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"I like to say I gave up an eight-minute commute for an eight-hour commute," he says wearily, running a hand though salt-and-pepper hair as he watches his two sons play basketball for the first time this season. After the aging General Motors plant where he worked for 23 years was idled about a year ago, Hanley faced a Hobson's choice: Stay with his family and search for an autoworker's salary ($28 an hour) in a county where more than 40 percent of its manufacturing jobs disappeared from 2006 to 2009. Or hang on to his GM paycheck and health insurance and follow the job, no matter where it leads. In his case, it led to Fairfax, Kan., the same place his brother and two brothers-in-law — also GM workers, and now his roommates — landed. For others, it has been Indiana or Texas. The long commute is not just a story of hard times, tough choices and a shrinking American auto industry. It's also a case study of what happens when an aging industrial town loses an anchor, when workers too old to start over and too young to retire are caught in a squeeze and when economic survival means one family, but two far-flung ZIP codes.

BOLD FARMING: Pesticide used at a marijuana grow site in Sequoia National Park in California is prepared for removal by helicopter. (Photo: Gary Kazanjian/AP) Not far from Yosemite's waterfalls and in the middle of California's redwood forests, Mexican drug gangs are quietly commandeering U.S. public land to grow millions of marijuana plants and using smuggled immigrants to cultivate them.   Pot has been grown on public lands for decades, but Mexican traffickers have taken it to a whole new level: using armed guards and trip wires to safeguard sprawling plots that in some cases contain tens of thousands of plants offering a potential yield of more than 30 tons of pot a year.

Opposition Republicans are using the delaying tactic at a record-setting pace. "The numbers are astonishing in this Congress," says Jim Riddlesperger, political science professor at Texas Christian University in Fort Worth. The filibuster, using seemingly endless debate to block legislative action, has become entrenched like a dandelion tap root in the midst of the shrill partisanship gripping Washington. But the filibuster is nothing new. Its use dates to the mists of Senate history, but until the civil rights era, it was rarely used.

As a matter of political philosophy, the concept of the filibuster arises from a deep-seated, historic concern among Americans that the minority not be steamrolled by the majority. It is a brake and protective device rooted in the same U.S. political sensibility that gave each state two senators regardless of population. The same impulse gave Americans the Electoral College in presidential contests — a structure from earliest U.S. history designed to give smaller population states greater influence in choosing the nation's leader. Given recent use of the filibuster by minority Republicans and the party's success in snarling the legislative process in this Congress, Democrats say the minority has gone way beyond just protecting its interests. The frequency of filibusters — plus threats to use them — are measured by the number of times the upper chamber votes on cloture. Such votes test the majority's ability to hold together 60 members to break a filibuster. In the 110th Congress of 2007-2008, with Republicans in the minority, there were a record 112 cloture votes. In the current session of Congress — the 111th — for all of 2009 and the first two months of 2010 the number already exceeds 40. The most the filibuster has been used when Democrats were in the minority was 58 times in the 106th Congress of 1999-2000.

Proponents of comprehensive regulatory reform hope for sweeping measures to protect consumers from predatory lending, rein in high-stakes Wall Street trading in arcane derivatives, boost capital requirements for banks that want to bet big with depositors' money and spread some regulatory sunshine on the dark pools of the “shadow banking system” that caught regulators flat-footed when the market spiraled into the abyss in the fall of 2008. “We cannot afford to let the status quo continue,” Sheila Bair, head of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp., told a meeting of business economists in Washington. The final law is still in doubt. Sen. Christopher Dodd, D-Conn., has pressed for reform during a year of intensely partisan bickering. On Friday, Dodd — a lame duck who announced his retirement after disclosures that he accepted favorable terms from subprime lender Countrywide Financial — claimed that the Senate Banking Committee he chairs was “days away” from wrapping up a bill. Any resolution faces a major political hurdle that has drawn the most public attention: a proposal to create a new agency to protect consumers from predatory lending and other abusive financial practices. While the "systemic risks" to the financial system may represent a bigger threat in dollar terms, voters might be more focused on the consumer impact.Dodd said that’s not hard to understand.“The subject matter of derivatives and swaps and the issue of systemic risk and too-big-to- fail seem somewhat removed from the general public,” he told CNBC after the Senate compromise was reached. “Watching my credit card go to 32 percent rates and huge fees, watching prepayment penalties on mortgages, these are things that millions of people understand.”