We have another one. Another what, you say. Well, of course, another casualty of the me2 movement. I have opined on it before, and there are good and bad things about it. The best thing is that people are finally giving some thought to the issue of bad behavior by powerful men. Mainly sexual behavior against women, although Kevin Spacey has been accused of sexual misbehavior toward males. Rep. Keith Ellison, D-MO, has been accused by

The Keith Ellison she said-he said: She goes on TV, he denies abuse allegations, goes door-knocking

a former girlfriend of physical and verbal abuse. There has been deafening silence from most on the left. They are still smarting from the removal of Sen. Al Franken from the same state for sexual misbehavior that did not, however, involve violent assault.

Rep. Keith Ellison is a steward of the progressive, Bernie Sanders wing of the Democratic party. He is also a Muslim. The Islamic religion is not famous for its fair and equal treatment of women. Even so, I don’t think that should be a factor in deciding Ellison’s fate. There are many, many Muslim men who don’t drag their women by the ankle shouting obscenities, as Ellison is accused of doing. When deciding on the veracity of such an accusation, one must look at the demeanor and credibility of the accuser. The woman is apparently a good, responsible person with nothing to gain by putting herself in the spotlight. I have read some articles that say, well, she wasn’t injured. That infuriates me. A person doesn’t have to be either dead or seriously injured to be a victim of domestic assault.

There are different standards in a court of law. In these types of situations, I like to compare them to a civil court. A criminal court requires proof beyond a reasonable doubt. That’s why you have sly defense attorneys trying to poke holes in law enforcement procedures (see the acquittal of O.J. Simpson). But civil court is governed by a preponderance of the evidence. If it is more likely true than untrue, the case is decided in favor of the more likely scenario. Likewise for the reverse. I have every reason to believe Ellison’s former girlfriend, and zero reason to believe Ellison’s self-serving arguments to stay in his powerful job.

Keith Ellison is a lawyer. Maybe after he resigns from the House, he can do some pro bono work for women’s rights groups. That would be a good start on his way to a better life, and to being a better Muslim.

Hi there, fellow humans. I have had a case of writer’s block for the past few weeks. I had a hard time thinking of something new to write. I’m sure I’m not the only blogger who has run into the problem, especially if you specialize in contemporary politics. There are only so many ways to say that you despise our current president #45, as well as his congressional supporters who refuse to do their jobs as a check on the executive. It is beyond belief. The right-wing “freedom caucus” composed of nuts, conspiracy theorists and alleged rape-enablers, this group of gentlemen would have opened up an investigation on a President Clinton (either one) if they spit on a sidewalk. But they ignore the blatant criminality and possible traitorous behavior of #45. The disgust and anger I have towards this bunch of evil clowns is palpable and unhelpful to my general well-being. So I thought I would go in a different direction today.

My favorite hobby that involves actually going outside and doing something is motorcycle riding. I started my two-wheel career as a grade-schooler. I owned a minibike, which were quite popular with kids at the time. They ran on lawnmower-type engines, and had a maximum speed of perhaps 20 mph. I used to ride with my sociopathic former neighbor, whose family occupied the last house on our dead-end road. He was a bully, not a big boy, but an athlete and a very good baseball pitcher, who would throw objects at his playmates. A fun guy. If I knew then what I know now, I would have stayed the hell away from him. But when you are a kid, you, or at least I, thought that everybody was smarter than me, and that if I was allowed to play with Billy, he must be okay. We raced our bikes up and down our dirt street, and around his property, which included a large field. I am surprised that he didn’t try to run into me like he did when we rode bicycles, but I guess he knew that it would damage his vehicle as much as mine.

Eventually I sold my minibike. I honestly don’t remember why, but I do remember selling it. I was so nervous when the buyer, a kid and his dad, came over, but they were so nice, and they bought it for $150, which was pretty good money then. A few years later, I bought a Suzuki from a local classmate, whose father had a garage in the Jefferson section of town. The bike they sold me, I forget the price, had a gas leak in the carburetor at the choke button, and had exhaust pipes half-falling off. I made do with that for about a year. Then I bought a Harley-Davidson 350 Sprint. I forgot what the model year was, but I bought it in 1974. It was manufactured during a dark chapter of H-D history, when the company was owned by AMF Industries, the company that operates ten-pin bowling recreation centers. That bike was the first bike that I had that I registered for street use. I was crazy. I had my motorcycle license before I had my car license, so I used to ride it year round. I remember riding it in downtown Worcester, near the old Lincoln Square rotary, when there was snow and ice on the ground. I never got in a bad accident; I guess I was lucky. I do remember once, pulling into a package store parking lot to buy some beer, when I didn’t make the turn into the driveway and hit a large wooden curb, did a somersault, and landed on my butt in a pile of wood chips. No harm done to me or the bike. I eventually sold the bike to the shift foreman I worked for at the old Worcester Moulded Plastics (yes, that’s how they spelled the name). And that last accident foreshadowed a period in my life when it was just as well that I didn’t ride a motorcycle. But I always kept the “M” endorsement on my license, for a modest fee at renewal time.

Fast forward to 2004. I had been a safe driver for a while, but I had just felt that getting a motorcycle was a bridge too far. Insurance, registration, excise taxes, maintenance costs, all that stuff kept me from resuming my motorcycle career for a long time. But in the early ’00s, I had an elderly relative who died, leaving a substantial estate. I didn’t get rich, but I got to the point where I felt able to take on the additional expense of a hobby that costs money. I am on my fourth Harley. I bought them all new, at the same place in Auburn, and traded up each time to something better. The only regret I have is trading in my 1200cc Sportster. That was a good bike for speed and sharp turns. The Harley I have now, a Wide Glide, is a beautiful machine, but it isn’t built for the same kind of riding that the Sportster was and is. At some point I can imagine myself possibly buying a less-expensive smaller bike for just that kind of hair-raising riding.

But you knew that, at some point, I would get back to politics. And so I am. My preferred brand, Harley-Davidson, has had its image soiled by various right-wing figures who have sought to trade on the Harley name to enhance their image. Part of it is Harley’s fault. Back in the early 1960s, Harley was the preferred brand of motorcycle one percenter clubs, and that outlaw image, the rebel vibe, sold a lot of Harleys. But the H-D marketers were kind of sly, and gave the outlaw clubs the shaft. They have rebranded Harley as a family-friendly bike, made in America, but with just enough outlaw cred stolen from the people they threw under the bus, like Sonny Barger, the famous Hells Angels former chapter president and oldest known living member. Instead of emphasizing the outlaw image, Harley highlights its American roots. Sonny, for his part, says he would rather have ridden a BMW or a Honda than a Harley. That’s cool. Last I knew, Barger rode a Polaris Victory bike, another American-made machine, but Polaris has since discontinued its Victory line in order to concentrate on their flagship Indian brand, which they rescued from obscurity after being dropped twice before.

So I don’t care all that much for Harley’s current image, which is somewhere between being a family-friendly bike for the rich who like to play outlaw in 70 degree weather on Sundays. But Harley was my first street-legal bike, and I like the fact that they are primarily made in America, and I am loyal to my favorite brands.

So screw what anybody thinks. If people want to think I’m: a) a right-wing gladiator; b) a pretend outlaw on weekends; or c) a brainless clown, let them. I like freedom as a concept and as a reality. And by freedom, I don’t mean right-wing freedom like the “cover-up caucus” in the Republican House claims for itself, nor the kind of freedom Ronald Reagan propagated, meaning the freedom of the wealthy to hoard their money and not help those less fortunate, nor the freedom the current administration favors which allows companies the freedom to pollute our air and water, nor the freedom the current administration wants to give the banks, to take advantage of the little guy without restraint or consequence. That junk isn’t freedom. That is Darwinism, survival of the fittest, “let the richest, whitest, most cutthroat, lawless man win”. That isn’t freedom. The freedom I get riding my Harley can’t be duplicated, nor can it be politicized. It is my freedom to ride the wind, to let my tension wind down like a coiled spring unwinding, and to make my bad day good, or my good day better. No harm, no foul, only peace and freedom.