Pass the Salt Steve

By Bill Zahren
(Posted 01/21/00)

On Jan. 19 I dreamed I had dinner with Steve Forbes, in my late grandmother’s house.

Not a shocking dream considering I live in Iowa. Normally a quiet, unassuming, alternately cold and humid state, every four years we turn into the Great Presidential Proving Ground. We have this nutty thing called a Presidential Caucus, a serpentine combination of party platform building and voting, and first in the presidential nominating process.

Our first-in-the-nation status is enough to get politicians doing laps around the state starting in July. With the Jan. 24 caucus night approaching, you can’t swing a dead cat around here without hitting someone running for president. I live in Des Moines, the state capital, and they’re all over us like ants. I wouldn’t be shocked if a went to the can and discovered Alan Keyes one stall over. “You know, Bill,” he’d yell over the stall, “we have to get this country back to moral values that made it great. You wouldn’t have any spare paper over there would you?”

At last count, the presidential hopefuls have held something like 322 debates in Iowa. Turn on the TV at night and there they all are. The Republican debates feature all 37 candidates in a tasteful arrangement. Sometimes behind podiums, sometimes in chairs, often a lot of presidential blue in the backdrop. Who besides me thinks they should form a pyramid after the debates with Gary Bauer on top? Come on, let’s rock and roll.

Debates have always been hugely overrated. While trying to enforce fairness, the format reduces complex, serious issues like abortion and export trade to ridiculously small responses. “You have 80 seconds, Sen. Hatch!” Wow. 80 whole seconds to talk about abortion! How generous. So everyone is reduced to variations of the same packaged spew over and over again. Pretty soon the reporters start trying to “liven things up” by asking stupid or, worse yet, leading questions. After debate number 205, you start hearing questions like, “Senator, what if your wife was hit by a train and you found out the driver was smoking marijuana to ease the guilt of his daughter having had an abortion after she couldn’t get a voucher to get into St. Mary’s Episcopal school? Would you then advocate gun control as strongly? You have 45 seconds.”

After a murmur runs through the crowd, the answer would be something like: “Gun control is just one issue facing our country. I’m more concerned about our depleted military (insert standard message on military spending).”

It’s nuts. After having watched 876 debates as a reporter and random citizen, here’s a quick guide to save the rest of you some trouble: the front runners will be the least spontaneous and courageous of the group for fear of screwing up. The second-place guy will ignore the rest of the group and poke the front-runner. Those who have no shot will say strange stuff and make strained attacks on the front runner, showing ersatz outrage and using many hand gestures. The crowd will be packed with partisans who would cheer for their guy even if he reared up on one cheek and cracked off an electronically amplified fart.

It’s gotten to the point where Steve Forbes has invaded my dreams. I’m not even a Forbes supporter. I’m not even a Republican. Why Steve Forbes and not Bradley, Gore, Bush or someone else, I have no idea. But there he was, sitting at my late Grandma Zahren’s table back in Lake Park, Iowa, with about seven or eight at us, sipping coffee and looking nervous and ill at ease. Then he started that karate-chop thing he does when he’s talking. He emphasizes words with a little, stiff-handed-karate-chop kind of motion in front of his navel. Can’t remember what he was talking about.

But I do remember that I thought he did a nice job. Thought he seemed like a nice guy. A bit stiff and nerdy, but sincere. Suddenly he was sitting there in my dreams in the kind of bib overalls my childhood neighbor, Carl Mumm, used to wear. Carl was a carpenter who always carried a cool folding wooden ruler and one of those wide, flat carpenters pencils. Even had on Carl’s kind of boots. Freaky.

Jan. 24 is The Big Night that Virtually Nobody Attends (the Caucuses, not to be confused with the Asian mountain range). I’d estimate state-wide caucus turnout at about 0.000091 percent of the voters. I’ve only gone to caucuses as a reporter, but I can report they’re tedious. I’d much, much rather just have a primary and go to vote. I’d turn out for that. But, caucus members also vote on party platform “planks,” apparently deluding themselves that the planks will influence what the eventual candidate runs on.

Sorry. It’s a nice thought, but the platform was decided long ago by the people running. If you’d like to know the platform for each person, I’d be glad to recite it word-for-word if you’d like. After 329 debates, I have it pretty down. I can even through in the Steve Forbes Karate Chop Action for you.

Sorry Steve. I’m kidding. Come on back for dessert sometime.

© 2000 Bill Zahren

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