Tag Archives: Politics

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Branded!

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Herman Cain’s decision over the weekend to suspend his presidential campaign has been described as a savvy move for a number of reasons – primarily that suspending but not ending the effort means he can continue to raise money. But another line of reasoning says Cain has already had received the second biggest payoff possible in a presidential bid – he has solidified his “brand“.

So what if Cain quits now? He has succeeded in stepping on to the larger public stage, and people are not going to forget him. We can’t. We know too much about him now, thanks to the media’s relentless fascination with his peccadilloes. I asked marketing guru Spin Williams for his take on all this Cain Scrutiny. Here’s his response.

Here at The Meeting That Never Ends we’re in total agreement with Herman Cain’s handlers – now is the time to get out! Mr. Cain has received as much attention as a person is likely to get out of a presidential run short of actually BEING the NOMINEE. And if you’ve ever been an actual nominee, you know that you’ll get lots more press but it feels like less fun.

A number of my clients have asked for help “solidifying” their personal brand and a few have even wondered if they should try this “running for president” idea as a technique to nail down who they think they are.

I tell them that engaging in some Electoral Marketing certainly does force you to focus on your own agenda, especially when you have 20 debates in 10 weeks and dozens of TV cameras following you around to just to see where you go, who you meet and what you say. If you’re an attention hog, it’s great. But if you don’t take criticism well, there will be trouble. And if there’s anything you’re keeping from your family, things can get a bit awkward.

Still, if your “brand” includes specific negative qualities like “adulterer”, “bad memorizer” or “raw nonsense spouter”, a well-financed bid for the Oval Office will do more to publicize your glaring weaknesses than you could manage if you spent the same amount of money advertising them.

But there’s no need to worry. Within a few years of your startling public collapse people will tend to forget all the things you did wrong and they will only remember that they remember you somehow.

And that’s all you really need. Don’t forget – these days you don’t have to be good as long as you can stay known.

I told Spin that from now on I will see all presidential candidates as personal brand managers who are simply looking to hike their market share. I know if I ever attempted such a run, I would surely boost my main intellectual brands – Someone Who Takes A Long Time To Answer and That Guy Who Is Always Changing His Mind.

What’s your personal brand?

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If I Only Knew

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Here’s another message from the suddenly chatty Perennial Sophomore at Wendell Wilkie High School, Mr. Bubby Spamden.

Hey Mr. C.,

The guys here at school are all fired up for Rick Perry after the other night when he forgot the last thing on that list he was supposed to remember. You know how Tea Party People feel about government? High School Sophomores feel the same way about memorizing lists! So when he forgot the name of that last doomed government department that his political handlers told him he had to remember, Rick Perry won the heart of every fifteen year old guy in my class.

Not that we’re all into following the news or anything. Mr. Boozenporn brought it up in civics class and showed us the You Tube video of Perry gaffing all over the place, remembering that he wants to eliminate the Departments of Commerce and Education (of course!) and … something else. Totally blew the question. We thought it was super cool! And then Mr. B asked us this:

Is it important for the President of the United States to know stuff?

Believe it or not, we had a really good discussion! Some people think knowing stuff is what smartness is all about. Other people say knowing stuff just gets in the way of feeling what’s right. And how’s this for a coincidence? The people who are for knowing stuff already happen to know the most stuff! And the people who rely more on feeling things are the ones who fail all their tests. What are the chances of that?

When it was my turn, I got up and said the President shouldn’t be expected to know a lot of stuff because a full brain makes your head feel bloated.

You can always look things up just before you need to know them, and forget them again right after you’re done talking so your brain stays free and clear! And when you’re president, you will always have smart people hanging around who know answers. It’s like being the only cool kid in a Total Nerd High School, and they’re all forced to share their homework with you.

For example, somebody told me Herman Cain doesn’t think he needs to know the name of the president of Uzblecki Land. But that didn’t feel right. So I asked Sara Maxwell about it and she said what Cain doesn’t think he needs to know is the name of the president of Uzbecki-becki-becki-stan-stan.

They’re like, two different places! It makes a difference! Knowing who to ask when you don’t know anything is, like, really important!

Your pal,
Bubby

Is it important to know stuff?

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Go Big Or Go Home

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An elaborate text came in from the North Woods. Here’s an approximate translation from the original Ursus Textish.

Bart - The Bear Who Found a Cell Phone

Hey, Bart here.

I’ve been hearing that people are doing a victory dance over some guy shooting a great big bear not far from the Twin Cities. There’s lots of “gollees” and “gawrshes” about the bear’s height and weight – almost 650 pounds and taller than 7 feet.

True. Fella was unusually big. But he wasn’t a freak, he was a forecast.

We bears have been watching you, and can see that we’ve fallen behind in a some pretty important contests. All the wild animals have. Yup. You’re winning the temperature contest and calling the shots in the air quality contest (though we just won a small victory). And you’ve been getting bigger physically while we’ve stayed kinda the same.

All that stuff you’ve been saying about how “massive” and “enormous” and “gargantuan” this poor dead bear is – well I’ve got uncomfortable news.

We bears have been saying the same thing about you for years – ever since we woods-dwellers noticed that you two-legged comfort-junkies were having trouble squeezing through the doors of your Winnebagos. It was in the mid-90’s when word got out that an average human wouldn’t fit in a normal sized tent anymore. Talk about making a bear’s job easier! You being bigger meant it was easier to spot you from far away, simpler to hear you coming through the underbrush, and a lot less taxing to chase you down. And surprisingly, the more you ate, the more food you left scattered in your wake.

Here’s a joke we bears tell each other:
Question: How do you find a hunter when he’s downwind?
Answer: Follow the Doritos!

But then it hit us – with an average male bear weighing in at 250 pounds and an average American male human at 190 pounds, it wouldn’t be long before we’d have to run from YOU! Especially if we stumbled across you when you were feeling obsessive about your cubs! (I hear there’s a bunch of Cubs in Chicago who will never grow up!)

Anyway, let this be a notice to you. Black bears are on the move, size-wise. With our habitat shrinking and yours getting bigger, we realize that someday we’re going to stand toe-to-toe. When that day comes, you’d better hope we’re not standing ON your toes, because our only chance for survival is to get bigger, hairier, smellier, and nastier. If humans are gonna respect something, first they gotta learn to fear it.

Moose are disappearing and the bears are bulking up to get ready for a confrontation around our homes and yours. Come December, we’re going to skip the hibernating and launch our own series of protests – Occupy Tool Shed, Occupy Bird Feeder, Occupy Camp Ground, Occupy That Paranoid Place Inside Your Head That Never Ever Sleeps.

There’s a bear in the woods. And he’s HUGE!

Your pal,
Bart

I thanked Bart for giving me a good chill in the lead-up to Halloween. But I don’t think we’re really headed for a showdown with the bears, do you?

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Classy Warfare

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My favorite off-the-map Member of Congress, Loomis Beechly, is apparently dipping his toe in the presidential pool. Which only makes sense, since he represents all of Minnesota’s water surface area. He sent out this provocative e-mail late last night:

Greetings to all my 9th district constituents, and congratulations on once again making it to that time of year when all the visitors go home and we have the beautiful waters of Minnesota to ourselves!

It is encouraging to see the success that one member of my state’s congressional delegation, Michele Bachmann, is having on the national political stage. True, a lot of the pundits are saying she’s a bit careless with the facts and the scuttlebutt is that her campaign is on the decline, but the truth of the matter is this: they’re still talking about her! As long as you’ve got that, you’ve got a chance.

But the main thing you have to do when you’re running for the top office is show people you have serious, common-sense, popular ideas for fixing all the things that are wrong with our country! Bachmann is great on presence and passion, but she’s lacking a plan.

Congressman Beechly reaches out to floaters in his district

I don’t have her fiery attitude and camera-ready hair, but I do have a great strategy to get us past the horrible, agonizing “tax the rich” vs. “no new taxes” show down we went through in Minnesota this past summer and are about to re-live on a national, (some would say nuclear) scale.

My idea?

Tax happy people.

That’s it. That’s my whole plan.

Happy people should pay through the nose to get us out of this mess. This works much better than “tax the rich” because wealthy people fight back and they have the means to win every time. Happy people, by contrast, come from all points along the economic spectrum and while some of them might have the resources to mount a counter-attack against a new tax burden, why would they waste their time? Clearly they’ve got something special going on in their lives – something that makes them happy. Better to concentrate on that than to ruin your day by thinking about stuff the government is doing!

Some will say this idea doesn’t have a chance because Tea Party Republicans will oppose any tax of any kind on anyone. Possibly. But what I see developing is an endless confrontation where the two sides try to shift most of our financial burden onto the strongest supporters of the other side. Democrats want the bill to be picked up by well-to-do Republican donors. Republicans want loyal Democrats in organized labor and education to shoulder the burden. Tea Party Republicans? I don’t know what they want, but I’m pretty sure that none of them are happy. So if they could be convinced to support any form of new revenue, the “Happy Tax” has the best chance with them.

Who are the happy? I think we all know. And really, let’s face it. Nobody who is paying attention to the state of the world today cares very much for happy people. Their buoyant spirits just make us angry, so let’s tax them to the hilt! Chances are, they’ll keep on smiling.

I’m not saying this great idea qualifies me to be president. But you may say it if you wish, even though it most definitely will not make me happy.

Sincerely,

Loomis Beechly
Your Congressman

Great plan, but how could we measure taxable happiness?

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Hypothetical Q. Blitzerman Speaks!

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From the Tea Party Debate:

Wolf Blitzer >> You’re a physician, ron paul, you’re a doctor. You know something about this subject. Let me ask you this hypothetical question. A healthy 30-year-old young man has a good job, makes a good living, but decides I’m not going to spend 200 or $300 a month because I’m healthy, i don’t need it. But something terrible happens, all of a sudden he needs it. Who will pay if he goes into a coma, who pays for that?

Ron Paul >> In a society that you accept welfarism and socialism, he expects the government to take care of him.

Blitzer >> What do you want?

Paul >> What he should do is whatever he wants to do and assume responsibility for himself. My advice to him would have a major policy.

Blitzer >> He doesn’t have that and he needs intensive care for six months. Who pays?

Paul >> That’s what freedom is all about, taking your own risks. This whole idea that you have to prepare and take care of everybody —

Audience >> [applause]

Blitzer >> but congressman, are you saying that society should just let him die?

Audience >> [shouts of “yeah!”]

Weird exchange to be having in this day and age, but it does get right to the heart of the health care and spending question, doesn’t it! And then comes this clearly false message, lofted through the digital transom the same way that Nigerian Prince keeps asking me for money!

Hi, friend. Yeah, it’s me! I’m the guy Wolf Blitzer was talking about Monday night at that Tea Party debate. You know, the 30-year-old man who was feeling so good that he decided to skip buying health insurance, and then wound up in a coma? Pleased to meet you!

People are making a big deal out of the fact that Ron Paul would let me suffer the consequences of my inaction. And they’re making an even bigger deal out of the way that Tea Party crowd cheered for the idea that the Congressman would let me die. They’re being called heartless killers and a bloodthirsty band of modern Marie Antoinettes, except instead of “let them eat cake”, the motto is “let them stop eating totally, choke on their poor choices and decrease the surplus population,” which I’m pretty sure is something Dickens said, or one of his characters. I don’t actually remember. I had a pretty short life and didn’t have time to learn much. But enough about me – I’m just a rhetorical device.

There’s lots of hand-wringing over this episode, mostly from people who fear that we as a society have come to a very cold, brutal place where it is better to let people die than to think about an increase in government spending. But no one has asked me what I think! And I’m the one who’s going to be allowed to expire, right? And frankly, though this may surprise you, I think I deserve it. That’s right. It’s all my fault. I lived an uncharmed life. I made a bunch of mistakes. So let me die, already!

Before you start protesting, I have to tell you that my string of fatal errors began long before I decided to save a few bucks on health insurance. The first thing I did wrong was this – I allowed myself to be born without a name.

That’s right. I let God (in this case, Wolf Blitzer) create me as a fully-grown adult, destined to live only as long as it took for him to ask his question. I had no identity, no parents to speak of, no siblings, no spouse or domestic partner and no children. All I had was a good job, robust health, a cheapskate attitude, and eventually, a coma. That’s everything there ever was for me. No obligations. No connections. No one loved me and I made a bad, selfish decision. Who wouldn’t want to kill off a guy like that?

Regrets? I wish I’d insisted on a name. Even something as weird as “Hypothetical Q. Blitzerman” would have been good enough to bring a few of those Tea Party people over to my side. My folks might have named me “Hypothetical” because of the fruitless years they spent trying to conceive me. I’ll bet they couldn’t believe their luck when I finally arrived. I’m guessing I had siblings too. A spunky little sister, Antithetical (Ann) and an egghead baby brother, Theoretical (Theo).

I’d like to think I did OK in school, made lots of friends, played back up wide receiver on the football team, sang a song (badly) in the school musical, fell in the fountain at prom and ruined my rented tuxedo.

Before I got my good job I’ll bet I worked some truly lousy ones and probably served you a hamburger along the way. There was a time when a fishing pole and a sleeping bag were the only possessions I cared anything about. Until I met this girl who wasn’t impressed with my aimless life. So I finished school, got married, got that job and got her pregnant, all in a few, short, crazy, wonderful years. Of course I felt invincible, so when we made up the family budget we put hundreds into health care for her, and I used my health money to save for a house, instead. Calculated risk.

Did I mention I was never very good at gambling?

Anyway, things went wrong and who do I have to blame but myself? Yeah, Wolf Blitzer brought me into the world but I made all the critical mistakes. I should have insisted that my “good” job have health care attached. How else can you call it “good”? And I should have demanded that he give me a name, some friends, and a few relations.

I’ll bet if Wolf had put my brother Theo in league with the Libertarians or made my sister Ann a leading light in the Tea Party movement, they would have at least paused for a moment before shouting out their enthusiastic support for my needless, premature death.

Like I say, it was totally my fault.

If Wolf Blitzer and Ron Paul were about to bite into Turkey Burgers tainted with Salmonella, could the government regulation-forced recall come quickly enough to save them? Should it?

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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Dear Dr. Babooner,

Yesterday my mom told me she was taking me out for ice cream.

I got kind of excited about that but instead of going to Jake’s we wound up at some thing in a parking lot where all these geeky people were standing around talking and waiting in line to meet this one guy who looked like he just walked out of a magazine picture.

Somebody said he’s the Governor of Texas and I thought ‘What’s he doing here in New Hampshire?’ I know from school that Texas is a pretty big state, so you’d think whoever was Governor of it would have to be watching it pretty much all the time or he’d miss something.

Anyway, my mom told me we were going to wait in line and meet this guy no matter how long it took, and I said, ‘What about my ice cream?’

And she said I would get my ice cream after I talked to him and asked him how old the Earth is.

Beats me why she wanted me to ask the Governor of Texas how old the Earth is. What I learned in school is that people from Texas don’t care about much that isn’t all about Texas, and last time I heard, most of the Earth wasn’t, so why would HE know how old it is?

I don’t really care how old the Earth is either. But I do care about ice cream, so I said I would do it if it meant I could have a waffle cone.

And then she said if I asked about Evolution I could have a slice of cake also! Man! What sweet deal!
Or so I thought! But you’ll see in the video that I didn’t even get to ask that question.

With mom feeding questions into my ear like that, it got to be real hard to concentrate on what was going on around me. I got confused and didn’t even ask him why he didn’t believe in science like mom told me to. And then she said we weren’t going for ice cream ’cause I hadn’t earned it!

Dr. Babooner, is it fair to get punished like that for not asking questions that weren’t even your questions to begin with? I hear all those big TV anchors have something in their ear where somebody is always talking to them, and if this is what it’s like, I guess I don’t want to be Brian Williams or Wolf Blitzer anymore. It’s just too tough to concentrate! If I had been allowed to ask what I wanted, I would have asked to see a horse, or if he didn’t have one of those, a gun, because I hear that everybody from Texas carries one.

But instead I got all this whispering and arm squeezing, a real snootful of the Governor of Texas and his after shave, and no ice cream and no cake. Not even a candy bar or a bag of Peanut M & M’s. And definitely no horse.

Should I have done something differently? I feel cheated!

Respectfully,
Mom’s Mouthpiece

I told Mom’s Mouth that he had every right to feel cheated. His mom went back on her word because if I read the story properly, there were no conditions applied to the initial idea of going out for ice cream.
To add qualifying events as a trigger for the ice cream AFTER the arrangement has been proposed and agreed to is unethical, and your Mom should be told to stop manipulating you that way.

Next time your mom offers to take you out for a special dessert, get it in writing first, and be sure to read the fine print in case there are any weird conditions or expectations.

After all, learning from previous mistakes is what evolution is all about!

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

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Pleased to Meet You

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Now that the Iowa’s over promoted Straw Poll has ended, there are truckloads of national political horserace reporters available for temporary re-assignment. Perhaps that’s why President Obama met the hoard more than halfway, starting his Midwest tour at a point conveniently between Ames and the Minneapolis airport.

While the approval rating handicappers and political spinners tried to deduce the nation’s mood from the interaction between the chief executive and 500 or so Cannon Fallsters, ordinary people can be forgiven for their genuine excitement at seeing the President of the United States (POTUS), whether they support his policies or not.

Ben Rutter, a 19-year-old college student from Cannon Falls, told the Worthington Daily Globe that getting to shake the president’s hand is a “once-in-a-lifetime” experience.

“It’s pretty awesome to see him in your hometown,” he said. “Especially your small hometown.”

Everyone should be excited to see the president – any president. Ultimately, all men and women are surprisingly ordinary – even the famous ones. That’s what makes us all so lovable. But the title and all the responsibility that comes with being POTUS – now that’s something special.

I stood on a street corner in Minneapolis to get a glimpse of George W. Bush a few years ago, and I thought I saw a hand wave behind smoked glass as his motorcade sped by. Not much to go on – but I still remember it. I doubt that he remembers me. I can only guess that from behind your Secret Service escort, every collection of tired-looking middle aged bald guys begins to blur with the scenery.

But even Michele Bachmann couldn’t hide her excitement at greeting W. Remember this famous moment from her first few weeks in Washington in 2007?

Well of course you’d be delighted. There have only been 44 U.S. Presidents, so why not grab one as he goes by and see how long you can stay connected? Though maybe it wasn’t the man Michele found so invigorating. She might have been trying, even then, to hang on to the office.

You are a touring (campaigning!) President of the United States, and someone has just handed you their baby. What do you do?

Poems

Doom, Despair, Disappointment

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So it looks like the government shutdown / standoff / slapdown is over – for now. Each year our leaders seem to find a way to assure us that we will have another horrible confrontation two years down the road. Start stockpiling. 2014 is coming!

I was struck by the tone that was set in the afternoon press conference announcing the agreement – universal dissatisfaction.

Finally, Minnesota’s poltical warlords can emerge from their bunkers to agree on something – everyone thinks the settlement, the handiwork for which they sacrificed thousands of disagreeable hours, is universally appalling.

Which is a situation that just begs for an insipid little poem.

We closed down parks across the state
to strike a deal we all can hate.

We braced ourselves and wouldn’t move
for terms of which we don’t approve.

Stopped paying daycare costs for tykes
to get a budget no one likes.

Refused to let the horses race
to set the stage for this disgrace.

Let all the aid to towns subside
to force this pact we can’t abide

We didn’t budge. We pitched our tent
to make this legal excrement.

And did I mention anywhere
we’ll vote for what we cannot bear?

We hate the outcome. Hate it bad.
But that’s the only choice we had!

Can you recall a story with a more disappointing ending?

Poems

Budget Deadlock Haiku

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So much has already been said about a possible Minnesota government shutdown tomorrow, I hesitate to add even a single word to the flood of opinion. The Commentary River is well over its banks and some good people may lose their homes while familiar words swirl around them.

Maybe we need to impose strict verbal austerity measures.

Use your talking points.
Three lines, five, seven and five.
No new syllables!

Gold Horses look down
No one can clean their stable.
Mountains of manure!

My closed state park is
Beautiful without me there
Or so I suppose.

Government is the
problem that cannot be solved
with just a hammer.

Here’s a compromise.
You can adopt my viewpoint
Any time you like.

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Locked in a Room

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As the state’s budget showdown drags towards a shutdown on July 1st, settlement strategies come and go. The latest is the leader lockdown – Governor Dayton, House Speaker Kurt Zellers and Senate Majority Leader Amy Koch will engage in some marathon sessions Friday and Saturday to try to shape an agreement.

According to a report by Tim Pugmire of MPR:

Zellers said they will lock themselves in a room and won’t leave until they have at least some consensus or a framework that they can then take back to their legislative members and the governor can be comfortable with.

“But the point being that without the three of us in a room talking about these bills in great detail and coming to agreement between the three of us, it’s going to be awfully difficult for all of us to come to agreement,” Zellers said.

This is necessary at the very least so all parties will be able to say “we really tried” while pointing fingers after July 1.

But one wonders how “in” they will be “locked”?

Perhaps they could follow the model of the Mars 500 mission. But the experience so far seems to bring this warning: Those who are locked in a room begin to get used to being locked in a room.

It has now been more than one year since six men were shut inside a space ship-like enclosure in a Moscow suburb, agreeing to mimic conditions on a trip to Mars and back. They have endured mock emergencies including a loss of power and a week without communications with the outside world. They have simulated a Mars landing and walkabout, and are now on their way “back”, with a planned arrival “home” in early November.

Matching Goggles Can Help Build Camaraderie

They have their routines, which they follow every day without fail (weekends included). One Marstronaut said his greatest regret is that he misses “the randomness of the world”. So far it seems the greatest threat to the well-being of these men is the dreaded fun-sucking monster, monotony.

One of the mission co-ordinators said “one thing that they’re using to break the monotony … is creativity. For Halloween they dressed themselves up with scientific equipment. For Christmas they came up with their own self-made nativity scene. And they also celebrated the Chinese New Year.”

Perhaps Minnesota’s combatants could resolve to stay in the Governor’s reception room until a settlement occurs, and if they’re still in there on the Fourth of July, they could break the monotony of their own immobility and form a bond by improvising an appropriate holiday celebration with the materials at hand.

Better make sure nobody has matches when they go in.

How do you handle a deadline?