Tag: asa hutchinson
Gov. Hutchinson: Trump 'Disqualified Himself' From 2024 White House Race

Gov. Hutchinson: Trump 'Disqualified Himself' From 2024 White House Race

The Republican governor of Arkansas, Asa Hutchinson, ripped into former President Donald Trump on Monday, describing him as “derelict in his duties” and morally culpable for the attack on Congress by a mob of his supporters on January 6, 2021.

In an interview with the Washington Post on Monday, Hutchinson said the House Select Committee investigating the January 6 Capitol attack had achieved its goal of making a solid case that Trump was “derelict in his duties” during the attack on the U.S. Capitol.

“Well, I think [the January 6 hearings] had an impact,” Hutchinson told the Post Live anchor Leigh Ann Caldwell. “They've made the case that he was irresponsible; he was derelict in his duties.”

"This should be a concern of every American," Hutchinson continued. "We had a president during that time that allowed that to go on and threatened the peaceful transfer of power."

The governor confirmed he was speaking from a place of understanding because he had “tuned to the majority” of the select committee’s public hearings.

Hutchinson echoed his previous comments that the select committee’s case, while strong, didn’t provide the “high burden of proof” needed to pursue criminal charges against Trump.

“I don't see how the January 6th hearings themselves are making the case against the president. That's a very high burden of proof. I think the attorney general's got a tough call there,” Hutchinson said. “I haven't seen the actual case being presented effectively in terms of criminal conduct on the president.”

Hutchinson, a former congressman, is one of the few elected Republicans to persist in criticism of Trump. Last month, the governor told CBS Mornings hat the January 6 attack was a “threat to our institutions of government” and that Trump’s response was “not the behavior we want to see in a responsible president.”

In the same interview, Hutchinson assailed Trump’s 2024 bid for the White House, saying the ex-president had disqualified himself from running again with his actions before and on January 6.

"While we're totally focused on 2022, obviously there's talk about 2024, and I had to make it clear that Trump has disqualified himself, in my judgment, from his actions on January 6th and leading up to that," Hutchinson said.

“If we get sidetracked on a personality that is as divisive as Donald Trump, then that does not bode well for the outcome in November,” he said. “We’re going to do well, I have no doubt about that, but we lose ground whenever Donald Trump becomes the issue,” he told CBS Mornings.

Hutchinson told the Post’s Caldwell that he stood by his previous statement criticizing Trump. “I honestly answer questions when I'm asked. And so, yes, I stand by that. I believe that.”

Hutchinson teased a bid for the White House in 2024, which might see him run against Trump. “I'm thinking about it, but not going to be… have any decision until next January.”

“But 2024 is so critical in terms of shaping the Republican Party. And so whether it's as a candidate or whether it's in some other role, I certainly want to be a voice,” Hutchinson said.

“Somehow people think that if you're not 100 percent pure behind Donald Trump, then somehow, you're a moderate,” he lamented. “But I think the test in 2024, can a conservative that has a more optimistic view of America, that doesn't resort to personal grievances, can that person win, and that's what I want to be able to support in the fight for 2024.”

In A Pandemic, Don't Try To Reason With 'Arkansaw Lunkheads'

In A Pandemic, Don't Try To Reason With 'Arkansaw Lunkheads'

During the early days of the Covid-19 epidemic, my brother and I congratulated each other that we had little to fear. Descended from hardy Irish peasants who lived in dirt-floored hovels among farm animals, we'd inherited sturdy immune systems and pretty much never get sick.

Or so we assured each other.

Except, come to think of it, our maternal grandfather Michael Sheedy died during the 1918 Spanish Flu epidemic at age 34. His own father had died earlier the same year at 56. Our mother was five years old when her grandfather and father succumbed to influenza. Although she rarely spoke of it, her childhood had been a difficult one. All this in Elizabeth, New Jersey where we were born.

So maybe we needed to be a little less cocky and more careful, we agreed. Indeed, we both got ourselves and our wives as close to the front of the Covid-19 vaccination line as we could. I stubbornly stayed on hold throughout an entire BBC-TV documentary to make an appointment at the university hospital; my brother drove three hours each way to get his shot at a pharmacy he found online. Hardly heroic, but the right call.

That said, I've got a ready answer when people ask me what it's like to live in a place like Arkansas filled with Covid-deniers and vaccine resisters: See, I've been there before. Our mother grew up fearful and superstitious, more apt to credit the florid imaginings of her craziest sister than any doctor. Radio commentator Walter Winchell—the Tucker Carlson of his day—once opined that the miraculous Salk polio vaccine "might be a killer."

And that was that. No killer vaccine for her children. No how, no way. Although we dutifully toured the iron lung exhibit on the boardwalk at Seaside Heights—scarier than any haunted house—and while I dutifully prayed for a polio-stricken neighbor named "Ronnie" every night, I never got immunized until I enrolled in the Peace Corps at 24. I never actually met Ronnie, and have no idea what became of him.

Until I asked him, I never knew that my brother did receive the Salk vaccine after first being denied enrollment in the second grade. Our younger sister too. I somehow slipped through the cracks. No way was our mother going to risk all three children without being compelled. Charismatic and forceful in other arenas, my father knew better than to argue. Or maybe he shared her paranoia. It was always hard to tell.

Meanwhile, the national press has been filled with stories about Arkansas' quaint folkways and consequent sorrows. The Wall Street Journal interviewed a nurse in Greenwood, over near Fort Smith along the Oklahoma border. Both her parents came down with Covid after attending their 52nd high school reunion in July and died within three days of each other.

Devastated by grief, the nurse, Shanda Parrish, says she still won't take the vaccine. It's too untested, she thinks. She has a brother living near Washington, D.C., who's worn out arguing about it. His parents needn't have died, David Herring told a reporter, but for fear and ignorance.

"Their age and health conditions—they should have gotten vaccinated really early," he said. "And then trying to talk to friends of theirs, and hearing these ridiculous things about depopulation and computer chips."

The Journal also interviewed a local physician (and Republican state legislator) named Lee Johnson. Dr. Johnson urges his patients to take the COVD vaccines, although he cautions that making people "feel defensive for their passionately held opinion isn't productive."

As a politician, however, Johnson voted for Arkansas' crackpot law forbidding school districts and private employers from mandating face masks. So it's hard to know what to make of him. After a Little Rock judge found the law unconstitutional, GOP Gov. Asa Hutchinson hired a Democratic lawyer from Fayetteville to help him resist the Republican Attorney General's effort to have the state Supreme Court re-instate the mask ban.

Meanwhile, local school boards all over Arkansas are requiring students and faculty to mask-up, even as angry protesters invoke their constitutional right to infect others with a deadly disease. Vaccination rates are rising sharply. And just across the border in Springfield, Missouri, the Kansas City Star reports, anti-vax activists showed up wearing yellow Stars of David to emphasize their victimization.

In short, it's all chaos and dark comedy; Mark Twain's "Arkansaw lunkheads" in action. If only pediatric wards statewide weren't filling up with children on ventilators it would be quite funny.

Trump, see, thought Covid might interfere with his re-election, so he told his followers the disease was a Democratic hoax. Many Arkansans believed him. Some would rather die than admit error. Now, they're too scared to think straight.

Anyway, here's what I learned at my mother's knee: You can't reason people into common sense. Sometimes, you just have to force the issue.

Arkansas State Capitol in Little Rock

How That ‘Blue State Bailout’ Is Rescuing The Reddest States

Reprinted with permission from Daily Kos

Since May 10, the federal government has dispersed $105 billion of the $350 billion included in the American Rescue Plan to state and local governments. The Treasury Department says 1,500 entities have received that funding, the funding Sen. Mitch McConnell adamantly opposed for the entirety of the pandemic, calling it a "blue state bailout."

"This state and local aid program is going to provide transformative funding to communities across the country, and our Treasury team is focused on getting relief to these communities as quickly as possible," Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen said in a statement announcing the progress of the funding thus far. "In the past 11 days, almost a third of the funding has gone out the door, and I'm hopeful communities will be able to rehire teachers and help businesses re-open much sooner than otherwise."

Tens of thousands of state, local, territorial, and tribal governments can request funding. The Treasury Department details the uses of the relief: "Support urgent COVID-19 response efforts to continue to decrease spread of the virus and bring the pandemic under control; Replace lost revenue for eligible state, local, territorial, and Tribal governments to strengthen support for vital public services and help retain jobs; Support immediate economic stabilization for households and businesses; Address systemic public health and economic challenges that have contributed to the inequal impact of the pandemic."

Let's check in on how that "blue state bailout" funding is going so far. Arkansas' Republican Gov. Asa Hutchinson has $1.57 billion for the state, and at the Arkansas American Rescue Plan Steering Committee Wednesday said that they could do a lot with it, from vaccine distribution to expanding broadband. "It is unique in history. It's a unique opportunity to improve the infrastructure in our state from broadband to health care to cybersecurity, from IT to water projects," Hutchinson said. Arkansas received a total of $5 billion, with the remaining $3.5 billion going to local governments and other projects.

"We need all the help we can get. It wasn't until vaccines rolled out that we rounded the corner. I think money allocated for vaccines, not just vaccines, but the education of the public about the safety of the vaccines, is essential to continuing to solve what has been a really long year-plus problem," Rogers, Arkansas Fire Chief Tom Jenkins, a COVID-19 response force member, said. The steering committee chair, Larry Walther, agreed: "COVID response, decreasing the spread of the virus, getting the pandemic under control, vaccinations, contact tracing, those sort of the things are the number one," Walther said.

This week, Muncie, Indiana, Mayor Dan Ridenour, a Republican, announced the city's preliminary plans for using the first tranche of the $32 million his city is getting. Just over $2.7 million will help the city overcome a budget shortfall; another $2 million will help the city's restaurants recover; $2 million each will help small businesses and nonprofit organizations; and over $4 million will go to hotels. There's also funding for substance abuse and behavioral health treatment, public art, and neighborhood assistance.

In another not-blue state, Iowa, "both the city of Des Moines and Polk County are receiving nearly $100 million in aid, the most of any Iowa city or county. Twelve Iowa cities are receiving aid, and all 99 counties are receiving at least $600,000." That means each county is getting about $200 per resident, based on 2019 census data. The state as a whole is getting $1.48 billion in American Rescue Plan money.

Idaho is going to get $1.1 billion, and state officials have said it will be used to "substantially bolster the state's water, sewer and broadband infrastructure." Alex Adams, Republican Gov. Brad Little's budget chief, touted the five-year window for completing projects with the funding. "That's a huge benefit for a rural state like ours where it's going to take years for some of these large sewer, water and broadband projects to come to fruition," Adams said. Idaho's largest cities in the state are getting a total of $124 million, smaller cities $108 million, and counties another $314 million.

McConnell's home state of Kentucky is getting $2.183 billion. "Our economy is surging and strong," Gov. Andy Beshear (a Democrat) said. "We are in a strong position to sprint out of this pandemic with continued positive economic indicators and with this funding that will create jobs, momentum and a better quality of life in every corner of the commonwealth." The state had already planned to use "use 1.3 million to boost the state's economy, expanding broadband, delivering clean drinking water and building new schools," and is "expected to create more than 14,500 new jobs." The state's general fund will be shored up.

The Tennessee Comptroller, Jason Mumpower, talked to one county's leaders this week to tout the projects available with the funding. "This could include helping workers, households, small businesses, nonprofits and impacted industries, such as tourism, travel and hospitality industry. Yes. You can use this money to make grants to individuals and small businesses," Mumpower said. "We look out across the landscape of Tennessee on a daily basis and think, 'Where does the greatest financial peril lie?' It lies in water and sewer. It lies underground," Mumpower told the Wilson county officials, who are expecting $28 million in relief funds.

All these Republican states getting all that funding passed solely by Democrats in the Senate, benefitting from the commitment to good governance -- and acting like they're goddamned adults like Democrats continue to model.

In Darkest Arkansas, Zealots Cruelly Overrule A Conservative Governor

In Darkest Arkansas, Zealots Cruelly Overrule A Conservative Governor

How can somebody like me possibly live in darkest Arkansas, well-meaning correspondents sometimes want to know. And when the state legislature is in session, I do sometimes wonder. All I can say is that I'm glad Arkansas is a state, not a country. Because I'm stuck on the place, mostly for personal reasons having nothing to do with politics.

"Thank God for Mississippi," people here used to say, on the grounds that our neighbor to the east had an even more embarrassing history.

Of course if Arkansas legislators didn't have the federal courts to hide behind, they might be forced to act like adults instead of staging a spectacle for the backwoods churches. Because that's all it is: a political puppet show. It's the fundamental unseriousness of right-wing culture war posturing that astonishes: taking militant stands against imaginary threats and passing laws that have no chance of passing constitutional muster.

And it's happening all over the South and rural Midwest. Anywhere white rural voters predominate, it's the same story.

The Arkansas legislature has outdone itself this year, prompting even mild-mannered Republican Gov. Asa Hutchinson to veto a particularly mean-spirited piece of legislation forbidding medical treatment to transgendered adolescents—and never mind their doctors and parents. "The Save Adolescents From Experimentation Act," they call it.

Hutchinson's no liberal. For example, he'd previously signed a bill forbidding transgendered girls from competing in girl's high school sports—a situation that has arisen in the state exactly never. Right-wing imagineers envision a mortal threat to women's athletics everywhere.

Meanwhile, the University of Arkansas fields nationally-ranked teams in women's basketball, softball, and other sports. World class identical twin pole vaulters recently graduated from the Fayetteville campus and began pharmacy school while continuing to train—a veritable wonder to behold.

But that's mere reality, of little interest to zealots.

The governor also signed a law allowing health care professionals to refuse treatment to any patient whose real or suspected sexual proclivities they disapprove of. Something else that is going to happen rarely, if ever, in real life. Arkansas doctors do subscribe to the Hippocratic Oath.

Gov. Hutchinson called the bill forbidding treatment to transgendered youth both cruel and unnecessary. Possibly he has a close friend or relative with a child of ambiguous gender. That's often all it takes to make people act decently. He told a reporter for the New York Times that fellow Republicans too often acted "out of fear of what could happen, or what our imagination says might happen, versus something that's real and tangible."

Yes, exactly.

Hutchinson's was a futile political gesture. Arkansas governors have no real veto power. It requires only a majority vote to overturn them, which the legislature did within 24 hours by three to one. The Arkansas ACLU has vowed to challenge the law in federal court. (The bill also says that insurance companies can refuse to cover such treatments in adult patients.)

Elsewhere, it's been one bill after another aimed directly at federal courts. In March, Arkansas passed a near-total abortion ban. Gov. Hutchinson told reporters he'd have preferred a law that made exceptions for rape and incest, which the new law doesn't. Nor for fetal anomalies.

In short, if a 14 year old girl is impregnated by her drunk uncle (insert hillbilly joke here) she must carry even a gravely deformed fetus to term regardless. The penalty is ten years in prison.

Appearing with CNN's Dana Bash on State of the Union, Hutchinson admitted that the new law "is not constitutional under Supreme Court cases right now. I signed it because it is a direct challenge to Roe v. Wade…I think there's a very narrow chance that the Supreme Court will accept that case, but we'll see."

Elsewhere, Arkansas legislators have declared all federal gun laws null and void within the state, a direct challenge to the Constitution's Supremacy Clause that is absolutely certain to fail. Serious gun nuts don't care. They don't expect to win. They just want their collective amygdala massaged—the fight or flight organ buried deep in the limbic brain.

Pretty much the reason they're gun nuts to begin with.

Which is closely-related to the reason the legislature brought Biblical Creationism back, mandating a law permitting fundamentalist theology to be taught in public school science classes. This one I take personally, as I covered the 1981 trial in Little Rock federal court over the "Balanced Treatment of Creation-Science and Evolution Science Act" when eminent scientists like Stephen Jay Gould convinced federal judge William Overton that the Arkansas law represented an unconstitutional "establishment of religion."

Same as it ever was.

Look, it's pretty basic. A large proportion of America's rural, white folks lost it over Barack Obama, and they ain't come back yet. They thought Trump was going to return America to 1954, but now he's gone and they're still hiding out in the woods.