Nearly two years ago, Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff won runoff elections in Georgia that allowed the new vice president, Kamala Harris, to be the Senate’s tiebreaking vote. Those victories were critical to unleashing a remarkable wave of legislation and spending.
It was one of the stranger midterms of the past few decades. Democrats, facing down a rout as inflation ran stubbornly high and President Joe Biden’s approval ratings remained underwater, managed a string of decisive victories that may allow them to control the Senate and even halt a significant Republican takeover of the House.
Don Bolduc clenched his microphone on a rain-streaked October night in New Hampshire, the rasp in his voice betraying, strangely enough, a sense of hurt. Senator Maggie Hassan, it seemed, had burned deep into him this time. “You know what’s mean? Calling me a monster. You know what’s mean? Portraying me as someone who would allow a mother to die.
For more than a decade, New Yorkers have grown used to sleepy, noncompetitive gubernatorial races. Eliot Spitzer won in a landslide in 2006. Andrew Cuomo steamrolled with ease to three terms, swatting away far-right and moderate Republicans alike.
Ron DeSantis and Greg Abbott, the Republican governors of Florida and Texas, respectively, have exploited thousands of migrants by busing and flying them to New York City; Washington, D.C.; and Martha’s Vineyard, off Massachusetts. The idea is simple: Make the Democrats deal with the border crisis and prove they’re all hypocrites, human rights be damned.
It was at a virtual town hall in late 2021, with COVID-19 rates skyrocketing again in Wisconsin, where Ron Johnson made the mouthwash declaration. A longtime vaccine skeptic, the Republican senator had curious advice for anyone battling the disease. “By the way, standard gargle mouthwash has been proven to kill the coronavirus,” he said. “If you get it, you may reduce viral replication. Why not try all these things?”
On a muggy afternoon at the ragged end of July, Nestor Cortés Jr., the mustachioed, heavily tattooed left-hander for the New York Yankees, was pouncing off the mound to field ground balls and fire them to first base. The night before, the Yankees had won on a walk-off home run from Aaron Judge, their six-foot-seven, 282-pound juggernaut and the front-runner for the American League’s Most Valuable Player Award.
This past November, Carolyn Maloney and Jerry Nadler threw on reflective safety vests to visit the construction site of the latest Second Avenue subway extension. As colleagues and casual friends, they were used to appearing at events together over their past three decades in Congress representing Manhattan’s Upper East Side and Upper West Side, respectively.
In San Francisco, the signs are everywhere. Near the famed Lombard Street, one is affixed to a lamppost. Several of them, picturing menacing men in black masks, offer admonishments for anyone strolling in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge. “Safety Alert,” the words, bold black against orange, warn. “Leave Nothing Behind.”
There are two kinds of Realpolitik when it comes to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, which has now dragged agonizingly past the three-month mark. There is the belief, held by many American pundits and most of the foreign-policy Establishment, that Ukraine must be supported at all costs and can very well win the war against Russia’s horrific aggression.