After listening to almost 10 hours of debate centered on the highly dubious
merits of the Texas legislature's superstupid so-called 'abortion' bill (HB2),
all exchanges, pro and con, boiled down to a vote passing the bill.
Opponents, all Democrats, just didn't have the numbers, and moderate
Republicans, cowed by the Tea Party right-wing crazies among them, chickened
out.
But that was just the beginning. What happened in the 30 minutes after the votes were tallied and was more uplifting than most of the performances on the House floor. Mind you, here were
several magical moments throughout the day.
Rep. Senfronia Thompson, the legislature's no-nonsense grand dame, delivered
a graphic description of what will happen to Texas women as a result of this
draconian bill (that will severely limit access to a range of medical services
in addition to abortion). With a coat hanger in one hand and a scary-long
knitting needle in the other, she made clear what happens in back-alley
abortions -- and insisted that these would be the likely implements used for
terminating an unwanted pregnancy due to rape or incest (the bill makes
no provision for allowing termination of a pregnancy after 20 weeks). She asked
that an amendment to the bill be considered. It would make an exception for rape and/or incest.
It was voted down.
In a powerful proposal delivered in old-school oratorical style, Rep.
Sylvester Turner promised in to vote for
the bill if a provision were added to fund post-natal and medical care for mother and child.
His amendment was voted down.
Rep. Dawnna Dukes gently and somberly proposed an amendment that would fund
education for children born of unwanted pregnancies. Her amendment was also
voted down-- but not before some neophyte whippersnapper had the temerity to challenge
Dukes' motivation for advancing the amendment in the first place. What followed
was a scene straight from a TV drama series. Dukes fixed a steely gaze on the
offending legislator and issued a smackdown worthy of "The West Wing." Her voice dropped half
of an octave. When she finished dusting the floor with a scathing indictment of
his character for his seeming to challenge hers, she stepped back from the microphone
and over to his desk where she completed her reprimand. A brace of empty suits
surrounded the two, but none -- I
suspect wisely -- interfered.
Meanwhile, House Speaker Joe Strauss fluctuated between looking frustrated,
dismayed and bewildered, bless his heart.
Interspersed with this day-long drama were occasional rejoinders from the
bill's ostensible sponsor: Rep. Jodie Laubenberg. She called to mind one of
Molly Ivins' more notorious quotes. In characterizing a Texas politico, Molly
once wrote, "If his IQ slipped any
lower, you'd have to water him twice a day." Enter Rep. Laubenberg, bless her heart too. I
can't begin to imagine how or why she became the bill's front-and-center spokestwit.
Barely able to articulate a compound sentence, she couldn't defend
"her" bill with anything vaguely resembling informed authority.
(This is the person who famously believed a rape kit was the appropriate
methodology for eliminating the probability of pregnancy; she had no idea its
sole purpose was to acquire a perp's DNA.)
Bet whoever put her up to it won't make that mistake again.
OK. So now you have a snapshot of the activity before the miserable vote
took place. What happened after the session ended is the wonderful
part of the day and what made the end result tolerable. Hundreds of men and women of all shapes, ages, sizes,
ethnicities and manner of dress descended on the second floor outside the House
chamber, shouts of "Shame On You!" erupted among Texans who lined stairwells and crowded the gallery just outside the House doors. Stone-faced state troopers
promptly cordoned off access. The mass of people forced some of
the bill's supporters to skitter down side stairs like so many fleeing rodents.
And then...and then...AND THEN: some of the true heroes of the day began to
emerge. Angry jeers became cheers: "THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU"
we yelled. Somewhere a drum and a tambourine appeared, its players keeping
rhythm. There they were: representatives Sephronia Thompson, Rodney Allen, Jessica
Ferrar, Mary Gonzales, Elliott Naishtat, Helen Giddings, Garnet Coleman,
Jose Menendez. Despite the best efforts of remarkably calm fire marshals, supporters crowded
them, reaching past a line of troopers who tried to cordon off a pathway from
the house floor to the rotunda. The sea of phone cameras at the end of upstretched
arms was almost sculptural. Others, including Dukes, were sequestered in a
press conference.
And all of a sudden, it was over. The second session of the 83rd convocation
of the Texas State Legislature had run its course. The crowd dispersed. The troopers scattered. The fire marshall accepted a Gerber daisy.
Now we wait to see if this enthusiasm can translate into getting out the vote.
In all, it was a bad news/good news day.
HB2, which will be challenged six
ways from Sunday, was, for the time being, en route to becoming law. As for the good news, the monomaniacal governor who
insisted that the million-dollar special session be convened for the sole
purpose of passing this chickenshit bill, announced that he will not run for
governor again.
My fervent hope is that he takes his limited abilities onto the presidential
campaign trail in
2016, since Michele Bachmann isn't likely to run. Every
campaign needs a court jester along the way.
Tickets to this theater production, like the one just ended, are free.
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