In the course of researching that last post, I came across the following column from a young writer for the Cleveland Plain Dealer, see if you can guess who it is:
Good news: It's over. No more ads accusing Rep. Dedmeit of supporting the Gingrich-Hitler plan to grind Granny's bones into flour. No more radio campaigns accusing Sen. Pinquo of voting in favor of a nickel tax on penny candy.
Bad news: The mid-terms are coming up soon. As we speak, consultants are drawing up ads to attack politicians for votes they have not yet cast on bills no one has yet thought to write. What lessons from the last campaign will be evident in the next?
One: Invent a catchy demographic category. This year saw the birth of the hitherto undiscovered slice of the electorate known as Soccer Moms - beleaguered, tot-shuttling women who are too busy to have an informed opinion. They lean toward Clinton, perhaps because they hope one of those bridges he builds goes to Madison County.
Next time, we'll need a fresh category. Lacrosse Aunts or Bingo Grandpas. Or perhaps Bowling Uncles. Start with a headline: "Bowling Uncles see incumbents as a 4-10 split, don't know if they should aim ball left or right." Say it enough times, and commentators will be unable to bring up Bosnian policy without wondering how it will sit with the crucial Bowling Uncles.
Whatever group is next in line, it should be chosen for its ability to sit through four years of a presidential tenure and have no opinion on the matter whatsoever.
Two: Tailor your conventions for the intelligentsia. The political conventions this year were widely panned for being scripted, polished shows. As opposed to the anarchic, freewheeling, anything-can-happen spirit of, say, a Peter Jennings newscast.
The parties' sin, of course, was attempting to get people to watch. They did the math. Oprah: big ratings. Masterpiece Theater production of Walt Whitman's "I Hear the Paint Drying:" no ratings. Verdict: go Oprah.
Any grab for the common man's interest always provokes eye-rolling and gagging sounds from the rarefied overclass. The only way to satisfy the commentators and the groundlings is to stage it all like "Pulp Fiction": windy passages of tiresome, pretentious dialogue punctuated by extreme violence. Critics will love the hip verbiage; audiences will love the fancy gunplay. If Dole had worn sunglasses, waved a pistol and announced that "Bob Dole is gonna get medieval on Bill Clinton's butt" he would have had a 20-point lead.
Three: Pick an easy metaphor then beat it to death. Every Bill Clinton speech concluded with a reference to building a bridge to the future, a rosy place where everyone is happy and all the statutes of limitations on various Arkansas matters have expired.
The mention of The Bridge was the cue that the speech was over. Forget that stuff about it not being over until the fat lady sings; it ain't over 'til the Big Bubba Builds the Bridge. Suggestion for next election: more metaphors.
Four: Refrain from pointing out opponent's vulnerabilities. It's clear that attacking a candidate on events that have transpired during his term is now seen as a personal attack. And no insulting attack ever fed a hungry child, cured a sick person, built a bridge, put the 'boss' in the bossa nova, etc.
If this is the case, then sin boldly. Don't fire the travel office staff: Build a bonfire on the front lawn of the White House, and burn them at the stake. If your opponent complains, call it an insult, and point out that no insult ever changed a light bulb or balanced a checkbook. People will nod: He's right about that. Hell, the lightbulb went out when I was balancing the checkbook. He understands my life! And who's this guy who's insulting him?
That's the playbook for the next election season. Which, incidentally, began last Wednesday. Sick of it yet?
Yes, that's Lileks, James Lileks.