Tortoise & hair-raising race in our faces
They’re off, like a herd of turtles.
The finish line is the District of Columbia’s Casablanca, which doesn’t become vacant for quite awhile. Actually, we’re talking La Casa Blanca here if you’re a stickler for accuracy.
The White House, as we anglos call it, may be the goal for these turtles come January of 2017, but that’s an anticlimax to a presidential election race ending in November of 2016. That’s when one of these “hard sell” hard shells called candidates will emerge from what amounts to turtle hell to join executibe governing limbo. But as candidates, tortoises all, they will stick their necks out and then withdraw them under said hard shells.
Jeb Exclamation Point (Jeb! for short) and HRC, or Her Hillaryous Highness, already announced and are well positioned, at least by virtue of multi-millions heading into their campaign coffers. Trumped by the Donald they won’t be, despite his largesse, but the rest of the herd of turtles, announced or heading there, won’t go quietly. As with the tale of the tortoise and the hare — the turtle and rabbit, if you prefer — the final outcome may surprise.
Given the high finance yet ho-hum nature of politics these days, however, it’s equally possible the ending won’t surprise a bit and the race will prove a major bore. Unless you’re a political junkie, you could snooze through these things but for the blare of advertising. Why? It’s mostly palaver.
“During an election campaign the air is full of speeches and vice versa,” said Henry Adams, who had a jaundiced eye toward politics despite his family pedigree or because of it, given his presidential progenitors.
By now, faithful reader, you may wonder what this small city political columnist is doing by remarking on the nation’s inane quadrennial insanity. You may also be inquire, legitimately, and why so early?
Neither the Jeb!ster nor the Hillaryous Clintonian jumping into the race — to say nothing of the many other wannabes — spawned this column. It actually was Carson City Transportation Manager Patrick Pittenger. He telephoned soon after Nevada’s Legislature quit work to talk to my reportorial side and tout a local vote by the citizenry on gasoline tax indexing that has been unleashed by legislators and the governor here.
Indexing, by the way, as a friend pointed out, means the tax will go up as the cost of road maintenance or building does, along with everything else. Everything else includes the cost of this upcoming presidential campaign.
When will that local gas tax indexing vote be on the ballot? Why, on the same general election day at which we choose another Bush to hide behind, or a Clinton playing verbal badminton, or some other flavor-of-the-year upstart to upset their apple carts and slip into 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., La aforementioned Casa Blanca.
In other words, forgive me, but it’s obvious that election season is with us if local bureaucrats seeking votes for taxes start even as presidential candidates come out of the woodwork. Local gas tax issues aside, though, let’s briefly talk about this herd of turtles. There must be some efficacious musings about Jeb!/HRC/TheDonald and all the other pressing prez wannabes now dolling up for the dance. Nada, you say? Oh, come on now.
How about: Turtle soup, anyone?!