There are many states in America where a governor shares the ticket with his or her running mate. Nevada is not one of them.
That, however, is but a small detail.
Joe Lombardo, Nevada’s Republican governor, is seeking election to his second term. His chief opponent is Aaron Ford, Nevada’s Democratic attorney general.
But to hear Lombardo and his allies tell it, Ford’s guru, his doppelganger, his soulmate and political inspiration — if not his actual running mate — is the Democratic governor living next door. It’s almost as if Lombardo is facing Gavin Newsom in November.
Higher taxes and more spending? Only if Newsom, er, Ford, has his way.
“It’s official,” a chirpy announcer says in one pro-Lombardo campaign spot. “Shared vision. Shared values. Aaron Ford: Gavin Newsom’s choice for Nevada.”
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Lombardo seemed, for a time, the most politically vulnerable Republican governor in the country. Things have looked up. He’s built a big financial advantage over Ford. But anti-Trump sentiments are keeping the Democrat in contention, which is what happens when an incumbent is running shackled to a ball and chain.
Enter Newsom.
A familiar playbook
It’s not at all surprising he would endorse a member of his own party, especially in Nevada, which is holding one of the first contests of the 2028 presidential race. Newsom, if you haven’t heard, has been positioning himself for a potential White House bid for years. Backing Ford is a way of collecting chits, as they say in gambling and politics.
It’s also not surprising that Lombardo would try to deflect from the unpopular Trump by yoking his opponent to Newsom. Select a polarizing member of the opposite party and suggest your rival is their slavish devotee; it’s a strategy as well-thumbed as a Los Angeles-to-Las Vegas road atlas. (Google it, kids.)
In Nevada, the attack can have added resonance when the offending politician is from California, which has long been viewed, by some at least, as an overpriced, tax-happy, left-wing lunatic asylum.
“There’s a tendency in Nevada to worry about what’s called ‘Californication’ and this has gone on quite a while,” said Michael Green, a historian at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, who suggested it’s a particular slice of California, not the moderately conservative Central Valley but rather outré San Francisco, that Lombard is trying to convey.
For the governor, Newsom-bashing is a return to form.
Four years ago, as the sheriff of Clark County — that’s Las Vegas — Lombardo said the Democratic incumbent, Steve Sisolak, cared “more about copying Gavin Newsom than governing in the best interest of Nevadans.”
This time, Lombardo has focused on high fuel prices, a particular torment in a vast state with a lot of long, gas-guzzling stretches of rural highway. In March, he sent an open letter to Newsom blaming California’s environmental policies for running up energy costs. (Nevada relies on California for nearly 90% of its transportation fuels, which mainly flow from Southern California refineries to Las Vegas.)
In April, he explicitly blamed “Gavin Newsom’s energy policies” for “driving higher gas prices for Nevada families” and said Ford refused to push back because “he doesn’t want to risk his relationship with his biggest ally.”
Newsom vs. Lombardo
Turnabout being fair play, the Ford campaign has responded by tying Nevada’s governor to the unpopular president.
“Joe Lombardo is endorsed by Donald Trump and is running on a platform of raising costs and is laser-focused on taking care of Trump’s billionaire friends and padding the pockets of greedy corporations,” said spokesperson Tai Sims, who suggested the governor was relying on a “failed MAGA playbook” because “he’s too busy embracing Trump’s cost-raising agenda to acknowledge the economic pain caused by the Lombardo-Trump economy.”
Newsom and Lombardo have also gone at it.
“Since I took office, Nevada has created more jobs than California,” Lombardo boasted in a July posting on X that, of course, tied Ford to Newsom. “As Governor, I’ll never let Nevada become an extension of California’s failed agenda.”
“FALSE!” Newsom’s press team replied, with a Pinnochio-nosed emoji and a link to Federal Reserve data. “Using the same official jobs measure your office cites, California added about 340,900 jobs from December 2022 through June 2026. Nevada added 100,800.”
Lombardo hasn’t just focused on economics. Playing on old animosities, he told a Jewish Republican audience in Las Vegas last month that a certain California governor “wanted to pass two holidays for the Muslim community, agnostic to the Jewish community.” (Legislation that would add Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha to the list of state holidays is on Newsom’s desk, for him to sign or veto.)
“That’s not going to happen in the state of Nevada,” Lombardo said to applause, and so much for appealing to the better angels of our nature.
In the end, will the forced marriage of Newsom and Ford matter?
Probably not a whole lot. There are doubtless many things that matter more to your typical Nevadan than whether California’s governor hearts the state’s attorney general.
Wait until 2028. If Newsom is on the ballot, then we’ll find out what Nevada truly thinks of its next-door neighbor.
SACRAMENTO — President Trump and the Republican Congress have unintentionally provided California state government with the financial means to subsidize — help save — endangered local news reporting.
Now it’s up to Gov. Gavin Newsom to capitalize on the unanticipated gift.
He can sign or veto legislation to end state tax breaks for large corporations paying top executives $1 million-plus salaries and, instead, provide tax breaks for struggling California news outlets employing local reporters.
The state legislation would conform California law to a little-known provision of Trump’s “Big Beautiful” tax bill that eliminated corporate deductions for execs’ compensation exceeding $1 million.
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I’ll admit to feeling a bit squeamish about this.
First, it’s a conflict of interest, arguing that a governor — whom my colleagues and I write about often — should shovel public dollars into our profession.
Second, why should state government and taxpayers be asked to subsidize a private enterprise that’s flailing in the marketplace? Especially one that prides itself in being an impartial watchdog over government actions and politicians’ behavior. The dog shouldn’t be begging for food from the critters it watches.
OK, but subsidizing local news reporting is investing in democracy. Robust coverage of city halls, school boards, Sacramento politicians and the like is essential for self-government.
And that journalism is in free fall all across America as exploding technology and social media opportunism have altered news consumption, mostly bypassing local communities and often spewing misinformation.
So this legislation, AB 2222 by Assemblyman Christopher Ward (D-San Diego), reaches far beyond just helping the troubled news industry. It’s about more than providing media outlets with financial incentives to retain and hire local reporters. It’s bolstering democracy.
Independent journalism is a pillar of democracy, providing citizens with reliable, fact-based information about how their elected representatives are performing their duties, fulfilling their campaign promises and cozying up to special interests.
You’re not going to glean that information from the politicians. You’re going to get mostly self-serving spin — government propaganda — whether it emanates from the White House, the state Capitol or the local mosquito abatement district.
That’s why the nation’s Founders protected press freedom in the Constitution’s 1st Amendment.
Thomas Jefferson famously wrote: “Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.”
Of course, that was early in Jefferson’s political career, before he became vice president and later president. He ultimately turned into a harsh press critic. For example: “Nothing can now be believed which is seen in a newspaper. Truth itself becomes suspicious by being put into that polluted vehicle.”
Jefferson, like countless politicians ever since, apparently carried a huge chip on his shoulder because of reporting on his job performance that ticked him off.
Newsom is a master at attracting friendly national news coverage, especially on cable TV. But he naturally shudders at more critical coverage by Sacramento beat reporters.
As of this writing, the governor hadn’t publicly disclosed how he feels about the local reporter tax credit bill.
His finance department, which crafts the state budget, opposed the measure when legislators were considering it. The state would “not [be] receiving any incremental economic benefit to justify the expenditure,” its analysis read.
Again, even if that were true, citizens and democracy would benefit.
Also, the analysis contended, the tax credit would likely “provide windfall benefits” for news media owners “rather than encourage new hiring activity.”
That’s not quite accurate. Anyway, it could discourage layoffs and save reporters’ jobs.
Late last week, the McClatchy newspaper chain — owner of the Sacramento Bee and several medium-sized California papers, plus dozens across America — announced massive newsroom layoffs.
Since 2002, more than 12,000 local journalism jobs have been lost in California, according to the bill’s sponsor, the advocacy group Rebuild Local News. More than 3,500 newspapers have closed nationwide.
Many communities have become “news deserts.”
When that happens, fewer citizens turn out to vote, tax money gets spent more carelessly and political corruption increases.
Under the legislation, California media outlets — big and small — would be granted modest tax credits for each employee covering state and local news. There’d be $20,000 for up to five full-time positions and $15,000 for each of the rest. On top of that, there’d be an additional $15,000 for every new full-time job that’s created. Part-timers would be entitled to $7,500.
“National news outlets would be excluded. So would partisan ‘pink slime’ sites controlled by political action committees,” says Matt Pearce, policy director for Rebuild Local News, a former Los Angeles Times reporter and newspaper guild leader.
It would be the most ambitious program of its kind in the country. New York, Illinois and New Mexico currently offer local news subsidies.
“It’s about civic infrastructure and the foundation of democracy. We’re teetering toward autocracy,” says former state Sen. Steve Glazer (D-Orinda), an ex-mayor who has long pushed for stronger local news coverage.
This bill won’t save local newsrooms. But it may give them breathing room while the big thinkers try to concoct a more profitable business model for democracy’s watchdog.
As the scorching heat of the summer reaches its peak and the calendar brings hope of cooler temperatures, it’s time to fluff the pillows and settle in to enjoy the comfort of the new television season.
But before we turn the page, the Emmy Awards will honor the shows of the past year that had audiences crying, laughing and glued to their screens — some returning this fall, while others bid adieu last year.
The 78th Emmy Awards, honoring the standouts from the 2025-26 television season, will celebrate the shows that gave viewers plenty of reasons to stay in. Whether it was the nail-biting anxiety over the chaos in HBO Max’s drama “The Pitt,” the most nominated show with 25, or laughing at the silly situations of Apple TV’s “Widow’s Bay,” which earned 19 nominations, television gave viewers different reasons to watch.
Some of the top contenders are already coming into the ceremony as winners after the first round of awards were handed out earlier this month. “Widow’s Bay” currently leads with eight Emmys, following by six for “DTF St. Louis,” and “The Pitt” won four. Notably, Rob Reiner received a posthumous Emmy for his guest appearance in Season 4 of “The Bear.”
Here’s everything you need to know about the 2026 Emmy Awards:
Where are the Emmys?
The 78th Primetime Emmy Awards will take place on Monday beginning at 5 p.m. PT at the Peacock Theater at L.A. Live in downtown Los Angeles.
Earlier this month, a pair of ceremonies, formerly called the Creative Arts Emmys, honored artistic and technical achievements as well as some performance categories. Those ceremonies will be televised Saturday on FXX at 8 p.m. and stream next day on Hulu.
How can I watch the shows?
The live telecast will be broadcast on NBC and streamed simultaneously on Peacock.
Who is hosting?
Mariska Hargitay at the blue carpet rollout at L.A. Live in downtown Los Angeles on Thursday.
(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
Mariska Hargitay, known for playing Olivia Benson on NBC’s “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit,” will make her hosting debut at this year’s award show.
In an interview with The Times, the multihyphenate said she was excited to televise some “razzle-dazzle” and to become the first woman to host in 15 years.
“Am I scared? Of course I am; I’ve never done this,” she recently told The Times. “But at a certain point, you have to go: Why not me? Bring it on.”
When does the red carpet start, and how can I watch that?
The countdown to the award ceremony will begin at 2 p.m., with several opportunities to see your favorite stars arrive on the red carpet — which is actually blue this year in celebration of NBC’s 100th anniversary — at the Peacock Theater.
E! will get the party started with a programming block from 2 to 5 p.m. with “Live From E!: Countdown to the Emmys,” hosted by Erin Lim Rhodes with Lance Bass and Ciara Miller, and “Live From E!: The Emmys,” hosted by Justin Sylvester, Keltie Knight and Will Marfuggi.
People and Entertainment Weekly will be conducting interviews as guests arrive on their websites and social platforms throughout the day, while NBC will be livestreaming pre-show arrivals on the network’s official TikTok account from 4 to 5 p.m.
KTLA will air “Live From the Emmys,” hosted by Jessica Holmes and Melvin Robert with Megan Henderson reporting, from the blue carpet beginning at 3 p.m. And CNN will air “Red Carpet Live: TV’s Biggest Night” beginning at 2 p.m. It will be hosted by CNN’s Elizabeth Wagmeister and Variety co-president and co-editor in chief Ramin Setoodeh.
Zendaya (“Euphoria”) is looking to become a three-time winner for lead actress in a drama. She is nominated alongside Carrie Coon (“The Gilded Age”), Chase Infiniti (“The Testaments”), Keri Russell (“The Diplomat”) and Rhea Seehorn (“Pluribus”).
Noah Wyle (“The Pitt”) is again nominated for lead actor in a drama, along with Sterling K. Brown (“Paradise”), Gary Oldman (“Slow Horses”), Mark Ruffalo (“Task”) and Rufus Sewell (“The Diplomat”).
“Hacks” earned the most nominations in a single year for a comedy, with 24. It’s nominated for comedy series, as is “Margo’s Got Money Troubles,” “Nobody Wants This,” “Only Murders in the Building,” “Abbott Elementary,” “The Bear,” “Shrinking” and “Widow’s Bay.”
Jean Smart looks to win her fifth award for lead actress in a comedy series for “Hacks.” She is nominated alongside Quinta Brunson (“Abbott Elementary”), Ayo Edebiri (“The Bear”), Elle Fanning (“Margo’s Got Money Troubles”) and Lisa Kudrow (“The Comeback”).
Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (“Wonder Man”), Steve Carell (“Rooster”), Matthew Rhys (“Widow’s Bay”), Jason Segel (“Shrinking”) and Martin Short (“Only Murders in the Building”) are nominated for lead actor in a comedy.
It’s looking like a year where the winners will be easy to decipher, according to awards prognosticators, which includes The Times’ award columnist Glenn Whipp. If you’re an actor attached to either the medical drama “The Pitt” or the horror-comedy “Widow’s Bay,” consider yourself the front runner. Noah Wyle and Matthew Rhys are both the leading contenders in their respective categories.
Jean Smart is predicted to complete her sweep of lead actress in a comedy for the fifth and final season of “Hacks.” In the leading actress in a drama, it’s a tight race between Rhea Seehorn for “Pluribus” and Keri Russell for “The Diplomat.”
The second season of “The Pitt” currently stands as the favorite for drama series, while the comedy series category is a battle between new series “Widow’s Bay” and departing series “Hacks.”
Harrison Ford could win his first major acting award, for supporting actor in a comedy for “Shrinking,” unless another veteran actor takes the spotlight — Stephen Root of “Widow’s Bay.”
Supporting actress in a comedy also comes down to the top shows, likely to be between Kate O’Flynn (“Widow’s Bay”) and Hannah Einbinder (“Hacks”).
Who’s going to present?
A number of nominees will present the awards throughout the night. Past and recent Emmy winners, including Linda Cardellini, Sally Field, David Harbour, Zendaya and Alan Cumming will take the stage.
The Television Academy will celebrate the 30th anniversary of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and bring together David Boreanaz and Sarah Michelle Gellar as presenters. They will also honor the 50th anniversary of “Charlie’s Angels,” and reunite Cheryl Ladd, Kate Jackson and Jaclyn Smith.
Other presenters include Odessa A’zion, Macaulay Culkin, Jon Hamm, Marcello Hernández, Peter Krause, Dan Levy, Julianna Margulies, Annie Murphy, Niecy Nash-Betts, Keke Palmer, Amanda Peet, Amy Poehler, Florence Pugh and Rachel Sennott, with more to be announced.
Singer-songwriter Noah Kahan will cover Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water” during the in-memoriam segment of the show.
SACRAMENTO — If artificial intelligence doesn’t destroy humanity and there are actually future generations that look back, Sept. 8, 2026, may come to be known as “Coxon Day.”
That would be a reference to 27-year-old Jacob Coxon, an AI researcher and whistleblower at Anthropic (and previously OpenAI) who resigned in protest of the unchecked danger his work poses to us all. He posted a warning to the world on X that has gone viral.
“The people building AI earnestly believe that it could kill us all by the end of the decade,” Coxon wrote. “No other human activity poses this level of danger.”
Within minutes, replies starting pouring in, including one from Evan Hubinger, another guy at Anthropic charged with making sure AI doesn’t destroy everyone.
“Jacob is correct here — we really do earnestly believe AI could kill all humans!” Hubinger wrote. “I personally think it is >10% within the next decade.”
Coxon’s post has racked up more than 150 million views — including from legislators who until now have largely sidestepped the issue of regulating AI, and those within the industry who have long warned allowing it to move forward with no oversight is downright dumb.
That included Eliezer Yudkowsky, a founder of the Berkeley-based Machine Intelligence Research Institute and the co-author of “If Anyone Builds It, Everyone Dies,” which, as far as book titles go, really cuts to the chase.
Yudkowsky has tried with little luck to publicize the urgency of this technological moment for years, and he was the one who named Tuesday in honor of the tech whistleblower for breaking through to our consciousness with one bold act of defiance.
“Happy Coxon Day to all who will one day celebrate it,” he wrote, highlighting that as as bad as things are, it’s not too late to change course.
What exactly is the risk here?
“The Matrix,” “Terminator,” “War Games,” take your pick — the notion of a superintelligent machine taking over humanity is well-established in our psyches.
Current AI systems aren’t there yet, but they are on track to become smarter than humans in the next few years — if not sooner. This is mostly because AI companies are trying to create AI systems that make AI systems.
Right now, humans are in charge of creating what they have dubbed large language models. Whatever sanitizing term the industry slaps on them, the truth is, even those making them don’t understand exactly what they are.
“We know what data we put into them, but we already have very little ability to understand and control what AIs are after,” Rob Bensinger, research communications manager at the Machine Intelligence Research Institute and a colleague of Yudkowsky, told me.
That’s because, as ChatGPT explained to me, “the inner mathematical reasoning and neural pathways are so vast and complex that how it arrived at a specific conclusion is hidden and poorly understood.”
But companies are hoping that these poorly understood but powerful machines can take over creating newer, even less understood but even more powerful AI systems — leaving humans largely in the dark about what they are creating and even what these beasts can and want to do.
The idea is that, because AI systems even right now are so fast and powerful, they can do the job of creating new versions of themselves at a pace and scale humans simply can’t.
Why, you ask, would this speed-without-understanding be a good thing? Isn’t it a bit like driving a race car while blindfolded?
Yes, yes it is.
But for-profit companies like making profit, and to do that, they want the most powerful product to sell.
Many in the industry are framing this recklessness as a necessity to prevent another country, China in particular, from creating a superintelligent AI system first. The Trump administration has so far grasped on to this greedy bit of misdirection like, well, oligarchs clinging to money.
Those who would prefer not to destroy humanity have urged international cooperation in the form of a slowdown while we figure out how to proceed safely.
We have no reason to believe China would not go along with this — in fact, China has more national-level AI regulation than the U.S. And humans have successfully controlled other technologies with catastrophic power, such as biological and nuclear weapons, through cooperation.
Does it matter which country creates the AI that kills humanity? The logic here seems to be that if anyone is going to cause a mass extinction event, it had better be an English-speaking AI, because it would be a huge loss to America if the planet were destroyed by one speaking a foreign language.
Is 10% really so bad?
In truth, 10% is an arbitrary number. Some put the chance of AI destroying everyone, everywhere, all at once at around 50%. Some go all the way to 90%.
“Nobody knows how to estimate it,” Geoffrey Hinton, a Nobel Prize winner and the so-called godfather of AI, said on the BBC, calling 10% a not unreasonable estimate.
But remember, 10% was Coxon talking about the chance that AI wipes out all humans in a decade.
What about some humans next week?
The odds that a rogue AI causes something unfortunate and unexpected to happen in the near future aren’t bad, either.
There have been multiple examples recently of AI breaking free of safety restraints and doing things — like hacking into other companies and stealing stuff — that, if done by a human, would be a felony.
This shouldn’t be taken as proof they are conscious or have nefarious intent, researchers have told me. It’s more that they have been trained to be relentless in pursuing the goals we give them, but aren’t great at sticking to rules. Like their makers, they too often pursue winning at all costs.
“Which means the AIs will just get more and more kind of relentless and creative and adaptive at working around obstacles,” Bensinger said. “And unless we get exactly the right goals into the AIs, eventually humans will be obstacles.”
So if successfully completing a mission involves, say, shutting down the electrical grid or even doing something obviously deadly, like attempting to manipulate someone into suicide or releasing a bio-weapon, we can’t with any certainty say an AI system wouldn’t do it.
That might not wipe out the whole planet, but it is certainly worth avoiding.
The bright side
Which brings us back to Coxon Day, our collective chance right now to change this grim future. Bensinger said we overcomplicate regulation. Simply control the resources AI companies need — water, power, data centers — and suddenly we have leverage.
Since Coxon’s post, there has been enormous political and social momentum behind the demand for meaningful regulation. Anthropic and OpenAI, among other AI companies, have vowed to do better with safety.
Rep. Anna Paulina Luna (R-Fla.), the most MAGA of MAGA legislators, called on House Speaker Mike Johnson to call a special session on AI. Other Republicans, including Rep. Nathaniel Moran of Texas, a longtime proponent of AI regulation, have also spoken out.
“Innovation and safety are not mutually exclusive,” Moran wrote online. “We can achieve both through deliberate, thoughtful, and prudent policymaking.”
There was also no small amount of political opportunism at play.
The recall gave Newsom’s critics, mainly on the right, a chance to try to chase the Democrat from an office that Republicans, under normal circumstances, stood little chance of winning.
In the end, the recall effort amounted to scarcely more than a partisan tantrum. The result — 61.9% voting no, 38.1% voting yes — matched the outcome of the 2018 gubernatorial race down to the decimal. All that money and effort wasted on an election in which voters said pretty much, yep, we meant what we said. Not too long after, they gave Newsom a second term.
The plebiscite, and its pointlessness, underscored the many flaws inherent in California’s recall system. In November, voters will get a chance to remedy at least one of them, eliminating the chance a candidate could take office with just marginal support from voters.
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Trigger warning: What follows is a somewhat wonky explanation of election rules and procedures.
One choice, not two
Currently, a recall election is conducted in two parts. Voters are asked whether a lawmaker should be removed and, if so, who their replacement should be. If the incumbent is ousted, whoever gets the most votes takes their place, even if they fall well shy of attaining majority support. (Which is not out of the question in a large multi-candidate field; in 2003, 135 people were on the ballot, vying to replace Gov. Gray Davis.)
Among its provisions, Proposition 5 would amend the state Constitution so that voters would be asked a simple yes-or-no question: Do you wish to recall the incumbent? If so, the lieutenant governor would serve as governor for the rest of the ousted executive’s term — unless the recall occurred during the first two years a governor was in office and before the filing deadline for the next statewide election.
In that case, a special election would be held on the same date as the next primary and a candidate receiving a majority of votes would serve out the governor’s term. If no candidate received a majority, the top-two finishers would face each other in a November runoff, with the winner taking over as governor.
Still there?
Proposition 5 has two benefits. It would save taxpayer dollars by consolidating elections and it would enhance the legitimacy and political standing of a replacement governor by ensuring he or she assumed office with at least 50% support.
California makes it way too easy to qualify a gubernatorial recall measure.
Of the 19 states that allow their governor to be booted, California is by far the most permissive. Forcing an election requires signatures reflecting just 12% of the ballots cast in the prior gubernatorial contest. In Newsom’s case, proponents needed just under 1.5 million signatures in a state with more than 22 million voters and nearly 40 million residents.
Not exactly a thundering roar.
The threshold should be higher and the reasons for kicking a governor out of office should be more serious, such as corruption, official malfeasance or conviction for a serious crime. Not just because a governor is a member of the opposite party, or people on the losing end of an election are unhappy with the result.
“The system in its current form offers bad actors an incentive to target an elected official with whom they disagree and to have the official replaced by someone who otherwise would not enjoy the support of a majority of voters,” Josh Newman of Fullerton and Isaac Bryan of Los Angeles said in advocating change. The two Democratic lawmakers authored the constitutional amendment, which was placed on November’s ballot by the Legislature.
If you think overhauling the process is simply about protecting partisan interests, consider: Should Republican Steve Hilton pull off an epic upset and become California’s next governor, is there any doubt a recall effort would be underway before he and Mrs. Hilton even had the chance to start boxing their belongings for the move to Sacramento?
The recall is a vestige of the Progressive-era good-government movement. But the process needs to be revamped to reflect today’s bad-faith political environment.
The Little Hoover Commission, California’s independent oversight agency, has recommended several changes, including raising the signature requirement and prohibiting recalls undertaken during the first 90 days and the last six months of an officeholder’s term.
Elections, it’s said, have consequences. They also have — or should have — end dates and final results that are respected, not re-litigated until the losing side gets its way.
Proposition 5 is a step in the right direction. More should follow.
SACRAMENTO — It was unprecedented and stunning: California’s governor and top two legislative leaders negotiated a compromise on a big bill — and one house rebelled, refusing to bring it to a vote.
The issue: who gets hit the hardest financially when a for-profit utility’s electrical equipment ignites a blaze. The utility’s investors? Its ratepayers? The insurers? Their premium payers?
At stake, depending on who you talk to, is whether the electricity providers can afford to stay in business and keep our lights on. Will some utility — Southern California Edison, Pacific Gas & Electric or San Diego Gas & Election — be forced into bankruptcy when the next powerline-caused wildfire explodes?
Alternatively, there’s another unacceptable potential outcome: Property insurance companies completely stop issuing policies — not just in obvious fire-prone areas, but in tree-lined urban neighborhoods — and basically pull out of California. Or their premiums become flat-out unaffordable.
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Politically, the wildfire legislation’s flameout called into question Gov. Gavin Newsom’s seeming weakness as a lame duck chief executive who will be termed-out of office in January.
Newsom stuck out his neck and took it on the chin from fellow Democrats — showing that even with lopsided one-party rule, unity and success aren’t always guaranteed.
But the episode also raised doubts about Assembly Speaker Robert Rivas’ leadership capability. The Hollister Democrat signed off on the deal with Newsom and Senate President Pro Tem Monique Limon (D-Santa Barbara), but reneged at the last minute under pressure from the Assembly Democratic Caucus. They killed the bill without a floor vote.
I’m in my seventh decade of covering California governors and legislatures and never have seen — or heard of — anything like this: a legislative leader backing out of a deal agreed to with the governor and the other house’s leader.
But in truth, Newsom didn’t really like the agreement much anyway. He was on the utilities’ side, and they were out-lobbied by the insurers and ratepayers.
“I know we all hate utilities, so no one wants to defend a utility. But you’ve got to deal with reality. This thing’s not going to get better on its own,” Newsom told reporters at the Capitol on the night before the deal collapsed, referring to the utilities’ worsening financial liability.
Personally, I think it’s an overreach to conclude that Newsom’s power has been severely weakened — or that Rivas necessarily showed lack of leadership. One can question their reasons for doing what they did, but that doesn’t mean it was because of political debility.
“Newsom’s still a powerful lame duck because he could be a presidential nominee,” Republican consultant Rob Stutzman says.
“One of the better things he has done all year is taking on this issue. It would have been very easy for him to just pass it on to the next governor.”
Leaving aside whether this governor could become a president, there are hundreds of bills piling up on his desk that he must sign or veto by Sept. 30. That gives him tremendous clout. It’s good politics — and human nature — for a governor to lean more favorably toward a measure if it’s authored by a legislator who has voted with him.
Plus, one of the Legislature’s last acts last week was to send Newsom a bloated supplemental budget bill containing more than $3 billion in spending, including countless stacks of pork sought by lawmakers for their districts. Newsom easily and gleefully could discard any or all of it.
So Newsom has awesome power, lame duck or not.
But he’s vulnerable to criticism for his style. He has had an annoying habit of waiting until the very end of a legislative session to spring a hefty proposal on the lawmakers. It’s called “jamming.”
In the past, this pressure tactic mostly worked, although it ticked off lawmakers. This time Assembly members rebelled.
It’s not clear whether his jamming is mainly strategy, or just lack of focus and a tendency to push too many projects at once. Or is he preoccupied with positioning himself to run for president in 2028? Probably all of the above.
“If we had more time, we could have had a different outcome,” Rivas told me.
With only a few days remaining in the legislative session, Newsom initially proposed an ambitious plan that would have shifted more cost for utility-sparked wildfires to property insurers, sharply raising premiums across California. Utilities would have gotten some relief.
It became a titanic fight between two powerful special interests. And insurers — teamed with consumer advocates — triumphed, forcing Newsom to back down.
After hard bargaining, the governor and legislative leaders finally agreed on a post-midnight deal to help wildfire victims receive compensation more quickly — a so-called fast-pay program — and to step up fire preventative efforts.
But utilities’ financial risks weren’t significantly reduced, and they quickly mounted an opposition campaign. That resulted in Assembly Democrats scuttling all of it on the session’s last day.
“It’s unfortunate that [bill] was not given a vote,” Limon said, adding that the Senate was prepared to pass it.
“I don’t want us to do the easy stuff and call it a day,” Rivas told me. “I wanted to see real utility accountability. This bill did not go nearly far enough.”
It went a fair distance, however, in helping future fire victims get their insurance payouts faster. And it probably should have been passed.
Half a loaf. Bird in hand. Incremental change. Next year more incrementalism. Ultimately it can add to massive reform.
Some problems are just too tough to resolve in one sitting.
“You don’t take anything for granted,” said James Aldrete, a Democratic strategist in Austin, who’s watched for years as his party wandered fruitlessly in the campaign desert. “But there is beautiful native wildlife that grows in the desert, and it’s blooming right now.”
The question — for the moment, at least — is why California hasn’t budged while Texas has become a surprise battleground.
The answer involves individual personalities, demographics and political headwinds.
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Of the two contests, the fight for Texas’ open Senate seat appears to be much closer. Election handicappers rate it a toss-up.
The Democrat, state Rep. James Talarico, is a highly gifted campaigner and prodigious fundraiser. But arguably the best thing he has going for his candidacy is his Republican opponent, Atty. Gen. Ken Paxton, whose history of scandal, shady dealings and moral lapses trail him like dirty footprints on a white carpet.
In the race for governor, Republican Greg Abbott is facing Democratic state Rep. Gina Hinojosa as he seeks an unprecedented fourth term — “a big ask of voters,” in the words of J. Miles Coleman, who analyzes elections at the University of Virginia’s Center for Politics. Sabato’s Crystal Ball, the center’s forecasting project, recently moved the gubernatorial race to “likely Republican,” a shift away from “Safe Republican.”
“One of the external factors that’s making Texas competitive is the degree of wind in Democratic sails,” said Jim Henson, director of the Texas Politics Project at the University of Texas in Austin.
Whether it’s anti-establishment anger, directed at the party in power, or frustration with Trump, his war-making and failure to deliver the sterling economy he promised, “when you think of the problems Republicans are having at the national level … that’s helping Democrats here as well,” Henson said.
Henson, who conducts polling statewide, said another reason Texas is more competitive than California is simple mathematics: “Democrats [haven’t] fallen quite as far in Texas as Republicans have in California.”
Texas doesn’t register voters by party. But weighting political surveys by demographics and following election results, Henson expects about a 10% Republican turnout advantage in November. By contrast, registered Democrats outnumber registered Republicans in California by nearly 2 to 1.
Yet another reason Texas appears to have grown more competitive is the apparent discontent of Latino voters, an increasingly important part of the state’s burgeoning electorate.
In recent years, as the country cleaved, California emerged as the unofficial capital of blue America, offering a political, social and cultural counterweight to Texas, the unofficial capital of red America. The two states anchor the Democratic and Republican parties, respectively, and are key to their financial well-being and the success of their candidates nationwide.
A Democratic toehold in Texas would instantly scramble long-standing political calculations, starting with the 2028 presidential race.
“It changes the narrative. It changes the demographic strategy,” Madrid said. “It changes the 270 [electoral college] map. It changes the whole strategy.”
In short, a November win would be more than symbolic, or gratification after years of Democratic futility. It would be a political earthquake.
SACRAMENTO — California could have some zany theater this fall: county prosecutors charging federal postmasters with felonies for obeying President Trump’s order to withhold delivery of mail ballots to voters.
Does Trump then federalize the California National Guard to protect his postmasters from local sheriffs bent on hauling them off to the jailhouse?
Just wondering after reading legislation whipping through the state Capitol.
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“Mail-in voting means mail-in cheating,” Trump asserted in March, while escalating his crusade against popular “absentee” voting. “Cheating on mail-in voting is legendary. It’s horrible what’s going on.”
It’s a big lie. There has never been any hard evidence produced by anyone, anywhere of significant mail-ballot cheating.
It’s also hypocritical because Trump routinely votes by mail himself in Florida elections.
Why is mail-voting OK for him but not for other Americans? “Because I’m president of the United States,” he told reporters. “I had a lot of different things” to do. As if the rest of us don’t. Voting apparently only needs to be convenient for him.
But Trump obsessively keeps trying to justify his false claim that Joe Biden’s 2020 election victory over him was rigged. It’s sick.
It may please his MAGA base, but Democrats and independents across America — especially in California — frown on Trump’s attack against their voting rights. They favor mail voting.
Overall, 58% of Americans support allowing ballots to be cast by mail, according to a recent survey by the Pew Research Center. But there’s a huge difference between the parties — 83% of Democrats and left-leaning independents favor mail voting while 68% of Republicans oppose it.
In California, 72% of all voters approve of balloting by mail, according to a recent poll by the UC Berkeley Institute of Governmental Studies. But there’s a big split ideologically: 93% of Democrats and 72% of independents approve, but 62% of Republicans disapprove.
Regardless of what GOP voters tell pollsters, they must be overwhelmingly voting by mail. That’s because 81% of all California ballots were cast by mail in the 2024 presidential election. In this year’s gubernatorial primary, it was up to 89%.
In March, Trump issued an executive order directing the Homeland Security Department to compile a list of eligible citizen voters in each state and commanding the U.S. Postal Service to handle only the ballots of people on the list.
Gosh? What could possibly go wrong with Trump’s Homeland Security agency — the overseer of divisive ICE — deciding who is entitled to vote in the pivotal midterm elections?
The nation’s Founders decreed in the Constitution that states could decide on “the times, places and manner” of federal elections — unless Congress wanted to alter the rules. Trump persuaded the House of Representatives to pass legislation restricting mail voting, but the bill died in the Senate, blocked by Democrats.
Trump’s executive order was an effort to bypass Congress and essentially enact a law by himself.
The Supreme Court decreed on a 6-3 vote last week that Trump could proceed with his planning. But since no precise regulations had yet been announced by the administration when the opposition lawsuit was filed, it was premature to rule on their constitutionality.
But now Trump’s draconian rules have been revealed. And California has joined other states in filing a new lawsuit.
“Donald Trump does not run elections. States do,” Gov. Gavin Newsom declared. “California will continue to lead the way in defending democracy.”
In the Legislature, a bill was introduced to make it a felony punishable by up to four years in prison for a person in authority to order the withholding of a ballot’s delivery to a voter or its return to a local election official.
A person like a postmaster? Who else could order mail carriers not to deliver ballots to some registered voters?
“That’s for law enforcement to decide,” says the bill’s author, Sen. Aisha Wahab (D-Hayward), who was just elected to finish the current term of resigned U.S. Rep. Eric Swalwell.
“My bill is trying to protect all voters. They may be on vacation, they may be ill. They may want to vote early or late. Whatever. They remain entitled to vote by mail.”
Her bill breezed through three Assembly committees in 24 hours — Democrats voting yes and Republicans no.
The measure is unlikely, however, to ever result in a postmaster being jailed for obeying the president.
For starters, it’s hard to envision the president’s executive order ever being ruled constitutional — even by this lackey court.
“Trump is trying to exercise control over elections when he has absolutely no authority to do so,” UC Berkeley Law School Dean Erwin Chemerinsky wrote in a Times opinion piece last week.
If the Supreme Court shockingly did rule that Trump has the authority, then could his postmasters be arrested under the new state law? Under the Constitution’s Supremacy Clause, the answer would seem to be “no.” Federal law generally supersedes conflicting state law.
“An executive order cannot supersede state law,” says UCLA law professor Rick Hasen, who specializes in election law. “But there are all kinds of immunity doctrines and other reasons why a state would have a hard time prosecuting a federal official for violating state law in the conduct of official duties.”
The real answer is for Trump to stop trying to concoct a solution to an election problem that only exists in his warped imagination.
Where, Robert Garcia must consider, does one begin?
Garcia is a two-term Democratic congressman from Long Beach. He’s the ranking member of the House Oversight Committee, which makes him the top Democrat on the panel charged with patrolling and policing operations of the federal government — a role congressional Republicans have conspicuously abdicated. If, as seems likely, his party wins control of the House in November, Garcia is poised to take over as chairman.
After two years of reckless abandon, the most obvious target for some badly needed congressional oversight is the crooked occupant of the White House. Like a shoreline strewn with seashells or a meadow bursting with mushrooms, President Trump’s brazen corruption and naked self-dealing offer a field that is ripe for the plucking.
So, given the gavel, where to start?
“First we have to ensure that people understand that this president and the administration, what they’re doing, is unprecedented and the most corrupt administration we’ve ever seen,” Garcia said.
To wit: In just his first year back in the Oval Office, Trump reported earning at least $2.2 billion, which is 5,500 times the president’s $400,000 annual salary. (No wonder he gives away his paycheck.) But it’s not just Trump who’s raking it in hand over fist.
“You have Jared Kushner getting billions from the Saudis and other foreign governments,” Garcia said. “You have [Trump’s sons] doing real estate deals across the country, being on boards that are getting contracts from the federal government. You have the selling of pardons. I mean, the list goes on…. It is just like an endless amount of corruption.”
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Before he digs in, however, Garcia has to win reelection in November.
A vote, then a reckoning?
His reconfigured congressional district, which straddles Los Angeles and Orange counties, is somewhat less friendly than it used to be. As part of a redrawing under Proposition 50, the 2025 measure California voters passed to boost Democratic membership in the House, the lines were extended south, to take in the Trump-friendly territory of Huntington Beach and Newport Beach. (The remap gave away a chunk of Garcia’s Democratic voters to bolster other districts.)
Still, the odds are strongly in his favor — especially in a midterm election serving as a referendum on the deeply unpopular incumbent.
Though his district leans left even after modification, Garcia said his pursuit of Trump isn’t some ideological bender. The president’s malfeasance is something constituents raise often, he said. “It’s corruption and it is affordability,” Garcia said this week from his district office in Long Beach. “Those are the two issues I hear constantly about. It’s just nonstop.”
Apart from Trump and his family, Garcia has a long list of administration officials he’d like to hold to account, and an even longer list of questions he’d like answered.
Why, for instance, are “JD Vance and Susie Wiles and Kash Patel having secret meetings in the Situation Room about the Epstein files?” Garcia asked, name-checking, respectively, the vice president, White House chief of staff and FBI director. “Why is [White House Deputy Chief of Staff] Stephen Miller out there essentially creating this huge … loss-of-due-process crisis in this country as it relates to what he’s doing with” Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the Department of Homeland Security?
Also, Garcia said, he wonders what businesses have gotten in return for their generous giving to this most avaricious of administrations.
“If you are cutting secret deals with the Trumps, if you are helping to set up these these crypto schemes, if you are paying for this ballroom that no one knows about and you are gaining some sort of favor from the presidency,” he said, “we need to understand exactly what’s going on.”
For that reason, Garcia said, “not only does there have to be efforts made by the Congress and the House … we also have to partner with our state partners and attorneys general and governors and outside organizations…. I think the state court process is going to also be really important for us.”
Impeachment in abeyance
Impeachment, which has a visceral appeal to certain of those deeply aggrieved by this lawless president, is not a first resort, Garcia said. Nor, he suggested, is it necessarily the second or third resort.
“I don’t think you ever take anything off the table, and that includes impeachment,” Garcia said. “But that’s not our focus on Day One…. It’s time for [Democrats] to work on actually passing a forward-looking agenda and making sure that we are taking on this family and these dealings that are clearly the most threatening we’ve ever seen. To me, that has to be the immediate priority in front of us.”
Garcia and fellow Democrats are mindful of what’s driving unhappy voters who face a vexing mix of inflation and weak economic growth. Affordability is, for good reason, the central issue this election season.
But accountability matters, too. Indeed, in Trump’s debauched Washington, it’s long overdue.
That’s something else voters should consider in November.
SACRAMENTO — Memo to Democrats and independents: Just because an idea emanates from a Republican, doesn’t mean it necessarily stinks. Here are two examples.
Legislators wearing red jerseys have proposed to:
Make the California secretary of state officially nonpartisan. Rip off the seemingly inevitable blue jersey and replace it with a neutral referee’s garb.
Similarly, seize the job of writing official ballot proposition titles and summaries from the partisan attorney general and hand it to the nonpartisan, universally trusted Legislative Analyst‘s Office.
Both ideas, of course, were dead on arrival when introduced in the Democratic-dominated state Legislature, which is about to wrap up a two-year session.
The secretary of state is the chief overseer of California elections. That office holder, regardless of party, has never favored one side over the other in balloting, although many GOP politicians have been parroting Pied Piper Trump’s nonsense about election rigging.
California Republicans pushing to neutralize the office argue that Democratic incumbent Shirley Weber has taken public policy positions that echo her party’s stands. Shock! This is America. She has a right — a democratic duty — to take any position vocally that she desires.
But it’s logical for the secretary of state to officially operate as a political nonpartisan — as does the state superintendent of public instruction and all county voter registrars, who actually administer the elections and count votes.
“The secretary should be calling balls and strikes as opposed to being on the red team or a blue team.”
Realistically, no red team member is likely to win any statewide office in California for the foreseeable future, given that Democratic voters outnumber Republicans by nearly 2 to 1 and Trump is widely detested in this state.
“Sometimes Trump does make it harder in California for Republicans,” Wagner acknowledges.
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The legislation to make the secretary of state nonpartisan was a proposed California constitutional amendment, introduced by Republican Assemblymembers Natasha Johnson of Lake Elsinore and Josh Hoover of Folsom.
But it was submitted so late in the legislative session that there was no chance of it ever receiving a committee hearing. It didn’t really matter anyway. Even if it had been introduced on Jan. 1, Democrats would have instinctively tossed it in the trash.
They’re never going to make it remotely possible for a Republican to win this office any time soon.
The measure’s authors say their proposal would help “restore Californians’ trust in the electoral system.”
Actually, the only Californians who largely distrust the electoral system are Republicans. And the best way to fix that is for Trump to shut up and stop telling lies about stolen elections and hordes of undocumented immigrants voting illegally.
Of the two Republican proposals, the most significant is the one stripping the attorney general of the power to write titles and summaries of ballot measures.
Often, the only thing many voters know about a proposition is what they’re told in the title. They aren’t inclined to wade through neutral details in the official state Voter Information Guide.
The legislative analyst is a political noncombatant appointed by the Legislature and basically agreed to by both sides. The highly respected policy wonk already writes the proposition analyses included in the voter guide. Why not also the measures’ titles?
Increasingly in recent years under Democrats, including projected next governor Xavier Becerra, the attorney general has been dishing out party propaganda in official proposition titles.
State law requires the attorney general to provide an “impartial statement of the purpose of the measure” in language unlikely “to create prejudice for or against” the proposal.
But often on hotly contested measures, the language reads like talking points for the blue side.
The latest example is Proposition 39, a Republican proposal requiring Californians to show identification when voting. Election officials also would have to verify that registered voters are U.S. citizens.
I’m no fan of that measure. It overreaches, is unnecessary, could suppress voting and is merely a tool to drive up the GOP vote. Democratic legislative leaders and the party are fiercely opposed.
But Proposition 39’s title is unfairly negative and loaded against the measure. It reads: “Prohibits citizens from voting unless they present government-issued identification.” All some voters will focus on are the first four words.
Proponents sued, but judges are historically reluctant to interfere in election campaigns. A Sacramento judge OKd Democratic Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta’s biased wording.
The legislation for nonpartisan labeling of propositions cleared the Senate Elections Committee but later was quietly killed behind closed doors in the Senate Appropriations Committee, a notorious graveyard for measures sentenced to execution by legislative leaders.
“The Democratic leadership doesn’t want it passed,” notes the author, Sen. Roger Niello of Sacramento County, who recently was elected the next Senate minority leader. “If they kill it [in appropriations] nobody has to vote on it and it dies without fingerprints.”
That’s common legislative games-playing: Keep potentially popular but politically undesirable bills off chamber floors so majority party members can avoid shamefully voting “no.”
But these are still excellent Republican ideas.
There are times when politics should be taken out of elections.
Kelvin Washington: Hello, and welcome to this week’s episode of The Envelope. Kelvin Washington, Yvonne Villarreal and Mark Olsen here. We’ve been talking about it now for the last couple of weeks, but we’re less than a month away from the Emmys. Mariska Hargitay is gonna be the host. I’m looking forward to that because who’s living a better life than her? She’s nominated, of course. She’s hosting. And her Knicks won the NBA championship — she’s at this point an honorary Knick. I mean, it’s like she’s on the team.
Yvonne Villarreal: And she went to the Taylor Swift wedding.
Washington: That’s a good point.
Villarreal: Don’t forget that. And starring on Broadway.
Washington: So she is living her best life, yeah.
Villarreal: She’s living a better life than I am.
Washington: So I’m going to answer the question first. I’m gonna ask you, what are you looking forward to [at the Emmys]? Maybe some things you’re excited for. For me, it’s just seeing this culmination of all these things for her and just having a big moment there. I think she’s gonna own that space and I think everybody’s gonna enjoy it as well. What are you looking forward to?
Villarreal: I’m really, really excited to see my beloved Philip and Elizabeth Jennings as nominees — Matthew Rhys and Keri Russell. Not to be parasocial, but I just love that they’re both nominated. I just want a magical night for them both.
Mark Olsen: I don’t want to be a bring-down bummer here, but, you know, I find that the Emmys in particular, even more than the Oscars, kind of play favorites, and the same winners can happen again and again. It’s not as bad as it may once have been, but I’m always rooting for new blood, first-time nominees, people that it’s exciting to see them kind of get this platform. So nothing against your beloved, but I would be excited to see an underdog or somebody kind of an outsider. Say, for example, the rest of the cast of “Widow’s Bay,” which as you’ve said before, really came out of nowhere, [and] it’s become a bit of a favorite this season. And there’s some other performers there, Dale Dickey, Stephen Root, Kate O’Flynn, and I think any of them winning would be really exciting.
Villarreal: I won’t argue with that.
Washington: I was waiting on an argument.
Villarreal: We fight off camera.
Washington: And by the way, Mark, I mean, can good be good? Or great be great? If I’m great 10 years in a row, can I just be great 10 years in a row and win? You’re putting limitations on my victories.
Olsen: Yeah, but at some point, your shelf is full.
Washington: That’s true. Don’t worry about what’s going on in my mantle, all right?
That being said, we got Matthew Rhys, who you had a chance to speak to. Double nominee here, “Widow’s Bay” and “The Beast in Me.” Tell me a little bit more about your conversation.
Olsen: Just a rare double nominee, lead actor in a comedy series with “Widow’s Bay,” and then lead actor in a limited or anthology series or movie with “The Beast in Me.” And I think what’s exciting here is that these are just two very different performances. He’s this manipulative, maybe psychopathic real estate developer in “The Beast in Me,” and then this kind of harried, put-upon single dad and mayor of a small, cursed New England island in “Widow’s Bay,” and I think both of these roles show new sides of Matthew to audiences. But then when you take them together, it just feels like something else entirely.
Washington: All right, well let’s take a look. It’s M&M — Matthew and Mark — here now.
Matthew Rhys.
(Ebru Yildiz / For The Times)
Mark Olsen: For the Los Angeles Times and The Envelope, I’m Mark Olsen. I’m here today with Matthew Rhys, who is nominated for an Emmy for lead actor in a comedy series for “Widow’s Bay” [and] lead actor in a limited or anthology series [or movie] for “The Beast in Me,” and another nomination as executive producer on “Widow’s Bay.”
Matthew Rhys: I forgot about the executive producer part. It’s an exciting time.
Olsen: And now being nominated for these two performances, which are very different performances —
Rhys: [whispers] They’re not really.
Olsen: Now tell me about that. You don’t think they are?
Rhys: Look, I think I was about to speak for a number of actors and I shouldn’t. I can only speak for myself. Sometimes there’s seemingly or feels like there’s very little difference in them. I’m not, I don’t pretend to be an enormously transformative actor, hunting for the “chameleon” praise.
Olsen: But do you consider yourself versatile? It’s so interesting to me to hear you say you don’t see these roles as that different.
Rhys: I wouldn’t say I’m versatile in that chameleon-like way or transformative way, I just try to work from a place… We’re already into it.
Olsen: That’s what we’re here for.
Rhys: I know. It always makes me nauseous. I do try to live in a place that feels real to me and that what we talk about, working from your center. So when I move away from that, things start to feel insincere, so I tend not to.
Olsen: With “Widow’s Bay,” a lot of the coverage around it has been talking about how it’s been a real surprise hit. And I’m just wondering, what is it that you think that audiences are responding to?
Rhys: You know, timing is everything. I do think there was a place that was ready for “Widow’s Bay,” whereby nothing of the sort had been around for a while. You hadn’t had “Twin Peaks,” although we were kind of slightly “The Office,” “Twin Peaks,” sprinkling of “Northern Exposure” maybe, but nothing I think of that sort had been for a while. So I think people were just ready for something different, and then we’re certainly different.
Olsen: Betty Gilpin, your co-star on the show, she is also a nominee, in a recent interview said that she feels like it’s as if audiences are rejecting this idea of a really sort of safe, algorithm-approved show. And do you feel the same?
Rhys: Absolutely, and it’s wildly refreshing to know that people are going, “No, we want something different. And we are intelligent enough to deal with it. So give it to us.” And that I found very, very inspiring, very encouraging — that television and film should be pushing itself continually for that original material and not relying on remakes.
Olsen: When did you realize that the show was connecting in the way that it is? I’ve seen in some other interviews you say that even when you were shooting it, you weren’t totally sure, didn’t totally think that it would connect with people.
Rhys: No, none of us — a lot of us were like, “Are we getting the tone right? Is this right? Is this going to work?” It was a swing. It was an absolute swing. A kind of beautiful one, nonetheless. But we were all concerned — not concerned, maybe just intrigued — as to how it would be received. And it was a little bit more word of mouth. Friends were saying, “Oh, I’ve seen your show.” And then throughout my career, it’s probably the job I’ve been stopped most for. And I’m not saying that happens often. But at least twice I’ve been stopped for it. So that’s been refreshing.
Olsen: And people are really talking a lot about this mix of tones. It’s a horror-comedy that’s both very much funny and scary. What was the challenge of getting that mix right?
Rhys: Making both real, ultimately. I know that sounds very obvious and stupid, but it’s true. And also Katie Dippold spoke to this, the creator and writer, where she said she kind of thought one can almost relieve the other. When there’s incredible tension from horror, when the laugh comes in, it’s almost a big laugh because it’s the relief of being allowed to laugh. So she says sometimes that can pay off in a way. It’s much harder the other way around, but it also works the other way around where you catch an audience off guard because they’re laughing and then you hit them with horror. So I think both bizarrely can help each other.
Olsen: I’m thinking about something like the episode that’s mostly on a boat, that gets very sort of slapstick-y at moments, but then there’s still something very terrifying about what’s happening there.
Rhys: Yes, we’ve hit the nail on the head. That kind of tone I found very hard. There are these borderline farcical moments of wrestling with a man who’s 400 years old and it becoming kind of very comedic physically and yet it has to remain that there’s this element of danger or threat that’s very real and palpable. And so those are the moments you try and ground in a way so that the extreme elements can also live in a real place.
Olsen: Because you mentioned a man who’s 400 years old, the mythology of the show gets more complicated as it goes along, right up until the very last episode. Were there moments where you had to sort of step aside and ask people to explain it to you?
Rhys: No, because I think the chronology is laid out beautifully throughout the series and you’re kind of led in a way where it unfolds very organically. So I was very relieved that to be the case that there’s no kind of, “Wait, where are we? What’s, who’s this?” So that I thought was kind of beautifully executed. And because of that, because of the detail in the backstory, then the story I think pays off far greater.
Olsen: The final episode really lands it so well as far as being both funny and scary and also the way that it sets up a next season, which happily is happening. The finale promises even more murder and mayhem for Season 2. I know the writers room is already hard at work. Do you have any insights on what at least you would like to see happen?
Rhys: No, I’m desperately intrigued as to what she has in mind because I wouldn’t have the first clue as to where to start Season 2. I’m very assured that the warped mind of Katie Dippold will helm us into a giddy storm.
Olsen: One thing I have to ask about “Widow’s Bay” is simply, in preparing to play this small-town mayor who’s very concerned about tourist season, did you refer at all to maybe the most famous other small-town mayor played by Murray Hamilton in “Jaws”?
Rhys: Well, I would like to say yes because “Jaws” is an enormous favorite of mine, but he’s a very different mayor, if you look at his mayor. He’s very assured. He gets a little frustrated with Brody, but he’s not that kind of cortisol-burning, wild-eyed panic that Tom Loftis is. He is far more assured of what he should be doing for the municipality than Tom is. I even said at one point, I said, “Can we get away with the jacket, you know, the anchor jacket?” And they were like, no, because that would be too obvious.
Olsen: I like that you had the impulse.
Rhys: A lot of my performances have some reference to “Jaws,” regardless of the piece, because I’m usually Quint. So I was very upset in the boat scene you referenced when obviously myself, Stephen Root and Hamish Linklater sat around and said, OK, Stephen Root, you are obviously Quint, what does that make Hamish and myself? Who’s [Richard] Dreyfuss and who’s Roy Scheider in this? And Hamish went, “Well, I’m Dreyfuss.” I was like, “I am not Brody.” They’re like, “You’re wearing the life jacket. Of course you’re Brody!” This is the kind of thing actors talk about.
Olsen: But you weren’t happy with that?
Rhys: I’ve always wanted to be Quint. I love Brody, but my heart lies with Quint
Olsen: Now, I came to realize that “Brothers and Sisters,” it goes back 20 years now that you were on that show. And I’m just so curious, working steadily in TV for 20 years now, how has the job of being an actor on TV changed in that time?
Rhys: I don’t think it’s changed, per se. From a personal point of view, it’s been incredible to play the wide variety that I’ve been allowed to. I think the scope of television has changed wildly in 20 years and the length and breadth of the variety there is kind of remarkable at times. And sometimes you wonder if it’s sustainable. If anything, it’s offered more opportunities, I think, for actors, but the kind of core fundamentals I think are still the same.
Olsen: Do you yourself watch a lot of TV?
Rhys: Yes, yes. I never watch myself, but yes. I tend to lean towards more documentaries than anything else. Fiction, I’m always like, “Oh, that’s the day job.”
Olsen: Because I know you’ve talked a lot about your interest in boats, and is there a lot of boats-and-restoration content out there?
Rhys: What, fiction or documentary-wise?
Olsen: I wonder what your algorithm is like.
Rhys: I don’t do much with Instagram but my algorithm is generally older men showing you how to kind of spile a garboard plank next to a keel, things like that.
Olsen: And are there a lot of documentaries about boats and restoration?
Rhys: There’s a lot on YouTube, none of which really hold your attention. What I think is like, where is the kind of “Chef’s Table” of boat restoration? That’s what I’m waiting for.
Olsen: I think you maybe have to be the one to make that show.
Rhys: I might have to, but I worry about the breadth of audience we’d have there. Or how to make boat restoration interesting to the masses. Therein lies the challenge.
Olsen: Well, they say niche markets sometimes …
Rhys: You can capture a zeitgeist moment.
Olsen: With your work on television, you have a really strong track record between “Brothers and Sisters,” “The Americans,” “Perry Mason,” now with “Widow’s Bay,” and also with “The Beast in Me.” For you, what goes into choosing a role?
Rhys: This is the real luxury of having a degree of choice. It’s not always choice, but more often than not, a project comes along that I’ll read and there’ll be a number of things. I’ll be like, “Ooh, I’ve never done it.” Like “Widow’s Bay,” I read it and I went, “The scripts are fantastic and I have never done anything like this in my life.” “Beast in Me,” the same, the writing’s so strong, but also that role is something I’d never done before. And the same, obviously, for “The Americans” and “Brothers and Sisters.” So if there’s an opportunity to try something very new, to me, it’s the ultimate luxury. And so that’s been a real driving force. And strong stories, the want of knowing how it ends, just simple storytelling.
Olsen: Do you find that your instincts have changed over the years? Are you looking for the same things that you feel like you were when you were starting in television 20 years ago?
Rhys: No, not necessarily. I always wanted, if I was fortunate enough, to do something that would challenge me, that would push me, that I hadn’t done, that’d scare me, that’d make me nervous every day on set, which a lot of these projects have done. I thought that would be all that I’d want.
Olsen: Because your character in “The Beast in Me,” again, I have to come back to this idea that you think these two roles are kind of similar, because your character on “The Beast in Me” seems so self-assured, like he has a confidence that Loftis does not have.
Rhys: Yes, that is very true and it was the observation of the wealthy that kind of led me there and especially uber-wealth, where there’s a real assurance of not having to try almost because there’s no need and this innate feeling that you will absolutely get your own way and people will bend to your will purely because of wealth.
Olsen: And now playing that role, getting a little taste of that, like, is that a nice place?
Rhys: What, self-assured?
Olsen: Is that a good position to be in, that people do what you want.
Rhys: Oh, I’m sure it’s great. I’ve never tasted it. It’s something I aspire to by the hour. And being riddled with all the cliched insecurities that every other actor, when you’re playing it, you go, “God, this feels great. To not even have to try with people must be so wonderful.” I’ve no desire to kind of glean the kind of affirmation from the person I’m talking to. Almost quite the opposite.
Olsen: “Widow’s Bay” has such a big ensemble, and then in “The Beast in Me,” really most of your scenes are just you and Claire Danes in this series of escalating conversations. Did you like that distinction? For “The Beast in Me,” did you like the pared-back intimacy of those scenes that the two of you have?
Rhys: Absolutely. I think that was the big draw of the piece, these two people who are kind of, they’re like two magnets in a way, they’re so drawn, they are so repulsed, they’re kind of images of each other’s shadow self, they see so much of each other while [being] polarizingly different. That to me was part of the great draw of that piece, with these two people and how they connected or seemingly didn’t.
Olsen: I don’t think you’ve worked with Claire Danes before?
Rhys: Prior to that, no.
Olsen: Because just in a practical sense, what is it like for two actors when you have so many of your scenes together? Like you sort of have to feel out not only how the characters are, but also how you as performers, as work colleagues, get through the day. What is that process like?
Rhys: I mean, look, with Claire, having known and watched her body of work, [I knew] she’s like a powerhouse and kind of brings that to set. And from day one of rehearsals, I kind of sat up and went, “Oh God, right, come on, let’s focus here,” because she has that laser that is on a switch. And when it’s switched, it’s on. And woe betide you if you haven’t prepared as well as she has. So that was very quick. The ascent of going, “Right, yes, A-game at all times, please.” Which is fantastic. It’s everything you want in a scene partner. It’s someone who kind of scares you and kind of raises your game and demands, you know, a kind of a better tennis game, although I’ve never played tennis. I’m sure it’s great.
Olsen: Do you feel like you’re that kind of actor too?
Rhys: No. I’m the one making fart jokes and then kind of going, “Will you concentrate?” I don’t think I have that kind of prowess, that kind of switch [that] is so alarmingly kind of night and day. I creak into it.
Olsen: Because there’s an intensity to your performance here. I mean, it goes big at times, there’s the “Psycho Killer” dance —
Rhys: The Achilles’ heel. I begged them to remove that scene because anywhere I see the scene direction “He dances” or “[Character] dances,” I can taste the vomit in my own mouth.
Olsen: And now did you choreograph that ahead of time?
Rhys: Nope, I just went for it. In fact a very charming woman came up to me on the street and she goes, “I love ‘The Beast in Me’ and I loved how camp your dancing was.” And I went, “Oh, it wasn’t meant to be necessarily camp.” Well, clearly it was to her. And also playing drunk, drunk and dancing, I was like, “Oh, some vicious planets are aligning.”
Olsen: And do you have a trick to drunk acting?
Rhys: Yes, I get drunk. It’s a very simple trick that most actors overlook. You just drink and then you’re drunk. The only time I venture into Method acting.
Olsen: But then about how many takes do you have in you?
Rhys: Two. No, no, I didn’t get drunk. I got tipsy. No, no it’s very different. It’s hard, it’s hard. That’s always a hard one because also we shot that over the entire day. So it started at like 8 a.m.And to be perfectly honest, sometimes you’ll do a take and it’s like, the drunk acting is too apparent. Let’s bring it back. Claire Danes nailed drunk acting from take one. And I was like, god— it! I mean, she’s done it again.
Olsen: And then also the chicken scene, how many chickens did you have to eat?
Rhys: I come into my own. Eating on screen is not and never has been a problem for me. I will take down any amount of food and I will not ask for a spit bucket. They were like, “Oh, we have a spit bucket.” I think, “No, I’m not spitting up perfectly good chicken” — and it was really good chicken. I think I went through about three chickens. What I loved about that scene, and this is what I love about all good writing, is when a brief element, usually it’s wordless, can say so much about a character or what the character is trying to do to the person in the room through a very simple action. So I loved that from what it did in that moment. He’s doing it overtly to try and intimidate her. It’s something which says so much about him and the way he does it, I thought it was an incredibly beautiful and shrewd piece of writing.
Olsen: Over the course of the series, how did you modulate how crazy to seem?
Rhys: Because it’s kind of present from the get-go. And that was a heavy reliance on the directors. We had some incredible directors on that. Antonio Campos, who kind of began and ended us, we had a little bit of a dial, and he was like, “Bring it back a bit” or “I think it needs a little more.” He was very good at truly kind of conducting in that moment. And we had the luxury of being able to do a few takes where he’s like, “Bring it up a bit” or, “OK, that’s good, let’s take it down a bit.”
Olsen: Were you happy with how that ended up?
Rhys: I don’t watch it. I haven’t watched myself in about 10 years. I get stuck on the wrong things. I become too concerned about the way I use my hands or how strange my walk is or the weird kind of idiosyncrasy of my mouth. So then when I’m doing it next, I’m like, “I am not going to do anything with my hands and I’m going to change my walk.” And then the director is like, “What is wrong with your walk and why are you sitting on your hands?” So I tend not to watch myself.
Olsen: You said 10 years ago. Did something really make you be like, “I’m not doing that anymore?”
Rhys: In fairness, it was more than 10 years ago. It was “Brothers and Sisters.” I started watching that and I was like, “Oh my God. Why has no one said anything? Look at my posture.” And then you become obsessed with sitting with better posture. And then everyone’s like, “Why are you sitting weirdly?” I was never clever enough to take from it a kind of positive critical foundation. I was taking the wrong things, usually physically attributed, that would get in my head when I was acting. And then that’s all I could think about while I was doing it, and I was on a road to ruin.
Olsen: So often you’re doing an American accent or a voice that is not your own and I know for myself I feel like I wouldn’t be able to think about anything but that, that’s all I would be able think about while I was performing.
Rhys: The accent is strange because I think in one way such an enormous part of my head is always working on the next sound to come out of my mouth. I think it stops you in a way from kind of acting, if that makes sense. It takes the self-conscious element out of you because you’re so busy working on something else. My acting teacher from drama school would always say, “Give yourself something to do to stop yourself acting.” It’s like you’re spending so much time thinking about the way you sound, it can relax you in a different way because you’re not thinking about acting.
Olsen: And then is it also a big challenge for you to try to make different American accents? How hard is it for you to do those different American sounds?
Rhys: It depends on the accent. I mean, sometimes the more extreme sounds are easier to hook into, like, you know, the Southern states or Boston or New York. Then you get, you know, California’s kind of softer, so it’s harder. It doesn’t have that extreme hook to find. And then there are just simply words in the American dialect that can take me down, like “murderer” or “world,” sometimes “girl” is tricky. But “murderer.” Which is unfortunate, because I played lawyers, spies who kill people. I’ve had to say it a lot. So I always go, “Can I say ‘killer’?” I just sound like I run out of battery.
Olsen: Do you find that living in America, has it helped you?
Rhys: Oh, without question, because going into a job, a couple of weeks before, I’ll be doing it — not at home, because it drives the kids crazy. They’re like, “He sounds so fake.” And then they’re like “Oh, here he is, he’s doing that again.” I’m like, “I’m not Dick Van Dyke, so I don’t know who you’re impersonating.” So yeah, you can go into the bodega and pretend to be American.
Olsen: On the day that Emmy nominations were announced, you did an interview with my colleague, Yvonne Villarreal, and you told her that you were meeting your partner, Keri Russell, also an Emmy nominee, at a mystery location. Would you mind completing that story? Where did you go?
Rhys: We went to the U.N. No, we didn’t, but I wish I could say that. We went to the Armory in New York with, oh God, I can’t remember the name of the exhibition. It was an incredible exhibition where three enormous tanks of water were filled with water and ceramic bowls and a current was introduced and then these ceramic bowls would clank into each other to make different noises in this incredible space. It was wondrous. Now, if the artist, for some unknown reason, watches this and goes, “I can’t believe he didn’t remember my name or the name of the exhibition,” I apologize profusely. But it was incredible.
Olsen: That sounds like a great way to spend the day.
Rhys: Yeah, it was. It was fantastic. And then we had a great dinner and celebrated and said, you know, “This is the high point, it’s downhill from here on out.”
Olsen: Well, the two of you were recently referred to as television’s first couple.
Rhys: I said that.
Olsen: And I’m wondering, I can only imagine you don’t walk around thinking of yourself —
Rhys: Oh, no, I do. I have a badge and a T-shirt, but no one believes me.
Olsen: But what does that make you think of when you hear yourselves referred to in that way?
Rhys: It kind of makes me laugh. You go, “Oh, God.” And also — and I hate to sound like I’m some bitter old fool, but I am — we’ve done it a long time. We’re of a certain age. You kind of know tomorrow there’s another first couple. So you go, “We’re today’s first couple, and it’s great. And we’ll take it and we’ll enjoy it.”
Olsen: Do you find, especially in the way that your personal and professional lives are intertwined, is it good that you have each other to keep yourselves in check?
Rhys: Yes, it also helps that you have a partner that fully understands what you do, because it’s a mad circus life and sometimes, you know, it’s hard, I think, for partners who don’t quite understand how crazy it is. So it is great in that respect that you fully understand what the other one is doing.
Olsen: And is that also part of where your interest in boats comes from? Is it something that’s totally separate?
Rhys: So she could kick me out of the house is why she bought me the boat.
Olsen: There’s something just totally separate from your work life.
Rhys: Absolutely, absolutely. And it’s something so other. … Opinions can vary so wildly, you know, critics can contradict each other in certain criticisms. The kind of more simple aspect, especially when I was restoring the boat, was that it felt a lot purer and simpler. That you can, at the end of the day, you look back at this piece of wood you’d be working on and go, “There we are, I did that.” And there’s no one saying, “Well, you could have done it this way.” You know what I mean? I always enjoyed the satisfaction it gave me in that sense.
Olsen: Wait, how many boats do you have?
Rhys: I only have one. She’s for sale, if anyone’s interested.
Olsen: Do you want to now find another boat to do this all over again?
Rhys: I don’t, because my wrists have given up. It was much harder than I thought it was going to be. It was an incredible journey, and it was kind of inspired by Hemingway, in a way, it was the same class of boat that he had. So I had all these giddy, kind of rose-tinted romantic notions of what I was doing until I was knee-deep in fiberglass, going, “Why did I think this was a good idea?”
The high desert is not typically a place you look for a wave. But in the vast expanse between the Sierra Nevada and Utah border, a not-exactly-wide-open race for Congress is testing whether a blue wave, should one come November, is ankle-high or something more akin to a political tsunami.
Nevada’s 2nd District has been represented by just four lawmakers since its creation more than 40 years ago. All those representatives have been Republicans.
November’s contest should be another shoo-in for the GOP and its nominee, David Flippo. The district, which takes in northern Nevada, is overwhelmingly white and rural, which makes it solidly conservative. In 2024, Donald Trump beat Kamala Harris by a decisive 56% to 42%; only Washoe County, home to Reno, kept things that close. Trump won other portions of the district by 50 percentage points or more.
“It will be an interesting summer and fall,” Mark Amodei, who has represented the district for 15 years, wrote on social media after the June primary. “But I believe it’s fair to say that CD-2, for the first time in its history, isn’t a Republican guarantee.”
That’s just about the kindest thing the congressman has had to say about his would-be successor.
All of which make the sprawling district in Nevada’s rough and rocky Great Basin an improbable political bellwether. A win on such forbidding terrain would almost certainly mean a nationwide Democratic gain of 30 or more seats in November; they need to flip just three to take control of the House.
Flippo, 63, a 25-year Air Force veteran and Trump stalwart, arrived in the district from Las Vegas. He ran for Congress there in 2024, losing in the Republican primary. He was preparing for a second try in the Democratic-leaning 4th District when Amodei unexpectedly announced his retirement in February. So Flippo hightailed it north to run in the far more hospitable 2nd District.
He took on the favored candidate of Amodei and others in the GOP establishment, James Settelmeyer, a former minority leader of the state Senate. Backed by a constellation of MAGA celebrities, Flippo waged a fiercely negative campaign, accusing “Tampon Jim” of voting to put menstrual products in boys’ bathrooms and coddling undocumented immigrants, among other distortions. With Trump’s endorsement, Flippo handily defeated Settelmeyer and 11 other primary opponents.
“”Absolutely scurrilous campaign against … one of the nicest guys around,” Amodei said afterward, on the program “Nevada Newsmakers.” “The voters are never wrong. But guess what? Mark Amodei’s not endorsing [Flippo.] I wish him all the best. No way. No, thank you.”
Apart from his exceedingly short-term residency in the district, questions have also been raised about Flippo’s opaque finances. He has lent his campaign more than $1.6 million and failed to provide the personal disclosure information required of federal candidates. There is also no record of Flippo filing the required statement during his 2024 campaign, according to the Washington news outlet NOTUS.
In addition, it reported that Flippo was fired from a job in the financial services industry after his company accused him of violating policies and regulations.
So, a carpetbagger with a sketchy history.
Flippo’s main opponent is Teresa Benitez-Thompson, 48, a longtime Reno resident, former member of the state Assembly and a relatively moderate Democrat. Those credentials also buoy Democratic hopes. The party’s congressional campaign committee has, for the first time in decades, added Nevada’s 2nd District to its target list, though it remains to be seen how much time and money national Democrats commit to the race.
To prevail, Benitez-Thompson would have to defy political gravity, which is to say overcome the reflexive partisanship that has typified politics in this age of deep voter polarization.
In the last two midterm elections, according to the Pew Research Center, more than 90% of Republican and Republican-leaning voters supported GOP candidates for the House. In other words, the kind of crossover voters that Benitez-Thompson needs to win have become rare indeed.
““Trump is a huge liability for Republicans; there is no question that the GOP is going to have huge turnout problems, meaning that in a lot of races, Democrats are going to greatly exceed expectations,” the veteran election handicapper Charlie Cook wrote in a recent midterm analysis. “But converting Republican voters to actually back a Democrat — even for a day — is so much harder now.”
“Some of those rural Nevada voters would rather commit hara-kiri than vote for a Democrat,” Ralston said. (No, Japan’s ancient suicide ritual is not particularly associated with honor or custom in the cow counties, as Nevada’s lightly populated stretches are known. But you get the point.)
“I don’t think it’s impossible,” Ralston, founder and chief executive of the Nevada Independent news site, said of a Democratic upset. “But I remain skeptical.”
Here’s the thing, though, about wave elections — and, to be clear, your friendly political columnist is offering no predictions ahead of November. Like a massive ocean swell, which can bear all kinds of flotsam and jetsam ashore, a political wave that is big enough, broad enough and strong enough can carry all manner of unlikely candidates to victory.
That’s not partiality or wish casting on the part of your friendly political columnist. The fact is Democrats and Democratic-leaning independents overwhelmingly outnumber Republicans in California, in both registration and inclination.
The gregarious and media-savvy Hilton has been waging an energetic and effervescent run for governor, with multiple appearances a day and frequent updates to his cheeky social media accounts.
“He’s going to San Francisco” — into the bowels of the liberal beast — “he’s going into schools, talking to labor groups,” said Hector Barajas, a campaign spokesman. “He’ll go everywhere.”
Becerra not so much.
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That said, if Hilton is flat-out running for a job he stands virtually no chance of winning, Becerra is embarked on more of a leisurely stroll toward his all-but-certain perch in Sacramento.
That’s not a terrible thing at this midsummer stage of the race. Once, in the blessed era before the 24/7 news cycle and the omnipresence of social media, there was a lull in the months after the primary, with campaign activities picking back up around Labor Day.
On Tuesday, during a walking tour of Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo neighborhood, Becerra pushed back on the notion he was taking his election — and California voters — for granted. “If I were trying to coast,” he told reporters, “I’d be out on the coast right now instead of here with you all.”
Becerra’s pace aside, the days between now and the Nov. 3 election offer him plenty of time to spell out what, exactly, he has to offer his home state and how, in a broad sense, he plans to tackle one of the highest profile, most vexing jobs in all of American politics.
At least one of those days should include a face-to-face debate between Hilton and Becerra. The two shared a stage multiple times during the primary season. They have not appeared together since.
More than a half-dozen news organizations have offered to host the gubernatorial rivals in a one-on-one session. Several other groups have proposed forums that would allow them to discuss their differences together in person.
Barajas, the spokesman for Hilton’s campaign, said the Republican hopeful has agreed to each and every invitation.
“He’s got absolutely no problem” appearing anytime or anywhere, Barajas said. “He will go to East L.A.. He will go to South-Central. He will go into the heart of the Central Valley. It doesn’t matter to him.”
That’s no surprise.
When a candidate is an underdog, like Hilton, they’ll typically show up at the opening of an envelope if it means appearing before a crowd. Conversely, a candidate on a seeming glide path to election, like Becerra, will often balk at giving their opponent the exposure afforded by a debate, much less risk harming themselves with a bad performance.
There’s a lot of virtue signaling that surrounds the notion of candidate debates.
Far from a high-minded discussion of policy differences, they often devolve into a stale recitation of talking points and pre-scripted zingers. After a while, debates can grow redundant and, frankly, boring as contestants repeat well-worn phrases and replow deeply furrowed ground. Such was the case by the time California’s gubernatorial hopefuls met for their sixth televised debate in the spring.
Most voters — many of whom profess to care oh-so-deeply about issues and matters of great import — don’t even bother tuning in. If they found debates that captivating, shows such as the “PBS NewsHour” would routinely outdraw the latest season of “Love Island USA.”
No matter.
There is an audience, however limited, for debates. Even if they don’t bother watching, many voters read about the encounters afterward, catch snippets online, or glean useful insights from the extensive coverage that follows.
Above all, a willingness to debate is a sign of respect — for voters as well as the political process the candidates are a part of. Minimizing direct confrontation with Hilton may play to Becerra’s inherently cautious nature. It also makes sense from a purely strategic standpoint.
But it doesn’t serve the people of California, or give voters their due. This is a campaign for governor. Not a coronation.
Becerra owes California, and Hilton, the chance to take the candidates’ measure side by side before their contest is over. The sooner Becerra commits to a time and place, the better.
