Mike McFeely is a WDAY (970 AM) radio host and a columnist for The Forum. You can respond to Mike's columns by listening to AM-970 from 8:30-11 a.m. weekdays.
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Harrisonburg, Va. Les Branich was the quarterback for James Madison University's first football team. That was in the fall of 1972, when the public school was still called Madison College. And it was actually a junior varsity squad. The first game was scheduled to be at the high school in Harrisonburg, since Madison College didn't have a football field. But a rainstorm soaked the town and school district officials told Madison that tearing up the soggy high school field wasn't an option.
Somebody, nobody seems to know who, is polling Moorhead residents about the upcoming election for mayor. It's the political silly season, a month before election day, and so nothing is surprising. But polling for a mayor's race? In Moorhead? The little city that pays its mayor $19,000 a year? That Moorhead?
There is history with a Republican U.S. Senate candidate in North Dakota being given a 10-point polling margin over Heidi Heitkamp. It involves my newspaper, The Forum of Fargo-Moorhead, and became the state’s own “Dewey Defeats Truman” moment.
It took six years, but North Dakota finally has its own Todd Akin. Um ... congratulations? Akin was a Missouri Republican who ran for the U.S. Senate in 2012 and had a good chance to win. That is, until he tried to mansplain his views on why he opposed abortion even in the case of rape. He said doctors told him women rarely get pregnant when they're raped and anyway, "If it's a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down."
President Donald Trump resuscitated his famous—and unsuccessful—line from the 2016 campaign during a high-dollar fundraiser last week in Fargo. "What the hell do you have to lose?" Trump asked Native American voters in North Dakota at a brief stump stop for Republican U.S. Senate candidate Kevin Cramer.
If you don't want to spend $1,000 to see President Trump when he's in Fargo, here's what you'll miss: "It is great to be back in the wonderful city of North Dakota! Last time I was here we set records with our crowds! The biggest crowds! It's amazing how popular I am! The most popular! (Cheers) "Crooked Hillary! Maxine Waters! Nancy Pelosi! Chuck Schumer! (Boos)
The rallying cry of those opposed to a casino on Star Lake in Minnesota's Otter Tail County proved to be correct. It wasn't a done deal. "It's not a done deal," was the tagline used by groups opposing a massive casino, resort, convention center and RV complex proposed three years ago by then-leaders of the White Earth Band of Chippewa. It was to be built on Indian trust land and other property acquired by the tribe on Star Lake, a large and popular body of water located in a remote area of Otter Tail County east of Maplewood State Park near Dent.
To see Fargo Rep. Jim Kasper on a stage in Bismarck recently, pontificating against a government ethics measure North Dakotans will vote on in November, was a gut-buster of Chris Rock proportions. Those of us old enough to remember still call him "Antigua Jim," based on a freebie vacation, er, fact-finding trip Kasper took to that Caribbean island years ago. Or we could call him "Montreal Jim" or "Vegas Jim," because Kasper took lobbyist-paid vacations, er, fact-finding trips to those places, too.
That Rep. Kevin Cramer is a fanboy of Donald Trump comes as no surprise, since an unrequited love for the president has been Cramer's only discernible strategy to defeating U.S. Sen. Heidi Heitkamp in November. Given North Dakota's political tilt, it just might work. But something Cramer said the other day to a friendly Bismarck radio host should be seen as alarmingly odd, if not downright disturbing, even for somebody who worships at Trump's altar as much as Cramer does.
Ricky Marquart did the right thing. Celebrating the 25th anniversary of his graduation from West Fargo High School with old friends and classmates on June 14, he found himself in the Silver Dollar Bar early the next morning. So he ordered a Lyft ride from the app on his smartphone. The driver, identified as Travis on the app, arrived promptly and drove Marquart home. The ride took 13 minutes, from 2:21 a.m. until 2:34 a.m. on July 15, according to the receipt Marquart received on his phone.