Saturday, November 7, 2015

Travel, campaign, and promises, a love story.*

Traveling can be fun. Meeting new people, seeing new places. Work and responsibility left behind, pushed off on coworkers, and subordinates, who grow to despise you. They will have their turn, and you will be cursing them soon enough.

Clearly, travel has its own advantages.  Even a person who hates being cooped up in a car, and hates flying, me, for example, can find many good things about traveling. It isn't the actual traveling part though, that is a cross between dull, painful and terrifying.

What is amazing about this is the number of educated people who are willing to travel across this country trying to be nominated to run for president.  Being president would be an awful job. No matter what you do somebody will say terrible things, and these people are willing to travel for hours, cooped up in a bus, with people harping, and lecturing about how they have to act at the next brief stop just for the opportunity to try to become president.

Basically, you have to drive endlessly around the country for a year telling everybody how keenly intelligent you are, just to have the honor of driving around for another year telling everybody how smart they would be to elect you. Then you jump back in your little bus, and sell the same snake oil in a slightly different package to the next batch of locals. "Well, yes, sugar cane is vital to our national interest, and I will make sure growers and processors of sugar cane are amply rewarded."

"and all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity
like emptiness in harmony" I need someone to vote for me.

And people eat it up. Busloads of candidates, and spokespeople and advisers, driving into town, talking about how much they care, how hard they will battle for the town in question hopping off and on buses. Handsome strangers, dropping by, saying beautiful things. Then leaving, never seen after the election.

Maybe we just need the attention, maybe we will accept the love 'em and leave 'em because it makes us feel pretty. Maybe we are just not very smart. Either way, they are calling, and want to get together next week, are we busy?

Paid for by the Doctor Dawg Election Committee.

*Not really about commuting, or traveling, but it was supposed to expose the awful cost of a presidential campaign and the traveling circus it becomes, but the research was difficult, and will be covered in a future post, maybe.