Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s that magical time once again: when signs litter our lawns, your mailbox is stuffed with more junk than a teenage boy’s closet, and every TV commercial break is a soap opera from the bold and the ridiculous. Ah yes, election season, also known as the period when we collectively lose our minds. This year, the circus is touring upstate New York for a House primary that might as well be the Super Bowl for Democrats.
Apparently, Democrats have convinced themselves that their best chance to flip a seat is right in Syracuse. Yeah, you heard that right. Syracuse. The place whose most famous export is a university mascot that looks like a basketball. But hey, maybe that should be reassuring. If we can fill a stadium for a giant orange ball of felt, surely we can fill a House seat with someone competent, right?
What’s the plan, you ask?
Mud-slinging and catfights.
It’s looking like Fight Club with how these candidates are going at each other. You’ve got everyone pulling out their best dance moves to trample whatever chances the other guy might have. And these aren’t your usual two-steppers; it’s more like watching a dance-off at a wedding after everyone’s had too many drinks.
First up, we have candidate number one, the so-called savior of democracy: a middle-aged man with the charisma of a damp sponge but a LinkedIn profile longer than War and Peace. This guy’s solid pitch? “I am boring but competent.” Well, good luck, buddy. In a world where the most interesting thing people do is rage tweet, you’re going to have to spice that up. Maybe take salsa classes or start a scandal – whatever floats your voter’s boat.
Next, we’ve got the candidate who’s looking to disrupt the status quo, which sounds exciting until you realize that their idea of disruption is probably moving the office fern closer to the window. They’re younger, more relatable, and have a social media presence that suggests they can Photoshop themselves next to anyone. But, hey, they’re promising a revolution. Only problem is, I don’t think anybody gave them the message that this isn’t 1776. Buy a dictionary, kiddos: “revolution” doesn’t mean redoing the breakroom.
And don’t even get me started on the policy debates. If I have to hear another thirty-minute discussion on transportation infrastructure delivered with the intensity of a funeral director, I might hurl. These folks are so deep in the weeds, you need a machete just to understand what they’re talking about. One minute they’re talking about extending a bus route; the next, they’re deep into zoning laws like they’re narrating a crime noir.
Voters’ views?
Confusion and mild irritation.
Every voter I’ve spoken to sounds like they’re about to have an existential crisis. Most are so baffled by the candidates that they’ve resorted to the age-old method of eeny, meeny, miny, moe. One lady told me she picks based on name aesthetics. Another said she likes to vote for the person who’s got the nicest smile. Because nothing says “let’s manage a federal budget” like a set of pearly whites.
Let’s not forget the media circus around this. By the time election day rolls around, we’ll know more about these candidates’ personal lives than we know about our own extended relatives. And isn’t that what we all want? To wake up every morning to find out that candidate number one got caught wearing mismatched socks and candidate number two’s third-cousin’s step-child once jaywalked in 2009. Scandalous!
And then there’s the debates. I use that term loosely because these debates are less about discussing policies and more about who can dodge a question better. These folks evade queries like they’re dodging Nerf bullets at a 12-year-old’s birthday party. Moderators ask a question on healthcare, and the candidates give answers that could double as modern art: abstract, confusing, and open to interpretation.
The solution, as always, lies in alcohol.
My advice to everyone in Syracuse: Get drunk. It’s the only way to make this bearable. Turn it into a drinking game. Every time a candidate starts a sentence with “Let me clarify,” do a shot. Every time someone uses the phrase “grassroots support,” chug. You’ll be so blitzed by the end that you won’t even care if you’re voting for a person or a potted plant.
In all seriousness, let’s hope Syracuse can rise above the chaos and actually make a smart decision. If we’re lucky, we’ll get someone who not only knows what they’re doing but can do it without making us all want to bang our heads against a wall.
So let’s raise a glass to the madness. May there be fewer mailers, less mud-slinging, and more actual substance. Because if we can’t have that, well, we might as well start electing the mascots.
Source: Inside the upstate NY House primary where Dems stand best chance of defeating GOP in November
