The Unbearable Indignities of Campaigning

It has come to my attention that the Big Three presidential candidates made videotaped appearances on the April 21 World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) RAW broadcast on the eve of the Pennsylvania primary. I didn’t personally witness this, because I’m one of the 14.5 remaining Americans who don’t have cable TV, but a friend told me about it. I am shocked at horrified that candidates seeking to be the next president of the United States of America—still the most powerful office in the world—would stoop to such lowbrow and classless shenanigans. I mean, really! Plus I’m furious that I wasn’t invited to participate, although I take some consolation in knowing my archenemy Ralph Nader wasn’t either.

Apparently the Big Three are fretting over who can win over the beer-swilling, mentally challenged, mullet-haired demographic. Judging from the results of the last two presidential elections, these people are legion.

I watched the Three Stooges’ WWE appearances on “The Daily Show’s” Web site. Here’s a transcript:

Hillary Clinton: I’m Hillary Clinton, but tonight, in honor of the WWE, you can call me Hill-Rod.

Barack Obama: I’ve got one question: do you smell what Barack is cookin’?

John McCain: Whatcha gonna do when John McCain and all his McCainiacs run wild on ya?

Someone get me an barf bag.

Is nothing sacred anymore? Can't any candidate running for national public office maintain a modicum of dignity? How low will these people go to pander for votes?

In fairness, it’s not wholly the candidates’ fault. It’s also the media’s fault—and ours, for passively consuming this stuff. One could argue that the loss of presidential dignity began with Lyndon Baines Johnson, who had no qualms about showing off his appendectomy scar or hoisting his poor beagle into the air by its ears in front of the national press. But LBJ was a shrewd hick from Texas who inherited the presidency from a dead man and never actually campaigned for the office.

And speaking of hicks from Texas (and despite being born a Connecticut blue-blood, President Bush is the living definition of a Texas hick), the current White House occupant regularly behaves like a cast member from "Hee Haw" who got lost on his way to the fake cornfield. To cap off the presidential indignities, the same night the Three Stooges were making fools of themselves for wrestling fans, Dubya himself made a videotaped appearance on the TV game show “Deal or No Deal,” ostensibly to thank contestant and Army Capt. Joseph Kobes for his three tours of duty in Iraq, and to wish him luck with the game. As well-intentioned as this was, the pathetically unpopular president had this to say: “I’m thrilled to be with you on ‘Deal or No Deal’ tonight. Come to think of it, I’m thrilled to be anywhere with high ratings these days.” Oh, Dubya! You’re the Junior Samples of presidents.

But as usual, I digress.

Let’s look at when the media began to determine who sits in the most powerful chair in the world. Television became a major force in presidential campaigning in 1960 when the sweaty, stubble-jowled veteran pol Richard Nixon took on the less experienced but handsome and non-sweaty John F. Kennedy in a televised debate. Nixon appeared shifty, dishonest and nervous, as if he had a rabid weasel sitting near his genitals. Kennedy appeared cool, calm and suave, and projected the confidence that he could have an affair with Marilyn Monroe if he so desired. We all know how that contest ended.

Throughout the sixties, seventies and eighties, extremely uncool white men seeking to become president effectively used the existing media to verbally hammer each other into a bloody pulp, and to try to boost their own public image. There were backfires as well, as in the 1988 campaign when Democratic candidate Michael Dukakis’s campaign—excuse the pun—tanked. Dukakis, who had been accused by Republican opponent George H.W. Bush of basically being a wimp, donned an oversized army helmet and sat in an Abrams tank in a vain attempt to look commander-in-chief-like. Instead, he looked like a wimpy Greek midget who was unable to reach the gas pedal. You'll note that there is no President Dukakis in the history books.

The media-driven do-anything-to-become-president shtick kicked into high gear in 1992 with Bill Clinton’s campaign. Clinton’s saxophone-playing appearances on late night talk shows and willingness to describe his preferred type of underpants on MTV took presidential campaigning to a casual new level, and allowed him to use his charisma and ability to tell bald-faced lies to survive various scandals and win the White House. 

Instead of simply shaking hands and kissing babies, candidates now feel obliged to prove what ordinary guys and gals they are in front of TV cameras by picking up bowling balls instead of polo sticks, knocking back brewskis in neighborhood bars, and choking down Philly cheesesteaks when they’d rather be having a nice Kobe chateaubriand with an arugula salad. Modern campaigning has one thing in common with TV wrestling: it’s as phony as a million dollar bill.

And now we have candidates appearing on the aforementioned wrestling show. Perhaps, ala "The Daily Show," the logical next step is to have them actually wrestle each other to determine who’s the best candidate. My money would be on Hill-Rod, since she outweighs Obama by 40 pounds, and since your average 10-year-old could smack down the elderly McCain. Wouldn’t that be something to see?

I think I hear George Washington spinning in his grave.

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