It’s not my job to get my guy elected president. It’s his job to get himself elected president. As much as I like my guy, I’m not on his payroll.
Every time I see something on TV that I think is unfair to my guy, it’s not my job to scream at the TV. My guy has tons of media advisers who are paid well to do that. Every time I see a story in the newspaper about my guy that I think is unfair, it is not my job to write letters to the editor telling him what a low-life, bottom-feeding, amoral, unqualified, lying, empty suit he is. It’s the job of my guy’s guys to do that.
My guy pays scads of professional, experienced political campaigners to do nothing all day but tune my guy’s message into a model of common sense and wisdom, while at the same time exposing the other guy’s lies, distortions and complete lack of character.
It’s not my job to post angry messages on the newspaper’s website every time I think it has gotten something wrong. Besides, every time I do that, one of the other guy’s guys replies to my post by saying something worse about my guy than what was said in the original story. After exchanging angrier and angrier posts for a few hours, not only has no one’s mind been changed, but I discover that the only people reading the debate are the two participants. Ten people, tops, are reading these sizzling, articulate and factually accurate posts. It has all been an incredible waste of time, especially when my guy’s guys will appear on all the Sunday morning talk shows, where they will reach an audience five or 10 times the size of our little debate. My guy’s guys will set the record straight, while the other guy’s guys will lie and pettifog and try to pull the wool over the eyes of unsuspecting voters. That is what they are paid well to do.
It seems there is little unemployment in the pettifogging business. It is a virtual boom town. Everyone living there has a high-paying job — the reporters, the candidates, the campaign managers, the media spokespeople, the handlers, the schedulers, the security guys, the radio and TV talk-show hosts, the political advertising people, the pundits and the guys who make the buttons, lawn signs and bumper stickers. And what do they get for all that money?
Imagine trying to talk a Yankees fan into becoming a Red Sox fan, or a Bears fan into becoming a Packers fan, or any hockey team’s fan into becoming another hockey team’s fan. It’s not going to happen. My guy would have to, figuratively, move from Brooklyn to L.A. before his fans would desert him. Other than that, my guy is getting my vote.
All my friends are voting for my guy. We wonder what is wrong with the people who are voting for the other guy. Are they stupid? It occurs to me that the other guy’s guys must be having the same conversation: Why would anyone vote for my guy? Are they stupid? So, if they think I’m stupid and I think they’re stupid, it’s easy to see why we’re never going to get off on the right foot.
No wonder my guy and the other guy can’t work together. When I say something about the other guy, all his guys hear is, “You must think I’m stupid.” I know, because when they say something about my guy, that’s all I hear.
Sometimes when I see one of my guy’s guys on TV, I think, “I could have done a better job than that.” It’s not really a good sign. After all, my guy hired this guy. What does it say about him? Has the other guy hired better guys? Has my guy moved his team to LA?