This article originally appeared in the Chicago Tribune and the New York Daily News
Upon first view, I assumed the 60-second spot touting Arizona Democratic congressional hopeful David Brill was a fake.
I mean, recruiting SIX people to talk smack about Brill’s opponent, incumbent Republican congressman Paul Gosar, and then revealing those six are Gosar’s brothers and sisters? It reeked of something cooked up by Jimmy Kimmel’s staff or the satirical news site The Onion.
As the YouTube views and the “you gotta see this” tweets piled up, I, a trained journalist, refused to take the bait. Within 48 hours, I assured myself, the ruse would be revealed and I’d be smugly repeating the words of my cantankerous Northwestern University journalism professor Richard Hainey: “If your mother says she loves you, check it out!”
Then I checked it out. Gosar is an actual congressman. And yes, those were his siblings telling the Arizona voting populace their brother does not care about, among other issues, health care, Social Security, an insightful water policy and the needs of rural Arizonans. Not since the 1964 Lyndon Johnson “Daisy Girl” spot, designed to portray LBJ’s opponent, Barry Goldwater, as a trigger happy atomic warfare proponent, has a political ad contained such a shocking, “wait for it” twist.
Goldwater, ironically, was also from Arizona. Remind me never to run for political office in that state. Up until now, its residents seemed so nice, religiously defending their “it’s just a dry heat” lifestyle, as they guzzled a never-ending supply of bottled water while remaining indoors between May and September.
I’ve never aspired to run for public office, even something as innocuous as library commissioner or 5th District water reclamation official. But the Gosar attack ad made me realize that, if I ever throw my hat into any political ring, I will need to take a long look at my relatives. Well, first I’d have to make sure I never acted inappropriately with women at college parties. THEN I’d look at my relatives.
Following President Trump’s victory in 2016, I surveyed my Thanksgiving table and prayed nobody would begin a political discussion. Apart from my aunt, I was the only attendee who went for Hillary. My wife, sister, mother, brother-in-law and assorted other relatives all voted for The Donald.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZuayQFD51w
How could I run on a liberal Democratic platform when I’m dealing with the Gosar family in reverse?
Could I count on my mother not to say, “As a boy, Greg once tried to sell candy in a very well-to-do neighborhood and came home crying because not one resident made a purchase. That’s why I fear he’s going to raise taxes on the wealthy.”
In a battle for control of the TV one evening when we were kids, I vaguely remember elbowing my sister in the face. Despite a sincere apology and banishment to my room back then, could I trust her now to keep that story private? Or would she glumly look at the camera and say, “If you believe women should have an equal say in television programming, you’ll vote for Greg’s opponent.”
Several weeks ago, I inadvertently mixed up a bag of glass, cans and plastic bottles with a bag of non-reusable trash, resulting in the former being sent to a landfill as opposed to a recycling facility. Would my dear wife reveal to the Illinois voting population such callousness proves I don’t give a hoot about the environment? Furthermore, would she treat herself to an expensive haircut and facial before going on camera?
Congressman Gosar shrugged off his family’s mutiny, tweeting, “We all have crazy aunts and relatives etc and my family is no different. I hope they find peace in their hearts and let go all the hate.”
In a subsequent tweet, one which President Trump would certainly admire, he referred to his relatives as “leftists,” and “disgruntled Hillary supporters,” adding, “Stalin would be proud.”
So much for finding peace.
If I maintain my pledge to never appear on an election ballot, I have nothing to worry about. But if my aspirations change, and I suddenly decide to enter a 2018 race, I have one request to make of my relatives before they turn on me:
Please wait until after Thanksgiving. I was going to deep fry the turkey this year, and you don’t want to miss out.
