My Dear Tobias,
You will be surprised, I know, receiving this letter so soon after my visit. You will sit in that tattered leather chair, wondering, has he so few friends? Does his list of Best and Brightest in Times of Need extend, beyond this name, not an iota? Without Tobias, does he trot about as did that famed Hans of the Star Wars epic—solo? Allay your fears, old chump, and extend the eager ear. I am writing you because a certain brain wave hit my cerebral cortex this morning, leaving my better pieces scattered amongst the sand and shells and seaweed blobs in various stages of decomposition.
I have decided to write you a political opinion.
I vowed this is something I would never do. Perhaps it was the urge to leave one’s friends’ opinions between their selves and the newspapers they choose to absorb with a morning brew. Perhaps it was the discovery that your politics extend to donning an Uncle Sam outfit for the parade on the annual 4th, and that a presidential candidate (or any candidate, for that matter) wins your vote by winning a coin toss on your library rug the day before ballots are due. Needless to say, my Finer Senses sat around moping and generally refusing sustenance when I discovered this case of carelessness in Tobias. What a scandal.
And then it hit me (the aforementioned brain wave, I mean). How perfect. You, caring not a wink about matters professing to be political in nature, are the ideal recipient of my political vents, the menacing verbal fist and raised eyebrow, if you will. It will be impossible to offend you, and later you may use the stationary to wrap Pongo’s lunch meats. In advance, I thank you.
Here, then, is my complaint: My impression was that I had graduated from high school decades ago, yet here I am, along with millions of other Americans, participating yet again this year in a ritual that has become, at best, another prom king selection and, at worst, a series of “Survivor” reruns. Only this time, the contest runs at the national level, and the prize is the Presidency of our United States. Four years in luxury apartments! Bring the family! Try your hand at ruling the world, and while you’re at it, meet the Queen of England! In short, the process for choosing the next Leader of the People has devolved into an extended, expensive, popularity contest. Consider this year’s top contenders.
On one side, we have a man who has achieved the status of international Rock Star, although many say this arises through no particular fault of his own, of course. On the other is a man whose chief claim to fame, other than surviving the Olympics and not being the Rock Star, is that he could probably purchase a few of the smaller states for summer homes, should he be so inclined. One is selling to movie stars high-end clothing, leather handbags, and doggie sweaters, all with self-promoting logos. The other is bopping around with other People Who Could Buy Several Small States If They Were So Inclined, everyone happily passing around wads of cash as if they were baseball trading cards. Neither candidate shows a fondness for taking too strong a stance on anything; both are at each other’s throat. Popularity is reflected in cash flow and is the focus of the campaigns, and important issues, such as a candidate’s character, are thrust out of sight. To those who would say, But the entire campaign is focused on candidates’ characters! Yes, it is—the other’s person’s character. Truly, the only action lacking nobility more than digging up old mud to smear on the name of one’s opponent is that of using other people’s money to fund what amounts to a personal feud. And we, the darling, volatile public, blithely sway one direction, and then another, playing the game of Let’s See Which One We Can Egg On the Furthest.
The tendency is to blame the candidates themselves, pushing the responsibility from our more worthy Selves onto scapegoat politicians who merely, let us be honest, have learned to work a system of our own design (or, perhaps, the result of our losing sight of the design and making it up as we go along). One must remember that the modern professional politician, like our more beloved amphibians, undergoes an impressive transformation over time, beginning life as the Immature Idealist and degenerating, eventually, into the Mastermind Manipulator. In the early days, leaders were chosen based on qualities such as integrity, wisdom, and understanding of the times, qualities which we now prefer to see on an application form than in practical implementation. The moment We the People chose to turn a blind eye to moral failings in our leaders was the moment we turned aside toward the popularity model for candidacy.
Was the freedom to depreciate morally, should we so choose, that for which our forefathers fought? The fact is that somewhere between the decline of “morality” as a socially-supported concept and the rise of “American Idol” and “Dancing with the Stars” we have developed into a nation with small children who select Famous Person over President as the hobby-of-choice for growing up. We do not want to have strong character; we want to win. We want to be popular, famous, and be friends with those who are. So, we go and buy a shirt and cast a vote to see whose star can keep from being eliminated on Election Day.
I would rattle on, but I just noticed the time, chappie, and must dash to don my own Uncle Sam hat, as I’m sure you are doing at this moment. Did I mention that I won the local “Most Dapper Uncle Sam” contest? I get to walk in the parade and have my picture taken with the mayor. You really ought to have seen my campaign buttons—gave me quite the step above the other fellows. I’ll send you one later.
Happy Independence Day, old man. Take it easy on the Jello-O.
Yours, &c.,
Joe Post
Joe Post 