The Circus Barker and the Librarian
I hear about how everyone hates this campaign season. I don’t. I think we see something other than the presented character of the candidates and the parties. I think for radically diverse reasons we are seeing what these two people really are. My bias here is strong, but not disqualifying. One candidate reminds me of that commercial where the person says, “I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV.” And then goes on to give advice. The opposite is true here. e.g. “I’m not a real person but I am what I play on TV.” The idea being: an actor is someone other than their character. While this candidate is only the character. Take that away and there is nothing remaining.
On the other hand we see the exception to the rule that politicians become phonier and phonier over time. Rather than exemplifying the synthetic focus-group driven version she prefers, we end up seeing the weather ravaged, remains that have torn off the sinews of her politic. Like Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt tied to the shed’s plumbing after the storm lays waste to everything at the end of Twister, we see the near emotionally skeletal, unbent Clinton, jeering with her disingenuous smile at the storm tied to the detritus of her campaign, but still there.
This is good TV. Trump is the skilled huckster who knows more than the rubes at the carnival. Rigged? Hell yes. That’s what he loves the most. He doesn’t need to steal money from little girl groups who perform at his rally. He does it for the sheer enjoyment of showing the carnies who is the best. You don’t have to believe in anything about the carnival, the fat lady, the bearded whatever, the sword swallowing folks of the freak show. It’s enough to be chief freak. But never one of the marks who wander in to lose their cash ticket by worthless ticket before he and Kelly Ann wander into the next town to do it all again. Him barking to get the rubes in the door, and her picking their pockets wearing too much makeup, and smiling too much by half.
The Clintons meanwhile are stuck running the DMV. How they hate their job. They see you as a nuisance and that the whole place would run so much better if they didn’t have to open the doors at all. And, no, there would be no parties in that cold administrative office building. Everyone would be at their damn desk getting work done. Like all boring jobs that are needed, these people take little joy in doing them, but the forms will be in the right places and the worn velvet ropes will keep everyone where they belong. But at the end of the day they close shop at 5PM and drive home carefully to their modest homes that are about retire the mortgage.
This campaign shows how we measure the carnival barkers and civil servants. We laugh at one group and resent the other. One party is out to get you in the door while touching your ass and stroking your vanity, whatever gets you in the door. The other one sends out a notice to come renew your registration, and if you don’t like it, who cares? You just have to do it. They don’t much care if you don’t want to stand in line.
Admit it, Obama knows nothing about audacity. The blowhard capable of dumping his whole pitch on you, while pinching your girlfriend, and distracting you with the chick in the skimpy, poorly-lit clothing, knows audacity. You will leave the back of the crappy tent with no wallet, and no memory of what got you in there, nor the salacious show you anticipated but will still have a smile on your face because you, America, are a rube.
Hillary, your irritating algebra teacher, is going to win. Things will get done. You may not like it. She doesn’t care. After all she has been through you will take your seats and open your damn books. No, you may not go to the bathroom, and, no, she will not accept your late pass. You won’t like it but a grown up is going to be in charge for the next four years, and it will not be fun.