The Squawk election issue is out, and on the front page there is a composite cartoon of all the candidates as Super Mario creatures, which I haven't had time to scan, but I appear in it as this:
See? Princess Toadstool. On the one hand it's cool because I always picked Princess Toadstool in... whatever antediluvian version of Super Mario allowed you to pick Princess Toadstool as your character. It was still on NES. That's how old I am. (I'm the same age as Bagehot, actually. I thought we could get coffee together, but I like Schumpeter better.) Also, the cartoonist totally captured the enduring disaster that is my bangs. Because I just refuse to pay somebody to cut my bangs.
More importantly, it's cool because I'm standing aside from the fighting with a magic wand and SIX power stars. Nobody else got any power stars. And that's pretty much how I've managed my campaign, more or less. I'm not here to get personal, I just bring you the awesome magical power of socialism. Short of putting a sickle in my left hand, it couldn't get much more apt.
Meanwhile, inside the Squawk, I and five other candidates had print ads. Mine has a photo of me and my dog (who has way more face recognition than me and is a proven winner) and some actual sentences. All this time I've been looking at everybody's signs, ads and flyers that inevitably consist of three more or less coherent words (except the two candidates who chose to write lengthy personal histories - seriously peeps: it's NOT about you!). Thanks to Squawk's editors, these ads at least had three words each of the same type, not a mix of nouns and adjectives like some of the lawn signs. Yes, candidates, I am judging you on your ability to tell a noun from an adjective. I'm nice like that. But to give the reader an idea, the choices include "visionary, energetic, committed"; "honest, practical, approachable" and "strong leader, proven results". Some people made little poems: "committed to community, dedicated to progress". One could even be called a slogan: "your common sense choice for a better community". (I'd have hyphenated "common-sense". I'm judging you on your hyphens, too.)
Mine, in contrast, has actual verbs in it. It says: "I'm a socialist, meaning I believe in social justice and workers' rights. I believe we need to create a realistic industrial economy rather than a pass-through for GNWT money. We need to export something to fund our imports, and improve social conditions and cohesion as a community."
See? Verbs! That's why I couldn't think of what to do, in a nutshell. I didn't think the three-word approach was useful, nor that voters would read full sentences. And that's why I ended up advertising in Squawk. Because their readers are much more likely to read full sentences than The Hub's. (I don't even read full sentences in The Hub, I just skim them. They take way too long to say so little.) In fact, I'm betting that those voters who care about ideas mostly read Squawk, whereas those who don't mostly do not read Squawk. I could be wrong.
So there you have it. Elect Princess Toadstool, get power of six stars. Booya!
See? Princess Toadstool. On the one hand it's cool because I always picked Princess Toadstool in... whatever antediluvian version of Super Mario allowed you to pick Princess Toadstool as your character. It was still on NES. That's how old I am. (I'm the same age as Bagehot, actually. I thought we could get coffee together, but I like Schumpeter better.) Also, the cartoonist totally captured the enduring disaster that is my bangs. Because I just refuse to pay somebody to cut my bangs.
More importantly, it's cool because I'm standing aside from the fighting with a magic wand and SIX power stars. Nobody else got any power stars. And that's pretty much how I've managed my campaign, more or less. I'm not here to get personal, I just bring you the awesome magical power of socialism. Short of putting a sickle in my left hand, it couldn't get much more apt.
Meanwhile, inside the Squawk, I and five other candidates had print ads. Mine has a photo of me and my dog (who has way more face recognition than me and is a proven winner) and some actual sentences. All this time I've been looking at everybody's signs, ads and flyers that inevitably consist of three more or less coherent words (except the two candidates who chose to write lengthy personal histories - seriously peeps: it's NOT about you!). Thanks to Squawk's editors, these ads at least had three words each of the same type, not a mix of nouns and adjectives like some of the lawn signs. Yes, candidates, I am judging you on your ability to tell a noun from an adjective. I'm nice like that. But to give the reader an idea, the choices include "visionary, energetic, committed"; "honest, practical, approachable" and "strong leader, proven results". Some people made little poems: "committed to community, dedicated to progress". One could even be called a slogan: "your common sense choice for a better community". (I'd have hyphenated "common-sense". I'm judging you on your hyphens, too.)
Mine, in contrast, has actual verbs in it. It says: "I'm a socialist, meaning I believe in social justice and workers' rights. I believe we need to create a realistic industrial economy rather than a pass-through for GNWT money. We need to export something to fund our imports, and improve social conditions and cohesion as a community."
See? Verbs! That's why I couldn't think of what to do, in a nutshell. I didn't think the three-word approach was useful, nor that voters would read full sentences. And that's why I ended up advertising in Squawk. Because their readers are much more likely to read full sentences than The Hub's. (I don't even read full sentences in The Hub, I just skim them. They take way too long to say so little.) In fact, I'm betting that those voters who care about ideas mostly read Squawk, whereas those who don't mostly do not read Squawk. I could be wrong.
So there you have it. Elect Princess Toadstool, get power of six stars. Booya!
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