Well, another year of avoiding Sproul Plaza and practicing the “don’t fuck with me I’ve got shit to do” stare of death has ended, and since psychologists have proven that reviewing while material is fresh in your mind is the best way to remember it, I think it’s necessary to recap the election season so that future candidates aren’t doomed to repeat the mistakes of past elections.
- Always have at least one person proofread your slogan. This can help you avoid the embarrassment of carrying a sign that says your name, followed by the phrase “We deserve better,” a faux pas committed by the BECS/Unite/Student Action party. While it may be the case that the student body does deserve better than your sorry ass, it’s probably a good idea to avoid telling them that up front.
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Consult at least one person versed in the history of your campus before deciding on a color of construction paper. Even a Bowlesman in his typical drunken stupor could tell you that green, particularly a nasty shade of green reminiscent of pre-digested Swiss chard, is not one of Cal’s school colors. I thought it was pretty simple: blue and gold. The gold part is negotiable to include yellow. Since yellow is not equal to green, and blue is not equal to green, Cal-SERVE is not equal to people capable of doing anything for this campus but forcing a bad color scheme on the renovation of Heller Lounge.
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WRITING CAMPAIGN MESSAGES IN ALL CAPS MAY ANNOY SOME READERS OF YOUR CAMPAIGN LITERATURE. IT MAY ALSO MAKE SEVERAL PEOPLE WANT TO THROW RUNNING CHAINSAWS AT YOUR APPENDAGES. WHAT IS YOUR VISION OF YOUR OWN HORRIBLE DEATH?
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Make sure your platform contains more than one 2×4. A single issue does not a political party make. This is especially true when the issue is the political equivalent of Lenny Kravitz’s “Fly” – overplayed like the little girl in second grade who would play doctor for a cookie and a sip from your juice box. The Defend Affirmative Action Party, as their name implied, had only one plank in their platform. Overlooking, for a moment, that defending affirmative action is about as useful as defending the corpse of President Ulysses S. Grant, you have to wonder what an elected DAAP Senator would have to say about…well, anything else at all. Housing? Give the apartments to the people who can’t quite afford to pay the monthly rent. Campus security? Subsidize the robbers, since if they’re robbing and mugging, their conditions at home must be so desperate that they have no choice but to rob and mug.
And frankly, if I had a connection to BAMN, and I were trying to run for an office where people were supposed to like me, I’d hide the connection faster than my homosexual affair with Ryan Tate. Not that I had one. An affair I mean. Hey, look over there…
- If your name is Minh Duong, just go home. I see that you’re an independent, and that you’re giving it the old college try. I can respect that. E for effort, my friend. But Mr. Duong, I see your situation like this: a man walks into a casino, plunks down $500 at the roulette table, and says, “Give me double zero.” This man knows that his odds are slim, but if he beats these odds, he stands to reap a big reward. The wheel spins, the man’s heart races, the ball clatters around…and comes to a stop in 13 Red. He sighs, shrugs his shoulders, and goes off to eat his body weight in waffles at the complementary buffet.
I can respect this man. He gave it a shot. But that man is not Minh Duong.
Minh Duong watches the ball land in 13 Red, but then sells his watch, his shoes, his shirt, and finally his dignity to plunk down another $500 just so he can watch the ball miss his number again. But what really pisses me off, Minh Duong, about your campaign, and about your roulette misadventures, is that you had to drag clip art into the mix. The minute you browsed through your Office 97Clipart directory and selected those shaking hands and said, “Ooh, neat, collaboration…students like collaboration!”, you signed a pact with Satan. So now you stand defeated, like a Republican George McGovern, so full of hope until the votes were counted, the Big Game Axe fell, and you were left with no soul, no dignity, no shoes, no shirt, and, sadly, no service.
In spite of it all, I still managed to vote Squelch! because they slaughtered Molly Hooper’s chances of ever garnering an elected position again.
