unless they could independently raise at least thirty million from third parties and demonstrate that to an independent electoral council. This would prevent billionaires from abusing the process in an orgy of self-serving rhetoric” using the very word that described the process Stein despised. CBS interviewed the Speaker of the House, who urged the country to ignore “the self-styled radicals and concentrate on the substantive candidates” who he dutifully and in a most bipartisan way identified as Kirby, Reed, Logan, Spain, Ganon, and Rogers.
John Hastings, host of the popular Los Angeles–based Hastings Radio Show, called it “the disgrace of American democracy that a billionaire businessman can use his own money to just abuse respected academics and spread long discredited free enterprise mumbo jumbo to serve his own ends.”
Yes, Quentin Kirby was distressed for the same reasons that Colin Spain was furious. He thought Stein timed his show to perfection, spreading his unregulated gospel moments before the Iowa caucus results were declared and effectively taking away large chunks of media time that rightfully belonged to Kirby and Spain. Actually, Kirby was doubly distressed. Here was a candidate who could have been promised a seat in his administration, perhaps even the Treasury Secretary position given his financial expertise. He could have poured hundreds of millions into Kirby’s campaign, effectively guaranteeing him a return to the White House.
He was still toying around with that idea when Kevin Heller put an end to it.
“Don’t even think about it,” Kevin cautioned. “That was weeks ago. Now, even to place his name on the campaign register, even if it came with no strings attached, could be a public relations disaster.”
Kevin Heller remained confident that Frank Stein would disintegrate of his own accord. His opening salvo alone had hurt a range of powerful people across a broad spectrum. The anger among the establishment was so palpable that Heller could not help but compare it with what he called “the typical Tea Party anarchy from ten years ago,” when in 2010, Tea Party–led activists had stormed the gates of Congress and helped overturn a Democratic majority.
Kayla Mizzi saw it all with a different lens. With cameraman in tow and microphone in hand, she was standing at ten a.m. at Times Square. She knew from the messages on her website that many would come.
It was January 12, 2020. It was the day that was going to test the notion that voter apathy had increased and no one cared any more.
By ten thirty a.m., a crowd of thousands had already gathered. New York Police Department personnel were rapidly deployed along Seventh Avenue, and the crowd kept increasing.
Frank Stein appeared wearing a thick jacket and scarf, no overcoat, walking shoes, and a relaxed smile. For all their expressed diffidence, Kayla could see television crews streaming in. Overhead, she heard and then saw a CW chopper. In the air, she could smell the change in the public mood.
Stein got up on a little makeshift podium. He had no mike. Kayla assisted him with hers. He spoke briefly.
“Welcome, folks. Firstly, I would like to thank Kayla Mizzi of the Net Station for our interview last week and for lending me her microphone today. Today is the day we send a strong message to Washington.”
He stopped for a brief moment. The crowd chanted, “No more rhetoric, no more rhetoric.” The chanting kept getting louder as it went on. Kayla thought she heard the glass windows of a nearby skyscraper shatter from the crescendo. She looked up to see the CW chopper go perilously close to the blades of another, but the windows resisted the onslaught of the noise and commotion, caught like a tree in a storm with nowhere to hide.
Frank handed the mike back to her, but it was no use even trying to talk into it until she could shut down the deafening chant. Now there were at least six news choppers in the air, their swiveling
John Hastings, host of the popular Los Angeles–based Hastings Radio Show, called it “the disgrace of American democracy that a billionaire businessman can use his own money to just abuse respected academics and spread long discredited free enterprise mumbo jumbo to serve his own ends.”
Yes, Quentin Kirby was distressed for the same reasons that Colin Spain was furious. He thought Stein timed his show to perfection, spreading his unregulated gospel moments before the Iowa caucus results were declared and effectively taking away large chunks of media time that rightfully belonged to Kirby and Spain. Actually, Kirby was doubly distressed. Here was a candidate who could have been promised a seat in his administration, perhaps even the Treasury Secretary position given his financial expertise. He could have poured hundreds of millions into Kirby’s campaign, effectively guaranteeing him a return to the White House.
He was still toying around with that idea when Kevin Heller put an end to it.
“Don’t even think about it,” Kevin cautioned. “That was weeks ago. Now, even to place his name on the campaign register, even if it came with no strings attached, could be a public relations disaster.”
Kevin Heller remained confident that Frank Stein would disintegrate of his own accord. His opening salvo alone had hurt a range of powerful people across a broad spectrum. The anger among the establishment was so palpable that Heller could not help but compare it with what he called “the typical Tea Party anarchy from ten years ago,” when in 2010, Tea Party–led activists had stormed the gates of Congress and helped overturn a Democratic majority.
Kayla Mizzi saw it all with a different lens. With cameraman in tow and microphone in hand, she was standing at ten a.m. at Times Square. She knew from the messages on her website that many would come.
It was January 12, 2020. It was the day that was going to test the notion that voter apathy had increased and no one cared any more.
By ten thirty a.m., a crowd of thousands had already gathered. New York Police Department personnel were rapidly deployed along Seventh Avenue, and the crowd kept increasing.
Frank Stein appeared wearing a thick jacket and scarf, no overcoat, walking shoes, and a relaxed smile. For all their expressed diffidence, Kayla could see television crews streaming in. Overhead, she heard and then saw a CW chopper. In the air, she could smell the change in the public mood.
Stein got up on a little makeshift podium. He had no mike. Kayla assisted him with hers. He spoke briefly.
“Welcome, folks. Firstly, I would like to thank Kayla Mizzi of the Net Station for our interview last week and for lending me her microphone today. Today is the day we send a strong message to Washington.”
He stopped for a brief moment. The crowd chanted, “No more rhetoric, no more rhetoric.” The chanting kept getting louder as it went on. Kayla thought she heard the glass windows of a nearby skyscraper shatter from the crescendo. She looked up to see the CW chopper go perilously close to the blades of another, but the windows resisted the onslaught of the noise and commotion, caught like a tree in a storm with nowhere to hide.
Frank handed the mike back to her, but it was no use even trying to talk into it until she could shut down the deafening chant. Now there were at least six news choppers in the air, their swiveling
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