Joy, Hope, and Humbug by Clay Jones

The Democrats are offering joy and hope while Trump offers doom and gloom Read on Substack

(I’m sharing in full because he doesn’t write this stuff on WordPress anymore, though he publishes the toons. This one is particularly funny and timely, so it goes here.)

Tuesday was better than Monday for me here in Chicago. I didn’t get food poisoned or crack my head open on Tuesday. Yay.

In fact, I felt really good. Despite feeling like I’d rather have a salad, I went out and got some Chicago deep dish (more on that later today), I took a nap, and then I headed to the convention earlier than I did Monday.

I took the L on the Orange line, transferred to the Green line, and got off at Ashland, walked down the street, and landed smack-dab in the group of RFK Jr supporters.

I wanted to see what they were up to because they were being pretty noisy but there wasn’t many of them. When I walked up, they all started laughing and started shouting something about the bear. What bear? I had momentarily forgotten about RFK Jr’s confessions of dumping a bear carcass in Central Park. I had also forgotten I was wearing a Taylor guitar shirt with a bear on it. And for some reason, one of the RFK Jr people, a crazy lady, had decided I was someone important enough to be lobbied.

May be an image of 6 people, crowd and text — RFK Jr fuckers defacing posters of Kamala Harris on Ashland

She started talking about Kennedy being censored and even without me arguing with her, proceeded to follow me down the street for the next three blocks. I kept asking her, “Don’t you need to go back to your friends?” Nope, she just kept following me talking shit about vaccines and herbicides.

And each time I asked if it was her group that defaced some Kamala Harris posters, she’d ignore the question and launch into more conspiracy shit.

Libertarians are just as bad. Start a conversation with a Libertarian and see what happens. I dare ya!

I eventually ditched the Kennedy lady by running away, hopping over some bushes, running through a backyard and a Taco Bell drive-thru, and then hiding behind a garbage can where I stayed until after she ran by screaming, “Mr, I haven’t told you about chemtrails yet.” No, what I actually did was say to her, “Well, I’m just going to try to keep walking away from you until you take the hint” and two blocks later, she finally gave up.

Then I found the Billy Goat Tavern.

May be an image of drink, television and text — The Billy Goat Tavern

I had heard of this place. I entered and the convention was on all the TVs. The volume was on too. I’m used to going into bars that have Fox News on (even all the ones in Milwuakee were playing Fox News). This one had CNN. Oh, thank god.

I sat down to some people working for the DNC but I didn’t bother them until, for some reason, one of them said all Geminis are Republicans and that’s when I bothered them, saying, “Excuse me, sir, but I’m a Gemini and I assure you I am NOT a Republican.” They were a bunch of obnoxious blazer wearers.

And then a large Black man with a red “Make Chicago Great Again” cap sat next to me and I thought, “Nah…he’s wearing it ironically.” I quickly learned he was NOT wearing it ironically. Republicans don’t do irony…duh! There’s just one Black Trumper in Chicago and who does he take a seat next to at a bar? Me, that’s who.

And this guy bitched. He complained about everything. First, he was angry about the phone charging station at the bar that wouldn’t work for him. It worked but I didn’t tell him how to work it. Fuck that guy. Then, he complained about Doug Emhoff’s speech, especially when he mentioned brisket. The Trumper said, “That don’t appeal to Black people, talking about brisket. We need ribs.” And then he said, “Black people don’t relate…you know…,” and then he looked at me and said, “N-word,” except he didn’t say, “N-word.” He said the word.

I didn’t engage because I didn’t want a conversation with him. Trumpers are often like Libertarians and RFK Jr fuckers. They want to talk to you, they don’t want to stop talking to you, and they try to convert you. They’re worse than Hairy Krishners.

Put a dime into a Republican and the record won’t stop.

I finally broke my silence when he said, “I’m driving a bunch of Black senior citizens in a van on election day to vote for Trump,” and that’s when I said, “No, you’re not.” He started to speak again and I interrupted, “Just stop.” Amazingly, he walked away…but he returned later to yell at the charging station some more.

And then (What? Is there a magnet on me?), a couple of Democrats from New Mexico made a bee-line from the front door to me to ask if Democrats are supporting genocide. They told me they were not voting for Democrats this time because of their support for Israel. I told them, “Yeah, make Trump president and then see what happens to Palestine.” They never sat down. It’s like they only came into the bar to scream at me. Or maybe they just thought they didn’t want to stay at the Billy Goat if people like me were there. I tried to distract them with, “Have you met the Black MAGAt screaming at a charging station?”…but nooooo…they insisted on yelling at me before leaving. They were nice.

I feel it’s important to point out that the MAGAt was Black because that is weirder than a run-of-the-mill MAGAt. It’s like Blacks for the Klan. It doesn’t make any fucking sense.

I went back to watching the speeches and would occasionally converse with the people who said all Geminis are MAGAts, but I didn’t talk to them much. They were annoying and kinda stupid. Who needs that?

I sat in the bar from Emhoff to Obama. It was a great spot to meet and see people from the convention. I plan to return tonight and maybe get a burger this time. I hear good things.

On the train, I saw a couple with DNC shirts and I asked if they were enjoying the convention and the young lady said, “yeah, we’re going to move to another car.” What? She made me feel like the crazy Kennedy lady of the Black bar MAGAt. What did I do?

When I got off to transfer, I ran into them again and she said, “Hey, have a great night” and I responded with, “Yeah, whatever.”

I sure told her.

Creative note: My buddy and fellow cartoonist Lalo Alcaraz is also in Chicago for the convention, except he gets to go inside (fucker). We were talking this morning and he asked if I added a dateline to my cartoons from Milwaukee which reminded me that I had to do that for my Chicago cartoons. Thanks, Lalo. Proofreader Laura also brought it up a bit later.

Drawn in 30 seconds: go watch this on the page, they’re interesting. Also, if you subscribe, you get these in email.

Jess Piper went to a Harris-Walz rally in Omaha-here’s the scoop on the ground:

Chili, Cinnamon Rolls, and a Tim Walz Rally

Ope! A Midwestern Meetup.

Jess Piper Aug 18, 2024

You will be bombarded with folks reporting from the DNC in Chicago in the next few days, so I wanted to tell you about a rally in the heartland first. A rally that included so many rural and small town people. The Walz rally in Omaha. A midwestern meetup that made my day and gave me the hope that will sustain me until the election.

I was raised in the South…in Arkansas. It’s funny because the folks in the deep South always called into question the southerness of Razorback country. Now that I’ve been in Missouri for almost two decades, I notice that people struggle to define Missouri as a midwestern state or a southern state. That is likely owing to our past history with enslavement.

Missouri has an identity crisis. The southern half of the state seems to belong to the south…the northern part, where I live, is most definitely Midwestern. My neighbors use Jell-o and sugar and mayonnaise in so many recipes. That’s a dead giveaway.

Like Northwest Missouri, Nebraska is quintessential Midwestern. And so is Governor Tim Walz.

I had no trouble understanding the idioms and language of Tim Walz at the rally I attended in Omaha on Saturday. Friends, the rally felt like a big potluck. It was familiar and friendly and folksy and all the small-town adjectives.

It was just the feeling I need to get through the next 70-some-odd days…

The Astro Amphitheater in Omaha at capacity for the Walz rally.

I had a friend send over an email with the Walz rally information a few days ago, so I applied for a ticket and I made the list. I was told they ran out of tickets within 18 hours. And, you can see why…Tim Walz is from Nebraska and his home state was more than happy to invite him back.

The amphitheater had a chyron that said, ‘Welcome Back, Coach!”

I know Omaha fairly well as it is less than a two-hour drive and my family really enjoys visiting Old Market and downtown. I left my house around 7:30, but I didn’t get to Omaha until almost 10 because I stopped for gas, coffee, and some breakfast pizza at Casey’s. I had on my “Dirt Road Democrat” t-shirt which can garner some looks in small towns, but the lady at the Casey’s counter read my shirt and smiled. No comment necessary.

I drove to the amphitheater and found parking and then started the walk to the event space. I ran into a few folks who said, “Wait? Are you Piper for Missouri?” I kept thinking that I wish my kids were with me so they would know that I do more than Tik Toks for a living. This isn’t much of a flex…there aren’t many outspoken rural progressives so I kind of stick out.

As I stood in line, I talked to so many who had stories of the fear that red legislatures can instill and that the fear has simmered for years. The anxiety that comes from living like that is remarkable, but so is a new-found feeling of hope.

Hope in the man they were waiting to see. Governor Tim Walz.

The doors were to open at 11am, so I would be waiting for a while in the long line that was beginning to go all the way back to the field I had parked in.

While waiting in line, I was able to talk to a Nebraska librarian. She worked with others to gather signatures to keep vouchers out of the state and she spoke at length about the books legislators planned to ban — the pervasive feeling of fear when thinking about shelving books in Nebraska public schools. And then she beamed when talking about the feeling of hope that the Harris/Walz ticket brought.

I was able to meet a woman who was with her Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense group. I told her I was a member in Missouri and even started a rural group in which many of the members are gun owners. She said it was hard to keep folks interested in the cause and I know that first-hand, but the fact that Tim Walz is a sensible gun-owner who has a F-rating from the NRA, and stands proudly with those of us who just want to pass common sense gun laws, is a huge help. Common sense includes safe-storage and universal background checks. These are things that most gun owners agree with.

I talked to teachers and hospital administrators and union members and nurses and stay-at-home moms. There were t-shirts representing so many viewpoints. There were ally shirts and rural shirts and public education shirts and pro-choice shirts and Walz shirts.

There were smiles in line. There was no hate. There was no fear. There was hope.

I made it through security and my way inside the theater. The place was filling up quickly. I found a seat and the woman next to me told me she followed me on Twitter and lived outside Mount Ayr, Iowa. I drive through there all the time and even met with a group of about 30 Democrats there last year. She said she had to work or she would have come. She had on an “I’m Speaking” t-shirt. She’s rural. She’s an Iowan — you know the folks who are all supposed to be Trump voters?

I bumped into a friend working with the NE Dems who told me I could stand on the stage behind Walz. Yay! So, I got up and walked by lots of people with guns to the backstage where I could be one of the folks holding the sign, doing the smiling, and getting excited about everything a politician says. Well, I didn’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic. When Tim Walz came onstage with his wife, Gwen, and a former student, it was electric.

Governor Walz talked about rural spaces. He spoke about small towns and small schools. He introduced us to a few of his former high school classmates. He graduated with 24 people.

Walz told a joke about JD Vance likely thinking a Runza is a Hot Pocket. If you know, you know.

Walz talked about the midwestern school delicacy of chili and a cinnamon roll. We all laughed because it is a combination that we all ate in public school cafeterias. It’s a shared experience that we can all smile about.

Walz then spoke on the hurt that we experienced during a Trump presidency that seems like it was just yesterday. He talked of the hate and the discontent that oozed out with every policy and press conference. He reminded the crowd that we don’t have to go back. Trump can slip away into irrelevance. That Nebraska can return its progressive roots and elect Democrats up and down the ballot.

He spoke on abortion rights and feeding kids and health care and union wages and folks who have been left behind. Omaha could not get enough of his passion and good sense. He could barely speak at times because the theater was literally pulsing with cheers and applause.

He then spoke on something that I think about daily — public schools. As soon as he mentioned how important our educational system is to our country, the crowd erupted into a chant…

Teachers! Teachers! Teachers!

The place exploded and this is where I have to tell you that I nearly cried.

I was a teacher for 16 years and the last few were rough. I miss the kids, but the fact that everything became “political” was too much. Everything I taught could be deemed political…I taught a protest lit unit that was Board Approved and in my literature book, but I felt under the gun with each lesson.

The fact that this theater was filled with Nebraskans and Missourians and Iowans all chanting for public schools and teachers was heart-warming. I am called a “groomer” or a “pedophile” on social media at least a dozen times every day for opposing book bans and for my years in the classroom. The fact that there was so much love for teachers was uplifting. I am positive the current teachers in the theater left feeling they could start this year with something that has been missing in red states…hope.

My aim with telling you about this rally is to help you understand what is happening in small towns and rural parts of the country right now. Omaha is not a rural space, but most of the immediate surrounding areas are. I drove through two hours of cornfields to arrive at the event and so did so many others.

I wrote in another post that the vibes have changed since Joe passed the torch…it remains true and even more so.

I’ll leave you with this: I passed a homemade sign in Ringgold County, Iowa the other day. The entire county has less than 5,000 residents. The sign was planted in the yard of an old farmhouse next to a cornfield. They put duct tape over “Biden” and had written “Kamala” in Sharpie on an old Biden/Harris sign. I travel this route monthly, and have for years, and I never saw the original sign in the yard. I’m pretty sure they didn’t have it out in 2020.

That means something, friend. It’s enthusiasm. It’s hope. It’s rural and small town folks coming around. LFG.

~Jess