With graduation on the not-too-distant horizon (think the far end of the bathtub, not Lake Michigan), I’ve realized I haven’t accomplished a lot of the things I set out to do. I haven’t yet discovered a new species of fish and named it the Hard Knock so it would sound bad ass in a group. I haven’t tried KFC’s new Double Down fried chicken sandwich, which I really want before I die (a.k.a. 10 minutes after eating it). And I never achieved my dream of being elected to some sort of public office. This last one, though, is still attainable because I know how to exploit the most powerful force in contemporary politics: the sympathy vote.
Sympathy is the only reason anyone votes for anything. How else do you explain Dennis Kucinich having a career, some girl with a lazy eye always getting runner-up in beauty pageants or anybody watching “American Idol?” I don’t want to use this power to make a mockery of an elected position. I’ll just run for something inconsequential like court jester and ride a wave of pity all the way to the probably rectangular office. It’s a fool-proof victory guarantee. Even if I don’t win this time, the sympathy I get from losing will give me a huge advantage in the next election. And I know exactly how I’m going to pull this commiseration campaign off.
Step 1: I need a disability. Actors looking for Oscar love have been on to this one for years, but politicians have also been known to play the cripple card when poll numbers are low. FDR rolled around in a two-wheel sympathy mobile for most of his presidency, and you know George W’s Hooked On Phonics deficiency was just a ploy to get some serious “Awww” action. I haven’t decided what my disability will be yet, but I have a pretty significant handicap in golf, so I’ll probably play that up.
Step 2: I need an assassination attempt. Everyone feels for someone who just got shot at. It’s human nature, like smiling at cute babies or still smiling at ugly babies. If during a campaign speech, I had to dodge a speeding bullet, flaming arrow or poisonous snake, the voters would not only feel sorry for my near brush with death, they would assume I stood for something really important. They wouldn’t even remember my speech was on renaming BK: “Where Else Are You Gonna Go At This Hour?”
Step 3: I need to give back. Being charitable is a gold mine of positive attention, not because it shows you’re a valuable community member, but because people feel bad you’re spending your time and money having less fun than they are. That’s why I’ve decided to get my philanthropy on and donate a wing to a building in Evanston. I was thinking of a boneless spicy Cajun flavor for Buff Joes, but we can work out the specifics on that later.
Let me be clear: This is not cynicism. The fact that the sympathy vote exists actually bodes well for humanity. It means we’re good people and we care about each other. It means we give two hoots. If you don’t see it that way, then I honestly feel sorry for you. So if you ever decide to run for something, I guess that means you’ve got my vote.
Weinberg senior David Moss can be reached at [email protected]
