion to commemorate the “heroic actions” of the Boston Strangler, a motion that a jokester member of the state legislature introduced to prove that his colleagues continually passed legislation without even reading it.  

 

Eight weeks before the 2004 primary election, after campaigning for months in the 2nd district, I suddenly found myself in the newly scrambled 1st district with only three of my original 19 counties going with me.  

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If you think this ticked me off, think how Jim Turner must have felt.  Jim had been the congressman for these 19 counties for eight years and with one stroke of the pen, his constituents were scattered among three newly drawn districts.  Since gerrymandering virtually ensured his defeat, Jim decided not to run for re-election.  

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Democrat Max Sandlin, who had represented the 1st district for four terms, did decide to run, though the Texas Republicans had ultimately sealed his fate as well. Now that the votes were completely stacked in his favor, whoever won the Republican primary would be the next congressional representative for the newly drawn 1st congressional district. 

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Forced into a new district with only two months to go, I went from a non-contested primary to a race with five opponents, including a judge, a lawyer, a doctor and a sitting state legislator named Wayne Christian (whose last name is incredibly ironic).  All were, typically, ultra-conservative White men. 

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Although redistricting killed any chance I had to win, this part of the campaign was a complete blast.  Freed by the absolute certainty of defeat, I could say anything I damned well pleased, and being in Congress was becoming less and less appealing anyway.

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The day of the election dawned and, predictably, I got clobbered.  Louie Gohmert (yes, you read that right) won the primary and went on to win the general election against Max Sandlin.  < then went on to try to help destroy our democracy, but we’ll discuss that in other sections >

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I honestly didn’t care who won as long as it wasn’t Wayne Christian.  Now listen, lots can happen in almost two decades, and God can absolutely work miracles in people’s hearts.  But at the time, I found Wayne to be the stereotypical self-serving politician straight out of central casting, whose only mission is to manipulate the political arena for his own personal agenda.

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The two of us went round-after-round during the campaign, which I enjoyed immensely and remains a highlight of the experience.  Word on the street is that, even after all these years, Wayne’s face gets as red as a cherry tomato when he hears my name.  Needless to say, he doesn’t like me very much which I take as a compliment.

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Wayne was a member of the aforementioned Texas Legislature and led the fight (surprise, surprise) to redraw the districts.  He made it no secret that he and then House Majority Leader Tom DeLay drew the new Texas 1st district just for him, although these days he isn’t quite as vocal about it given his buddy DeLay’s criminal conviction for money-laundering (or after what DeLay should have actually gone to prison for, his Dancing With the Stars appearance).

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Two of Wayne’s favorite sayings — and believe me, we heard them ten thousand times during the campaign — were something to the effect of “the only thing our kids need to succeed is a Christian mommy and daddy who live in the same house” and always a crowd favorite, “God made Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve.”

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Interestingly enough, Wayne never outlined his ten-point plan on how to miraculously give every child a Christian mommy and daddy who live in the same house.  Maybe he has a clone factory somewhere.  

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In any event. I’m still suspicious that Wayne is the creator of the bumper sticker, usually stuck opposite a Peeing Calvin decal, “If you can’t feed ‘em don’t breed ‘em.”  But I digress.