Time to reform public pensions in Kentucky

The issue on which former Kentucky Gov. Matt Bevin was strongest is probably the issue that caused his loss in his 2019 re-election campaign.

Bevin constantly talked about how Kentucky's chronically underfunded public pension plans for government employees and public educators were a ticking time bomb in the state's financial well being. For years, the state failed to adequately fund pensions to meet their obligations. Not only did he stress the need to provide adequate funds, but he pointed out that the current system was unsustainable and needed to be reformed, as a dwindling number of current employees could not continue to keep the pensions of a growing number of retirees afloat.

One on one or in small groups, Bevin was meticulous and eloquent in explaining the situation. He noted how prior governors (dating back to Paul Patton) had failed to include full pension funding in their budgets they submitted to the legislature, and how the General Assembly had failed to add in adequate funding. He constantly stressed that government has a legal, financial, and moral obligation to pay retirees and current employees what they're owed. And he also pointed out that something is going to have to be done if future employees are to have a retirement plan.

The state manages several different pension systems, all with varying degrees of financial health. But there's a key difference between one of them -- the retirement system for teachers -- and the rest.

When Social Security was established, for whatever reason, the teachers retirement system declined to participate. Teachers don't pay into Social Security, and thus are unable to draw when they retire. And unless they have worked other jobs where they do pay into Social Security for a substantial period of time, they aren't entitled to draw. Even then, there are limitations on how much they're eligible for.

As previously noted, Bevin was great at explaining the pension situation on a small scale or individualized basis. But, facing a hostile press corps, his public statements on the matter were twisted and misinterpreted by reporters, and his remarks and proposals were savaged by teachers who didn't understand the problem.

Most current state employees -- think those who drive snowplows, patch potholes, process unemployment claims, investigate child abuse, etc. -- will draw not only their defined benefit pension, but Social Security. Since teachers don't get Social Security, they're adamant about future hires not being moved from their current system to a 401(k)-like defined contribution plan the way newly-hired state workers were a few years ago.

Word has it that when a pension reform plan was being formulated a few years ago, it would have moved future teachers into the same type of system as now exists for the new tier of state workers. Teachers would have become eligible for Social Security, and their state pension plan would be a defined contribution plan. But for whatever reason, that proposal was rejected by the Kentucky Education Association.

Since then, Kentucky may have changed governors, but Republicans have strengthened their hold on the legislature. They passed a pension reform bill two years ago, but it was overturned on a legal technicality, not on the merits of the bill itself. The General Assembly hoped to readdress the matter last year, but the session was cut short by the emergence of the Wuhan Chinese virus and legislation ground to a halt.

Now, when the legislature comes back into session in February, they're said to be again looking at pension reform. Bevin's not around to be the villain anymore, and the legislature can definitely override any veto Gov. Andy Beshear may issue. This may be the best time to enact real, meaningful reform that preserves and protects the existing system while ensuring stability and availability for all future employees.

At a minimum, here's what needs to happen.

• Fully fund the existing systems for current employees and retirees. Under Bevin, pensions were fully funded by the state for the first time in years. The state must continue to provide the actuarially-required contribution to keep the funds solvent, especially since the various pension funds' investments may not survive a stock market crash.
• Fund those systems using existing revenue streams. Various education groups, including KEA and "120 Wrong," like to shout, "Find Funding First!" In other words, they're advocating for tax increases to fund the pensions. But taxpayers balk, and rightly so, when their tax dollars go to provide retirements for others that are better than their own retirement plans are or will be. If you're going to have to get by on Social Security or what you've managed to save, why would you want to prop up someone else's retirement plan? In addition, the economy is fragile enough now as it is due to the goverment's response to the virus. People are out of work and businesses are closing. They certainly can't afford tax increases, especially when that money will go directly into the pockets of those who really haven't been impacted by the government-ordered closures or limitations.
• Move future teachers into a Social Security plan. There is no reason not to do this. And it would prove beneficial to them if they come from, or move to, jobs where they do pay into Social Security. It makes no sense for teachers to be treated differently than social workers -- or, for that matter, teachers and other certified school staff and the classified employees, such as janitors, cooks, and bus drivers, who participate in the County Employees Retirement System (an offshoot of the state employees system) and thus pay into and draw Social Security. If this is done, then future hires can be enrolled in a defined contribution plan since they'll have Social Security as a backup, just as newly hired state employees do.
  
• Increase the retirement age and/or years of service requirement for eligibility to draw full retirement benefits. The current levels are ridiculously low. As of now, a state employee or teacher can retire after 27 years of service with full benefits. That means, if you start work when you're 23 years old, you can work 27 years and retire when you're 50. If you live until you're 80, you'll have drawn benefits longer than you worked. This contributes greatly to the system's unsustainability. And there are a large number of employees who work that minimum, or buy time and work even less, and then retire with full benefits and go to work in the private sector, often making more money than they did on the public payroll. Requiring 30 years of service before retirement is entirely reasonable. A 35-year requirement is even more so. Requiring that same 23-year-old to work 35 years means they'd retire at 58, which is still a lot younger than the retirement age for many private-sector employees.

It will be interesting to see how any reform efforts play out in this legislative session. It's a short 30-day session, and the General Assembly has to tackle a one-year budget because last year's biennial session got cut short. There are a number of other matters that need addressing, and the body may have to take up impeachment of the governor after a citizens' petition was filed. And they will have to get all this done quickly enough to leave time to come back to override any gubernatorial vetoes that may be issued.

But pension changes need to come sooner, rather than later. Politicians kicked that can down the road far too many times. Bevin was prescient on the issue, but his inability to get the point across to the general populace just delayed what must be inevitable. If Bevin had enjoyed the chance to make the case for reform on a smaller scale, without the hostility from the press and those who willfully misrepresented his goals, it could have been done by now. But the opportunity is now before the legislature, and they need to take advantage of that chance before any more damage is done.

Donald Trump's greatest accomplishment

 Out of all of President Trump's achievements -- and despite what his detractors say, he had a large number of them -- the greatest one of all was not in policy. It was a political accomplishment, and it's one that will loom large even after he is out of office, especially as the fallout from last week's rushed second impeachment continues.

If nothing else, Donald Trump has exposed all the faux conservatives and "in name only" Republicans that infest and plague the Republican Party. He is forcing the GOP to have a reckoning. Will Republicans stand strong and fight for what's right, or will they acquiesce and fold and surrender to the liberals in the name of getting along or preserving decorum?

I admit being a late comer to the Trump train. Ted Cruz was my first choice among all the candidates who sought the presidency in 2016. Trump certainly wasn't in my list of favorites, but he was infinitely preferable to weak candidates like Jeb Bush, John Kasich, and other squishy pretend conservatives. I agreed with most of Trump's policy positions, but his demeanor on the campaign trail -- especially during the nomination process -- was a bit off-putting. But Trump's straightforward approach won over a majority of Republican voters in the primaries and caucuses, and he improbably ended up with the nomination.

Up until the last few days of the general election campaign, I intended to write someone in. (Former Kentucky Gov. Ernie Fletcher is my go-to write-in choice for just about every race where I can't stomach those on the ballot). But since Kentucky doesn't count write-in votes unless that person has officially filed to be a write-in candidate, and none of the third-party candidates appealed to me, I decided to vote for Trump because casting my ballot for him was the only way to express my contempt for Hillary Clinton.

I warmed to Trump as his campaign wound down and he rallied his supporters, but like most Americans, I was astonished that he won. Astonished, but pleased. I was thrilled that Hillary wasn't going to be president, but I was also glad to see Trump win because I was on board with most of his policies.

And that's the thing with most of his RINO (Republican in name only) or COIN (conservative only in name) detractors. Those people have little to nothing in common politically with Hillary Clinton or Joe Biden. But their "never-Trumpism" led them to sell out their beliefs. Bill Kristol has become a laughing stock. The con artists at the Lincoln Project can't even pretend to be Republicans or conservatives anymore. And the so-called conservative pundits (think David Brooks, David Frum, etc.) are anything but conservative. If Bush, Kasich, Marco Rubio, Chris Christie, or any of the other Republicans who ran in 2016 had won and implemented the exact same policies as Trump, those same folks would have been drooling all over themselves chanting "four more years!"

I've long maintained that while Donald Trump isn't a conservative, he's governed as a conservative. His wins during his four years in office read like a conservative's letter to Santa Claus. Sure, Trump wasn't conventional, but look what doing things the way they've always been done got accomplished.

And then there's Mitch McConnell. Kentucky's senior senator has long frustrated the base of his party. His hostility to conservatives and his willingness to cave in to liberal demands has long aggravated those who don't want Republicans to be Democrat-lite. McConnell's move away from Trump has prompted an unheard-of movement within many in the Republican Party of Kentucky to censure him. Conservative local party leaders may force a statewide vote to call McConnell out.

The base wants Republicans to have spines. They want them to stand on principle and not surrender. McConnell stands for nothing but himself.

McConnell swept to victory in easier than anticipated fashion last fall. Challenger Amy McGrath was one of the most qualified opponents McConnell has ever faced, yet McConnell steamrolled her in November. Part of that can be attributed to McGrath failing to inspire her base, and also to "candidate fatigue." A good chunk of the state had grown tired of her during her failed run for Congress two years prior, and her message of being a retired Marine and a mother just didn't resonate. But the biggest reason McConnell, who remains deeply unpopular among members of his own party, was able to win so convincingly is that he rode Trump's coattails to victory. Had Trump not topped the ticket, McConnell's margin would have been much smaller.

But once McConnell's new term was secured, he had no need for Trump, with whom he'd always had a tenuous relationship. McConnell cautioned Senate Republicans against challenging the presidential election results. McConnell also falsely blamed Trump for losses in the two Georgia runoff elections that handed Democrats control of the Senate by virtue of Vice President Kamala Harris' tiebreaking vote. (Remember, McConnell himself is the one who bears the blame, as his opposition to $2,000 stimulus payments to Americans was the key issue in the Georgia races.)

Now, McConnell is signaling that he's open to voting to convict Trump on the spurious impeachment charges. Even though Trump will be out of office and unable to be removed, the theory is that the ultimate goal is to prevent Trump from running again for another term in 2024. There's already open speculation on how well McConnell and President Biden will work togehter to broker deals, showing that McConnell will be more interested in giving in than standing strong.

The establishment types are rushing to say that the party needs to purge itself of Trump and his supporters. Of course they are. Grassroots movements such as the tea party or "Make America Great Again" threaten the establishment's grip on power. McConnell will find it easier to deal with Biden, a longtime Senate colleague, than with Trump. The RINOs and COINs only want the GOP base when it comes time for elections. Once they've used the rank-and-file voters, they discard them.

Trump was effective because he was unconventional. Since he didn't come from a political background, he wasn't beholden to the establishment. The party elites weren't able to keep him from getting the nomination. In fact, the 2016 process was novel because the last two Republicans standing, Trump and Cruz, were far from the leaders' top choices. Some unlikely Trump allies emerged, including Cruz and Sen. Rand Paul and, to a lesser extent, Sen. Lindsey Graham. But on the flip side, some of Trump's early allies, like Christie, have become opponents.

Trump's post-presidency shadow will loom large over the GOP. The base has already shown it's no longer willing to be led around by the nose and be force-fed candidates like Mitt Romney and John McCain. Trump will no doubt campaign against politicians who turned against him, including Georgia's governor and secretary of state, the 10 Republicans in the House who voted for his second impeachment, and any senators who vote to remove him from an office he will no longer occupy.

Frauds like the pretend conservatives in the Lincoln Project and others will continue to promote liberal candidates and ideology in their zeal to punish anyone who backed Trump, but they'll find themselves up against increasing backlash from grassroots conservatives, and even their newfound liberal friends will eventually turn on them once they're no longer of any use.

The incoming Biden administration is already indicating it will reverse some of Trump's greatest policy accomplishments. Biden wants the United States back in the Paris climate accord, back in the Iran nuclear deal, and out of any guidelines that restrict those from nations that sponsor terrorism from entering the country.

Policies come and go. But Trump's enduring accomplishment -- exposing the pretenders among Republicans -- can't be taken away. In fact, it will continue as the "Make America Great Again" movement itself continues. Among all those things for which we should be grateful to Trump, shining a light on those snakes and swamp dwellers may be what those of us who care about conservatism appreciate most.

UK basketball protest: The left continues to steal our joy

I had been a fan of the University of Kentucky basketball team all my life. It's one of many things I inherited from my father.

As far back as I can recall, my dad followed the fortunes of the Wildcats. He remembered when Claude Sullivan, not Cawood Ledford, was the radio voice of the team. He had an old battery-powered Channel Master AM radio we called "Coach Rupp" that he took along if we went on overnight trips during basketball season so he could tune to clear-channel WHAS-AM to listen to the games. He was especially interested in the fortunes of Larry Stamper, a Lee County native who went on to play for Rupp and started for the Cats in his junior year, Rupp's final season. (I think Stamper may have been a former student of my dad's in elementary school in Lee County, but I'm not positive.)

Dad didn't get too outwardly emotional during the games, but one notable exception was the 1975 Mideast Region finals when UK knocked off Indiana. Earlier that year, on its way to an unbeaten regular season, Indiana had drilled UK in a game marked by their coach, the volatile Bob Knight, whacking his up-until-then friend and fishing buddy Joe B. Hall in the back of the head. As the rematch game wound down, Dad would clap his hands at every UK basket or defensive stop. Even my mother, who was not at all a sports fan, got in on the excitement. For all the big games the Cats played in their lives (my mom died in 1986; my dad in 2010), I never saw either of them get as worked up as they did over that UK win.

My dad was a disabled veteran. He lost a leg and suffered other life-altering injuries in Korea in service to the United States. I hesitate to ponder on what he would have thought about what happened Saturday in Gainesville, Fla., when the UK basketball team knelt in protest during the playing of the national anthem.

When someone says or does something that others find offensive, they're frequently told to look at it from the other person's perspective. What matters is not how it was meant, but how it was viewed. Yet that doesn't seem to apply anytime there is a national anthem protest. Those who see it as a slight against this country and its veterans are told that it really isn't, that it means something else, and they're wrong for perceiving it in that manner.

But beyond that, there is a time and a place to make an opinion known. During the national anthem prior to a public event is not one of those places.

UK has defended the protest as a player-initiated action. Coach John Calipari gave it his approval and even participated, and it was later lauded by Athletic Director Mitch Barnhart and UK President Eli Capilouto. College basketball players, as tall and muscular and talented as they are, are still basically kids. What they needed in this time was adult guidance, not acquiescence and encouragement.

Each of the players has an outsized voice that can be used to make a point. They all have social media accounts which they often use to break news about their futures. Look how many UK football players, in the past week, used social media to announce they're staying at UK for another season, transferring to another school, or declaring for the NFL draft. Nothing is stopping the players from posting their thoughts on social media, or other online outlets -- maybe even a blog, like this one. They are constantly being interviewed by press outlets. Why not offer opinions and speak quotable quotes during those sessions?

When kneeling during the national anthem first became a hot topic a few years ago when Colin Kaepernick did it before an NFL game, I've often wondered what would happen if a regular person did it. I occasionally attend work functions at which "The Star-Spangled Banner" is played. How long would I have a job if I knelt? Yet the UK players are being praised in some quarters, and those who speak out in disgust automatically get falsely labeled as "racist."

The backlash to what happened Saturday came quickly. I learned of it during the first half and confirmed it just before halftime. I changed channels on the TV, switched my social media profile pics to anti-UK images, and washed my hands of the Wildcats.

 

The disdain has gone farther. The jailer and sheriff in Laurel County staged a public burning of their UK apparel, and initiated a drive in which they're collecting UK clothing items to donate to a homeless shelter in exchange for a shirt expressing support for law enforcement. The fiscal court of Knox County in southeastern Kentucky passed a resolution condemning the action. And Kentucky Senate President Robert Stivers gave an impassioned speech denouncing the act on the Senate floor.

The United States has its faults, but we're still the greatest country in the world. I had hopes that this anti-American poison would escape Kentucky, but I was sadly wrong. Now I'm left with no sports to watch. I was never athletic enough to play sports, but I've always been a fan. The left has snuffed out that joy.

I acknowledge that most celebrities (entertainers and pro athletes) are liberals, although I don't know why. You'd think they'd oppose high taxes and would prefer to make their own decisions on what causes are worthy of their support, instead of the government taking their money and spending it. And most college students these days also lean left. We all know this, yet we continue to be fans and support their work. But sometimes, a line is crossed.

As much as my dad enjoyed the Wildcats, he was also a Cincinnati Reds fan. That trait, too, is something I inherited from him. I used to stay up at night to listen to the West Coast games. I gave up major league baseball after the 1994 players' strike. The greed of those players just was too much for me to take. At the time, the minimum major league salary was around $110,000 a year and the average salary was close to $1 million. For that kind of money, I would stand knee-deep in manure eight hours a day. I couldn't -- and still can't -- fathom a work stoppage by people who made that much income.

My interest in the NFL waned over the years, replaced by NASCAR. My dad had become a NASCAR fan and I'd spend Sunday afternoons with him, and the races were usually on. Kaepernick, and the NFL's refusal to sanction him for his actions, ended my interest in pro football. Given its southern roots and the feelings of its fan base, I figured NASCAR would be immune from any national anthem protests. But when the sanctioning body gave its blessing to kneeling last spring when racing resumed after its Wuhan Chinese virus hiatus, that was it. I gave up being a NASCAR fan and quit watching the races.

So now, sports fandom is gone. I'm definitely not a fan of hockey or soccer, nor of golf -- and if I was a golf fan, I'd give that up after the PGA's politically-based decision to pull its 2022 championship from a Donald Trump-owned course.

It will be interesting to see what happens as the backlash from Saturday continues. Will attendance drop (once Rupp Arena's capacity is back to normal)? Will merchandise sales fall? Will television ratings for the games plummet? Indications are that more Kentuckians are opposed to the protest than support it.

As for me, the NASCAR thing was tough, but this is harder. This is the loss of something I've enjoyed my entire life. I have lots of fond memories of UK basketball. Larry Stamper representing Beattyville as a Wildcat. The aforementioned 1975 Indiana game. The 1978 national championship. Jeff Ginnan, another Lee County player, walking on and getting a start during his final home game. The Unforgettables. The improbable 1998 national championship.

Kentucky basketball died for me at approximately 6 p.m. EST on Saturday,  Jan. 9, 2021. I'm left with a lot of good memories -- and a few pieces of clothing which will never be worn again, and an incredible sense of loss.

Mitch McConnell's greatest political miscalculation cost him his leadership job

Friends and political foes alike of U.S. Sen. Mitch McConnell, Kentucky's longest-serving senator who is -- for now, anyway -- the majority leader of the upper chamber have long noted and praised his political acumen and wily ways.

From the time he first burst upon the statewide political scene in 1984, unleashing bloodhounds in his television advertisements in his successful effort to unseat incumbent Walter "Dee" Huddleston, the native of Alabama who became a Louisvillian has been regarded as a political genius. He was always able to predict the changing tides and adapt to them, picking campaign themes and using various aspects of Senate rules and procedures to win elections and move into a leadership position.

In fact, last year, McConnell campaigned for re-election by emphasizing his leadership position and the benefits of that clout to the people of Kentucky. He won by a wider than expected margin over his challenger, Amy McGrath, due in no small part to the coattails of President Trump (and McGrath's own unlikeability, along with voter fatigue from her 2018 congressional run against Andy Barr.) McConnell frequently could be heard saying how much he enjoyed being Senate majority leader; that it was his lifelong dream to hold that position. He seemed to relish the job and the power it conveyed.

But McConnell's political prowess failed him when it came time to hold on to the Republicans' razor-thin majority in the Senate. The so-called political genius cut his own throat when he opposed increased direct stimulus payments to Americans while at the same time supporting outlandish sums of money going to foreign countries for dubious purposes. "$10 million for gender studies in Pakistan" became the source of information for memes aplenty. A review of the spending included in the omnibus funding bill, passed in tandem with the Wuhan Chinese virus relief legislation, led to outrage over the spending allocated to foreign aid while giving Americans crumbs.

As a direct result of McConnell's stance against $2,000 stimulus checks, the Republicans lost both runoff Georgia Senate races earlier this week. While there were other factors, including Republicans staying home because they were suspicious of the same types of vote fraud they saw in the November election in which Joe Biden won over Trump, it's been noted that the stimulus checks were the main reason independent and undecided voters went for the Democrats over the incumbent Republicans in what were very close races.

The increased stimulus payments had bipartisan support from voters and senators, including Georgia Republican Sens. David Perdue and Kelly Loeffler. President Trump was an enthusiastic backer of the plan. Yet as Senate majority leader, McConnell steadfastly opposed the higher amounts and the foreign aid cuts Trump wanted. He refused to allow a direct vote on the $2,000 stimulus, instead tying the matter to two unrelated subjects favored by Trump but stridently opposed by Democrats. He shut down efforts by members of his own party to get a standalone vote on the higher payments.

McConnell singlehandedly killed the upgraded stimulus payments. Democrats campaigning in Georgia seized on that act. And it cost McConnell his leadership position. All McConnell had to do was go along with his party's president and a bipartisan coalition of legislators from both the Senate and the House of Representatives, and the Senate would have remained in Republican hands. The GOP would most likely have won at least one of the races, if not both of them. Even a split in the runoffs would have given Republicans a 51-49 advantage -- not enough to withstand any defections from RINOs like Mitt Romney, Ben Sasse, Lisa Murkowski, Susan Collins, and others, on specific votes; but definitely enough to keep McConnell as leader.

Instead, the Senate is now at 50-50. Kamala Harris, as vice president, will break any ties. A Democrat from California has already been tabbed as her replacement when she resigns her Senate seat to assume the vice presidency. So if the leadership vote is 50 apiece for McConnell and the utterly disgusting Chuck Schumer, there's no question how Harris will vote. Schumer will gain control of the Senate's reins and McConnell will have his political power neutered and he'll be rendered impotent.

There's little doubt the Senate majority will work to reduce the outsized power the minority has in that body. Unlike the House, where a simple majority is all that's required for most decisions, the Senate's rules grant the minority much more ability to block or influence legislation. Cloture rules require 60 votes to end debate on a measure and bring it up for a vote. Since rules changes can be determined by a simple minority, it's conceivable that the Democrats will eliminate the filibuster. Under current rules, McConnell could potentially still throw blocks, but if the new leadership wants, it can cut his legs out from under him.

It didn't have to be this way. But for all his talk about how he relished being the Senate's leader, he took that position away from himself. He hasn't really said why, and no one has really asked him. Surely he knows that the simple act of moving spending away from wasteful, laughable foreign destinations to the bank accounts of Americans who have suffered from government decisions made in response to the virus, would have preserved his majority.

Could it be that he didn't want to provide Trump with a policy victory? Even though McConnell's popularity in Kentucky is nowhere near that of Trump's, and the president's presence at the top of the ticket benefitted McConnell's re-election, it's widely thought that McConnell has never been as supportive of Trump as Kentucky Republicans would prefer. McConnell used Trump to get elected to what will likely be his last term in the Senate, but after that achievement, he cast Trump aside.

There's a reason McConnell isn't a Republican favorite in his home state. Many regard him as too liberal and not in touch with the party's base. His hostility to conservatives and tea party principles is evident. That's why many conservatives, although they fear the country's direction under a Biden presidency and with the liberals in control of both chambers of Congress, will enjoy seeing McConnell's fall from power. Especially since it was of his own doing.

The American people will likely get those $2,000 stimulus payments after all, although they may have to wait a few weeks for the additional $1,400 to drop into their accounts or mailboxes on top of the $600 they got this week. But McConnell lost his leadership position, and for no good purpose. The act he opposed, and the opposition to which cost him his job, is going to happen anyway.

Mitch McConnell could have remained Senate majority leader, and Americans' bank accounts could have been made a little healthier. That would be a win-win for everyone. Instead, McConnell lost, Americans will still probably get the increased payments, but the country will suffer long-term damage at the hands of the new majority.

Forgive some of us if we take delight in watching McConnell's fall from power.

Jeff Hoover's ignoble exit from Kentucky legislature is well-earned

It's hard to think of a Kentucky legislator who's had a more degrading descent from power in recent years than Jeff Hoover.

Hoover, a Republican from Russell County in south-central Kentucky, went from the top of the mountain to an inglorious exit from public service in just three short years.

It didn't have to be this way, but something happened along the journey. Just as Hoover had made it to the pinnacle of power, he took himself down.

For years, Hoover toiled as a member, and then leader, of the minority in the Kentucky House of Representatives. He first took office in 1997, at a time when Democrats dominated the state's political scene. The governor's office and both houses of the legislature were under their power. The GOP had not gained leadership of the Senate at that point.

Hoover quickly worked his way into a leadership position in the Republican caucus, becoming minority leader in 2001. He was the longest serving GOP House leader in the state's history even before his elevation to House speaker following the Republicans' astonishing electoral success in 2016.

The GOP gradually made inroads on taking control of the House. Republicans began winning more and more elections, even in districts drawn when Jody Richards and Greg Stumbo were in control of the House to be friendly to Democrats. Finally, in 2016, the unthinkable happened: Riding Donald Trump's coattails, Republicans decisively took control of the House of Representatives. This followed the election of Republican Gov. Matt Bevin, only the third Republican to  hold that office since 1947, a year prior. Naturally, Hoover, who had led the GOP when they were a decided minority, was chosen speaker.

The wheels came off fast, though. Speaker Hoover got caught up in a sexual harassment and "sexting" scandal that forced his resignation as speaker. Bevin called for him to resign completely from the House, but he didn't. He won re-election in 2018, but decided not to seek office again this year. He'll be leaving office this month, a mere shadow of the well-respected leader he used to be.

Since his fall from grace, Hoover has obviously become bitter. He's been extremely critical of fellow Republicans, especially the most outspoken conservatives, and seems to go out of his way to heap praise on liberal Democrats. He's sided with Gov. Andy Beshear over members of his own party on a number of issues. He buddy-buddies with former political opponents, as if he's desperate for their praise and acceptance. He compliments them, and they pat him on the back in return.

Then again, this behavior shouldn't really come as a surprise. Hoover had tipped his hand long ago. Back in 2007, Republican Gov. Ernie Fletcher was taking heat from the Democrats who were unhappy that he'd had the audacity to spoil their party. After all, they'd held the governorship from 1971, when Louie Nunn left office, until 2003. Control of Kentucky is the Democrats' birthright, or so they believe. Republicans should have presented a unified front to defend Fletcher, since they'd been victimized for years by the policies Fletcher was trying to reverse. Instead, too many notable GOP leaders remained silent, or worse, sided with the Democrats. Hoover didn't help. He joined a ticket with Fletcher's former congressional cohort Anne Northup to challenge Fletcher in the 2007 gubernatorial primary. Fletcher faced an uphill re-election battle as it was, but the primary siphoned valuable resources from him that he could have used in his general election campaign. The fact that the Republican leader in the House of Representatives couldn't see fit to fight alongside a governor of his own party -- one who had served for a time with Hoover in Frankfort -- was telling.

So, what comes next for Hoover as he leaves public service with his tail tucked between his legs? He's an attorney, so obviously he can continue to practice law while he draws his legislative pension. He's been hosting a talk show on a Lake Cumberland-area radio station, so no doubt that will continue. He'll probably maintain his Twitter account so he can take potshots at conservative Republicans and praise liberal Democrats. And since he's related by marriage to Al Cross, retired Courier-Journal political writer who still pens a statewide column, and they're from the same area of the state, he can be one of those unnamed "political observers" that pundits like to quote when they want to make a point.

Jeff Hoover had risen to the top. If not for his self-defeating acts, who knows what could have happened for him. The 2023 gubernatorial race is wide-open, and he could have run for the top spot as a relatively young 63-year-old statewide political leader. Or he could have opted to remain in the House, leading the GOP majority that Republicans worked so hard for so many years to obtain. But now, he pitifully leaves office as a shadow of himself, seeking validation from Kentucky's left. He could have chosen to go with dignity, but he seems intent on burning bridges. That makes it difficult to garner any sympathy for him. He deserves his fate. He's earned it. He won't be missed.

Hoover's story should serve as a good example of what not to do for current House Speaker David Osborne, or any other Republican in Kentucky who finally makes it to the top. Behave appropriately and stay loyal to the principles you claim to hold. Otherwise, you, too, can leave in dishonor and disgrace.

"Never Trumpers" claim to be conservatives, but they're not

A weekend Washington Post opinion piece by E.J. Dionne got a lot of traction among certain segments of political observers. Since it was paywalled, I was unable to read it, as there's no way I'd waste good money on a subscription to that liberal propaganda publication. But the summaries of the column and the amplification it got from particular groups and individuals were enough to prove that his take is based on an obvious fallacy that has been embraced by far too many.

Basically, Dionne said that Democrats owe a big debt of gratitude to those "Never Trump" conservatives who worked hard to defeat the president's re-election bid. And that's where his argument fails.

You cannot be a conservative and oppose Trump. It's a logical fallacy. Those who claim they are a conservative yet did not support his re-election are fooling themselves.

I've frequently made the point that Trump himself may not be a conservative, but he has governed as a conservative. His accomplishments read like a wish list for the right: border security, putting American interests first, appointing constitutionalists to the Supreme Court and other judgeships, strengthening our military while reducing our involvement in places where our presence does not advance American interests, making partners in international pacts pull their fair share of the weight, withdrawing from the disastrous Iran nuclear deal and Paris climate change accord, and many more.

Why, then would a so-called conservative want Joe Biden to be president? These people would have supported whomever the Democrats nominated, even if it had been Bernie Sanders or Pete Buttigieg. The easiest and most apparent answer is that they're opposed to Trump himself. John McCain may have called himself a "maverick," but the descriptor fits Trump better. He brought a new approach to doing things, having not been contaminated by years in politics. He shot straight and didn't mince words when he said what was on his mind. For those who value style over substance, or decorum over doing, it was a drastic change from what they were used to. They couldn't abide someone who had come from outside the system and wasn't willing to do things they way they'd always been done.

They made the judgment that their own personal dislike for Trump overrode the fact that Trump's policies and theirs were on the same track. Personally, I find this incomprehensible. There have been plenty of times where I didn't like a particular Republican candidate, but I never advocated for the election of a candidate whose ideological views were totally opposite of mine. Take Mitch McConnell, for instance. He fell out of favor with me for a variety of reasons about 15 years ago, but I've never supported or voted for any of his opponents in his three elections since then. As bad and as much of a RINO as McConnell is, Amy McGrath would have been much worse. I didn't vote for McConnell, but I certainly didn't vote for or support McGrath.

So, keep in mind that these people who describe themselves as conservatives willingly threw their support to the liberal Biden, because they regard him as "decent" and "honest," over someone with whom they personally disapprove but who's on their side where policy is concerned.

But it gets worse. These same faux conservatives, most notably the traitors and turncoats who call themselves the Lincoln Project, are now openly working for Republicans to lose control of the Senate. As it stands now, the Senate is all that stands between Biden's agenda and America. And counting on a Senate controlled by McConnell and populated with squishes like Mitt Romney, Ben Sasse, Lisa Murkowski, and Susan Collins is risky enough as it is. The outcome of the Georgia Senate runoffs could change that, and the Lincoln Project has joined other liberals in going all-in to elect the Democrat challengers.

Consider this. The so-called conservatives with the Lincoln Project are willing to give over control of this country to a Biden presidency, a House of Representatives controlled by Nancy Pelosi, and a split Senate where Kamala Harris would hold the tiebreaking vote. There's nothing conservative about that.

But the Lincoln Project turncoats aren't the only ones falsely clinging to the conservative label. The thumbnail for the social media shares on Dionne's column featured a picture of Bill Kristol, who beclowns himself every time he fires off a tweet or writes a screed for National Review. Kristol long ago forfeited any right to call himself a conservative. He doesn't even make a good establishment Republican these days. He's turned into an out-and-out liberal, just like those Lincoln Project types who abandoned principle and policy for reasons known only to them.

If anyone is owed a debt, it's Donald Trump. For all his policy accomplishments, his biggest one is political -- which is a feat unto itself considering the fact that he came from the private business sector, not the public political one. He has exposed countless RINOs and COINs (conservatives only in name) for what they are. From elected officials like Romney to activists like those in the Lincoln Project to commentators like Kristol and others (George Will, Jennifer Rubin, David Brooks, David Frum, Kathleen Parker, and the list goes on) who call themselves conservatives but have spent the last four years savaging Trump, the 45th president has revealed their true character they try to hide beneath their misapplied labels.

The "never Trump" crowd is free to act in any way it wants. That's the beauty of American free speech and political activism. They just shouldn't do it under false pretenses or with untrue self-advertising. These people are not conservatives. Don't believe them when they claim they are. Their words and actions say differently.

A daily double of outrage for Kentucky liberals

A couple of things happened one day last week that, if taken separately, would have caused Kentucky liberals to erupt into fits of rage. But for both of them to happen on the same day ... well, let's just say that was like hitting the daily double for those of us who are entertained by watching the reactions of the left when they get triggered.

Anyone who's followed the news in Kentucky knows that we are currently in the midst of another government-mandated shutdown of private businesses in yet another overreaching, intrusive effort to respond to the Wuhan Chinese virus. This restriction is the closure of restaurants to indoor dining. With meteorological winter firmly upon us, this in effect means that restaurants are allowed to serve food only for carryout. No one's going to eat outside or in a poorly-insulated tent in 40-degree weather. The food service industry has already been crippled by previous shutdowns and continued capacity limitations, and many restaurants have announced their permanent closure. Bills remain even if revenue isn't coming in, and it's unrealistic to expect restaurants to be able to exist solely on in-person capacity limits of 50 percent, much less off-premises dining.

Some restaurants, though, decided that they would defy the orders of Gov. Andy Beshear and remain open. Most prominent among them, judging by news coverage, are Wingz 2.0 of London, Brewed in Lexington, and Beans from Dry Ridge. An incident that occurred at the latter got under the skin of Kentucky liberals who have worshiped the ground the governor walks on since he began his daily updates on the virus.

Separately, State Rep. Savannah Maddox and State Sen. Damon Thayer seem to generate the most outrage among the left. Maddox, who's fairly new to politics, has been an outspoken critic of the governor's response to the virus, and Thayer has been a thorn in the side of many his entire career. Both Maddox and Thayer represent Grant County, where Dry Ridge is located, in the General Assembly. Imagine the uproar when the two of them join forces.

Maddox has been promoting and championing Beans since the eatery decided to remain open in opposition to Beshear's closure decree. She decided to have lunch there last Thursday, Dec. 4, and eat in the dining room to show support. While she was there, Thayer happened to pop in for lunch, quite by chance. Maddox posted a picture of the two of them eating lunch together to her social media accounts, and the detractors of the conservative firebrand sprang into action. Their outrage filled Facebook and Twitter.

Another similar anger-producing moment occurred when State Rep.-elect Josh Bray, the Mt. Vernon Republican who defeated first-term RINO R. Travis Brenda in May and cruised to election in the November general election, shared photos of his visit to Brewed, the Lexington coffee shop that also defied the governor. For some reason, probably because he was a classroom teacher, Brenda was one of the few Republicans who found favor with the radical 120 Strong group (not so affectionately referred to here as "120 Wrong.") The 120 Strong group are some of Beshear's biggest fangirls, so naturally they weren't thrilled when Bray expressed his opinion.

But the happenstance lunch meeting between two legislators the left loves to hate wasn't the only triggering event that day. A month ago, Kentuckians elected a slew of new legislators, particularly in the House of Representatives, where the GOP will enjoy a 75-25 supermajority. The short 2021 legislative session begins on Jan. 5, when the legislature meets to select its leaders and begin consideration of bills deemed vital, so the freshman class gathered in Frankfort last Thursday for orientation.

Most of the Republicans opted not to participate in the Democrats' political theater and didn't wear masks to the meeting. The reaction of the superminority was predictable. Many Democrats made righteously indignant posts to social media, the party's legislative leaders issued statements of outrage, and the fangirls of "120 Wrong" piled on. One northern Kentucky Democrat even claimed, without any basis in fact, that she would not be able to see an elderly parent for whom she cares for a week because she was around people who didn't wear masks. (News flash for the drama queen: Unless one of those maskless people has the virus, and you were within six feet of them for more than 15 minutes, you don't have anything to worry about.)

It was a thing of beauty for those of us who are amused by all this spittle-spewing rage. And like Clark W. Griswold's "Jelly of the Month Club" Christmas bonus, it was the gift that keeps on giving. Later in the weekend, another Democrat pulled out the sarcasm, asking "for a caucus" in a tweet what advice medical professionals would give to protect one's self if they were around people who didn't wear masks. The correct answer, of course, is that if she is wearing her own mask, she need not be concerned about what others are doing.

Republicans are frequently criticized for politicizing the virus, but that's not the case here. There's no indication that the GOP House frosh consulted with each other, or party leaders, when they decided not to wear masks to orientation. It was the Democrats, not the Republicans, who spoke as a party on the matter. And as to the general idea that Republicans have turned it into a partisan issue, keep in mind that Ohio Gov. Mike DeWine is a registered Republican, yet it's Republicans in the legislature who have begun impeachment proceedings against him over the way he's handled the virus. It might be more correct to say there's an ideological divide between those who prefer that individuals make their own decisions on how they're going to respond to the virus, vs. those who want the government to take restrictive action to limit freedoms. The infamous Ben Franklin quote about trading liberty for safety has often been cited since spring.

Make no mistake, stakes are high for our state and nation. It's hard to see liberties and livelihoods taken away, watching businesses close and people losing their jobs even as the edicts governments impose on the citizenry fail to do what they're intended to do -- that being, stopping the virus. It's even worse for those of us who aren't fans of what's coming to America next month in the way of a Joe Biden presidency. So we take our joy where we can find it. And if that joy includes watching liberals spaz out when a couple of Republicans eat in a restaurant, a group of incoming legislators don't don their "face diapers," or President Trump and his supporters and surrogates point out election irregularities, then we'll enjoy the show for as long as it lasts.

The upcoming Kentucky General Assembly session appears to be a fertile breeding ground for "120 Wrong" exploding heads. And it couldn't happen to a more deserving bunch. The legislature is already signaling that it plans to address executive authority when the session convenes, perhaps even in that first week that's usually reserved for organization and selection of leaders. There are rumblings that they might even tackle sorely-needed public pension reform to preserve the retirement incomes of current employees and retirees, and ensure that a viable system remains in place for future hires. It would be worth following some of the loudest voices on social media just to see how they react. It will probably be a better show than the 1992 NCAA Tournament East Region finals. (All but the final 2.1 seconds, of course.)

In defense of "Hillbilly Elegy"

With the cinematic adaptation of Hillbilly Elegy, the memoir written by J.D. Vance about his life as the descendant of a family that moved from the mountains of eastern Kentucky to the industrial midwest, hitting the screen this week, there's been a renewed interest in the book.

The 2016 tome's been subjected to a lot of criticism, much of it from liberals who, like Vance's family, moved away from Appalachia in search of a better life. They seem to recoil at the idea that with hard work and determination, anyone can break away from anchors such as poverty and substance abuse to succeed in life.

Vance never really promoted his book as anything more than his own experiences, but far too many have tried to paint it as what in their view is a flawed narrative about an entire region and culture.

I finally had a chance to read the book last year, and couldn't find anything in it with which to find fault. And I feel like I can bring a unique perspective to an analysis of his work.

Although Vance grew up in Middletown, Ohio, in an area populated with expatriate Kentuckians, his family hails from Breathitt County, and he notes in the book that he spent many summers and holidays back in the mountains. I grew up in, and still live in, a county adjacent to Breathitt. I've lived in Appalachia all my life (including six years in Winchester, as Clark County is considered to be Appalachian by the federal government). And I've worked in Breathitt County for more than two decades. I don't know any of Vance's Breathitt relatives -- at least I don't think I do -- but I certainly know the places of which he writes, and the way of life there.

In addition, my wife's background is a bit similar to Vance's. She was born in Ohio to parents who had relocated from Lee County. (They returned home when she was young.) Her family didn't suffer the dysfunctionality or substance abuse issues like Vance's, but she was one of the first from her family to attend and graduate from college. I've heard her stories, and combined with my own observations and experiences, I feel like this enables me to provide a valid viewpoint.

The same issues Vance faced as a youth in southwestern Ohio are similar to those endured by those who remain in southeastern Kentucky. The same economic conditions that caused folks to migrate northward years ago are now manifesting themselves in those communities with the closure of industrial facilities that popularized a different set of "Three R's" in the mountains -- reading, (w)riting, and Route 23 (or 25 or 27, as the case may be, as all three highways lead out of Kentucky and across the Ohio River). Addiction issues are well-known in the mountains and are also problematic in the Rust Belt. Families where children are raised by their grandparents are very common in this area. Many of Vance's critics have labeled him as an outsider writing about rural mountain culture. They forget that his roots are here, and the community from where he came in Ohio is full of transplanted hillbillies, to the point where the Breathitt County High School basketball team used to play two road games a year, on back-to-back nights, in northern Kentucky so transplanted Breathitt Countians could come see the Bobcats play and meet up with family from back home.

As noted, Vance never intended the book to be anything more than his story of someone who broke the cycle and found success, but his story should be inspirational. If he could overcome his environment, anyone with determination can. Perhaps that's why so many liberals are dismissive of his chronicle, if not outright hostile to his story.

No one could legitimately call the "War on Poverty," waged since at least the Johnson administration in the 1960s, a success. Poor areas of Appalachia remain poor despite millions of dollars being pumped into the area through welfare programs. This has, whether anyone likes it or not, eroded the work ethic that those of Vance's grandparents' vintage took with them to the midwest. But there are still plenty of people who want to work and support themselves and their families, and make something of their lives. But they're stuck with bad roads, slow or nonexistent Internet service, and other infrastructure hindrances. A region that was ravaged with population losses two generations ago continues to hemorrhage its best and brightest; many of whom would love to stay but simply cannot afford to.

I have yet to see a cogent explanation of why Hillbilly Elegy is "trash," as so many call it, beyond that declaration itself, as if it's definitive. Are they rejecting Vance's experience? Would they prefer that people be given money, rather than being given opportunities to earn their own money? Are those who left the hills for bigger cities so far removed from their own experiences that they fail to see what's going on back home? What, exactly, do they find in Vance's personal story that is so bad?

My own observation is that Vance's saga is spot-on. He could have chosen a life similar to that of his mother, many of his contemporaries, or the thousands of people left behind in the mountains from which his forebears migrated away. That would have been the easy way out. He didn't. He didn't settle for that existence. He went to college and then on to law school. He made his own opportunities and leveraged them into success.

Why anyone would disparage Vance's success and his accomplishments in the face of adversity makes little sense. Do they not believe he managed to make it the way he did, without being propped up by government giveaways? Does his story threaten the vision they have for the mountains, one where everyone is reliant on Uncle Sam? What is so objectionable about his life story?

I probably won't see the movie, even though parts of it were shot in Breathitt County. Early reviews indicate that it isn't terribly true to the book, as the movie begins with Vance being summoned home from law school to deal with his mother's drug problems. But the criticisms of the movie are generating renewed bashing of the book. When I first read it, I did so with the knowledge that many were critical of it. I may have to try to find a copy of it and re-read it with an even more keen eye to try to find just what so many -- wrongly, in my view -- find objectionable.

There's a reason that "Team Kentucky" logo looks familiar

Do you hear the "Team Kentucky" catchphrase and see the "Team Kentucky" logo that's used every day to promote the state's mandates in response to the Wuhan Chinese virus and think, "Wow, that seems familiar?"

There's a good reason it should. Before "Team Kentucky" became the slogan for the Beshear administration's anti-virus effort and the hashtag for its social media promotion, it was the campaign slogan for the Democrats' run for statewide offices last year.

A trip down the Twitter rabbit hole over the weekend journeyed through 2019 attorney general candidate Greg Stumbo's feed. The former House speaker, who ignobly lost his legislative seat in 2016 as Republicans swept control of the lower chamber, sought a political comeback three years later by running for the statewide office he held to the detriment of the state during Ernie Fletcher's gubernatorial term. As that campaign wound down, the Democrat slate and their surrogates mounted a tour of the state to promote what ended up being, except for Andy Beshear, a lost cause. They undertook this effort under the "Team Kentucky" moniker.

But don't just take my word for it. Let Stumbo and Rocky Adkins, the former legislator and unsuccessful gubernatorial candidate who now works as a key aide to Gov. Beshear, show you in their own tweets.

That was last year. Now, the "Team Kentucky" campaign slogan and logo have been repurposed as some sort of official state initiative.

In simpler terms, every "Team Kentucky" slide that's shown during the daily virus briefings; every inclusion of the logo in the signature of a state email message; every encouragement for Kentuckians to be a part of "Team Kentucky;" is a political statement. Would anyone be surprised if, when Beshear runs again in 2023 and the virus crisis is behind us, the slogan isn't used in that campaign?

It's not unusual for politicians and officials to adopt slogans for campaigns and causes. Fletcher themed his inauguration "Unite Kentucky" but that phrase wasn't used again, for any state program or for his re-election campaign. Plays on words are often used. Witness "Kynect" for the now-resurrected health insurance purchasing exchange, as shorthand for "Kentucky Connect," as in, "we will connect you to health insurance plans."

There's certainly nothing wrong with using a catchy phrase to promote a public effort. "Give a hoot, don't pollute!" "Only you can prevent fires!" And it's understandable that government officials would want to get buy-in to their virus response, especially since that response has taken such a toll on the state's economy and has eroded the freedoms of so many individuals in addition to causing them financial hardships. But the whole "Team Such-And-Such" tag is getting old. Someone needs to find the person who first came up with that phrase and slap them hard across the face. Mitch McConnell uses it for every campaign.

If someone doesn't like the coach or the decisions he's making, it's hard for them to want to be on "Team Kentucky." It becomes even more difficult when the same phrase used to promote government mandates someone opposes was lifted from a political campaign by candidates who promote policies with which they disagree. While we all want the virus to go away, not everyone is onboard with mask wearing, school closures, business restrictions, and everything else members of that team are asked to adopt or endorse.

"Team Kentucky" may have been a perfectly fine slogan for the state's Wuhan Chinese virus publicity efforts had it not been previously used for a political campaign. But one has to wonder where that branding will go from here. When the virus is in the rear-view mirror, will the state use it to promote some other cause? One perhaps more popular and less controversial than the virus mandates and recommendations? And then in three years, will that slogan be transitioned again for an election? Will people be so conditioned to seeing "Team Kentucky" that it's as recognizable a logo as, say, McDonald's Golden Arches?

Republicans have been accused of politicizing the virus. But when the government recycles a political campaign slogan and logo for its official messaging, who's playing politics?

Kentucky media outlets, who have been so eager to cheerlead for the mandates and restrictions the government has handed down, are either unaware of the slogan's history, or they've chosen not to make the public aware of it. You be the judge of which scenario applies. Scant few pundits have dared to voice an opinion in opposition to the lockdowns, the forced business closures, the restriction of elective medical services -- except, of course, for abortions -- and all the other hardships we've been made to endure.

So, the next time you see the "Team Kentucky" logo or hear the phrase, with the urging to be a player on that team, now you'll know the history of that branding.

Mitch McConnell's swan song? Speculation on his future may provide fodder for political junkies

Sen. Mitch McConnell was favored to win re-election this year, but his margin of victory defied predictions and expectations. Polling consistently showed him with a decent advantage over challenger Amy McGrath, but no one could have foreseen what turned into a 20-point victory over a candidate who had high name recognition and plenty of campaign cash to throw into her candidacy.

So now that McConnell is going back to Washington, seemingly once again as Senate majority leader, what's next for the man who's credited for bringing back the Kentucky Republican Party from its moribund state in the 1970s and early 80s and propelling it to its position of dominance in Bluegrass politics?

McConnell is 78 years old; he'll turn 79 in February as the new congressional session is getting underway. It's widely believed that this is his last term and that he will not seek re-election in 2026, when he'll be 84. Conventional political wisdom is that his protege, Kentucky Attorney General Daniel Cameron, is being groomed to take his place.

But political speculation is always a fun game to play, so let's engage in a little of it where Kentucky's senior senator is concerned.

In weeks leading up to the election, McConnell's health came into question. His hands appeared badly bruised in some photos, and some said they could tell he was wearing makeup at some of his public appearances and his face appeared to look different. It prompted lots of wondering if perhaps he hadn't suffered a fall, and others theorized that he's having heart issues.

When Congress goes back into session, Gov. Andy Beshear will be entering the second year of his four-year term. Beshear will be up for re-election in 2023, at which time McConnell will have passed the 80 mark.

If something happens to McConnell between now and then, Beshear will get to choose his successor. Who might get the nod? It wouldn't be surprising if Beshear picks his father, former Gov. Steve Beshear, who ran unsuccessfully against McConnell in 1996 and was unable to deny him a third term.

But what might occur if McConnell is still kicking when 2023 rolls around? That's where the fun part of the speculation begins.

McConnell has long been the elephant in the room (pun intended) in Republican politics in Kentucky. He backed U.S. Rep. Ernie Fletcher for governor in 2003, then cut Fletcher's legs out from under him when then-Attorney General Greg Stumbo came after him. He dried up fellow Sen. Jim Bunning's fundraising for the 2010 senatorial election, forcing Bunning to decide not to run for re-election. (That gambit didn't pay off as planned, as Rand Paul defeated McConnell's chosen candidate, Trey Grayson, in the GOP primary.) Some are convinced he undermined Gov. Matt Bevin's re-election bid last year and tacitly supported Beshear because he was still angry that Bevin had dared to challenge him in the 2014 Senate primary. And he's also believed to have backed both Cameron and Secretary of State Michael Adams against primary foes last year, when the front-runners had come oh-so-close to ousting better-known and better-funded Democrats in 2015.

Plus, no one has ever provided a definitive answer to the supposition that McConnell and former Gov. Paul Patton had some sort of arrangement over the 1999 governor's race, when a vulnerable Patton, standing for re-election, didn't face a viable GOP challenger.

It's a given that there will be a crowded field in Republican ranks for the 2023 gubernatorial nomination. Treasurer Mike Harmon, Agriculture Secretary Ryan Quarles, and Treasurer Allison Ball are all logical and rumored candidates, as they were re-elected last year and are term-limited in their current positions. Congressman Jamie Comer is also an oft-rumored candidate, and conservative favorite state Rep. Savannah Maddox is getting all sorts of encouragement to run due to her outspoken stands against Gov. Beshear's executive orders in dealing with the Wuhan Chinese virus. Adams and Cameron are in their first terms, and are also mentioned at times as possible candidates, but they are less likely to run -- Cameron because he's seen as McConnell's eventual successor, and Adams because he forged a partnership with Beshear on election changes this year that have angered a number of Republicans.

McConnell might not make a public endorsement in the gubernatorial primary, but if he has a preferred candidate, his influence will be known and felt. And it wouldn't be surprising if McConnell makes a deal with a gubernatorial candidate: If you will pledge to appoint Daniel Cameron to the Senate, I will go all-in on your campaign and then resign after you are elected. Should McConnell be able to extract such a promise from one of the candidates, that's who he's likely to support.

McConnell claims to relish being the Senate majority leader, but he may not enjoy that job as much in the future as he has in the past. For at least two years, he's still going to have to deal with Nancy Pelosi as House speaker. Plus, it's looking increasingly likely that the presidency will be held by a Democrat, so he won't be able to tout judicial appointments as an accomplishment. He'll be back to where he was during the Barack Obama presidency, decrying his lack of ability to get anything done because he's only one-half of one-third of the government.

It's amazing that he was able to win re-election the way he did, given that he's disliked equally by liberal Democrats and by the conservative wing of the GOP. Brad Barron, a Libertarian, made a gallant effort to siphon conservative votes away from McConnell, but was unsuccessful in affecting the outcome. And liberals who continue to insist that the Democrats would have stood a better chance of beating McConnell with state Rep. Charles Booker instead of McGrath again show they don't understand just how this state is skewing to the right and away from the radical liberalism Booker represents. "Cocaine Mitch" beat the fighter pilot by 20 points. His margin against Booker would have been at least 25 points.

If McConnell's health holds up, how he inserts himself into the 2023 gubernatorial race will definitely be worth watching. And if the GOP wrests the governorship away from Beshear, his future will certainly be in play.