Apparently Beth Mason and others already announced aren't the only one's considering a run for Hoboken Mayor. Here is an email submitted to me from writer Infotainme who contrubites to this site from time to time.
Is his consideration of running for Mayor delusions of grandeur, well crafted muckraking, or a sarcastic commentary on the state of of politic affairs? This article was submitted to me from Infotainme to serve up "a little distraction while we await the unfolding contrived drama of Ms, Mason's 'decision' ".
Note: The dealine for petitions to be submitted for Hoboken Mayor is September 15th, 4pm at the city Clerk's Office.
Here goes Infotainme again......
Run, Info, Run! Pleeeeeaaasssse…
True story. Recently I was taking my evening stroll along the strand at the Shipyard, contemplating THE REALLY BIG IDEAS, when a distraught citizen ran up to me jabbering incoherently. “Take it easy, old timer,” I said, handing him a few shillings for his trouble. I could barely make sense of his flood of words. But what came through most powerfully was a desperation for leadership. *My* leadership. Loosely paraphrased, his pleading went, “Please help, Info. Make it stop. You alone can clean up this mess in town. You and no one else.”
I listened quasi-intently through my headphones. After I got my discarded shillings back for next time, I walked on as he continued sputtering away over my shoulder. I felt the weight of his desperation like a, well, like a big ole weight that was made out of desperation.
Over the past few weeks this experience has been repeated in all corners of Hoboken. Always with the same grave concern. Info, please. Info, stop this madness. Info, you alone can bring the change we desperately need.
Could they be right? Not about me cleaning up after my LabraDane or getting him to stop uprooting trees in the sidewalk. Surely my tax dollars cover that, and that’s why I’m considering a partial payment at some point down the road. But could they be right that – now, more than ever, *my* leadership is what this town needs?
As Buster happily polished off a large cat or small dog to the delight of a sobbing child, I looked up from my reverie and I found that I was standing at the corner of Constitution and Sinatra. Just as the angels had planned it…
Constitution and Sinatra. Who could ever *unite* those two diverse notions? Our founding legal document and our beloved but not-exactly-constitutional crooner. Those are the values we all share regardless of circumstances. The sacred rights of We the People and secret wisdom of Old Blue Eyes. Must they always be at odds? New Hoboken yelling, no amount of old time politics will produce another Pier A. Old Hoboken hollering back, no amount of your parlor reform BS and consumer fetishes will produce another Frankie. (You have to give that one to the Frankophiles.)
Just then a rat came scuttling up from the ferry and stopped to face me. His ratular voice somehow cut a path through the white noise in my ears. “If you peddle it, they will buy.”
What? You want a pencil? I don’t have a pencil. Shove off. “If you peddle it, they will buy.”
Wait, one more time? I grudgingly turned off my mp3 player. “If you effing peddle it, they will effing buy. Moron.”
Buster enjoyed the pleasant autumnal crunching sounds the magic rat made in his mouth, nothing like the cat/dog, or the crybaby’s tricycle.
As we headed for home I knew I had to make a decision. I saw myself as that judge in the Bible story who was trying to figure out if he could saw the baby into enough pieces for all the guests at the wedding and wondering if the widow was worth all the trouble. Would it kill her to show a little leg?
(Notebook entry: cross off ‘incorporate some holy crap’ from the list of ideas I got from the Swibinski seminar; make sure to erase all notebook entries from final draft.)
When I got home I googled Hoboken+rat. This unfortunately yielded over 12 million entries, so I had to keep narrowing the search. After 4 hours, I got it down to 97,000 options.
And finally I found it – the reason that I am announcing today my candidacy to be your next mayor.
(Notebook entry: paid applause – 7 minutes.)
Oh how I had tried to shut out your voices, those tiny little, annoying voices. But I don’t have those really good noise-cancelling headphones that I’ll have as mayor. Or maybe, just maybe, my heart … is just too big…
(Notebook entry: fake tears. Watch a chick movie beforehand if necessary.)
Now then. Let’s talk about my ‘competition’. Can any of them *really* deliver the goods you’ve been incessantly whining about? What about the ‘transparency’ you’re always blubbering for? Can they produce a list anywhere near as long as mine of business associates and ex-girlfriends who swear that I am the most transparent person they ever met? I think not. Resumes, people, resumes.
And didn’t I hear you braying like a mud-stuck mule about efficiency? Try this on for size – I’m being fitted for a prosthetic arm, even though I have 2 perfectly good arms. Why? The extra arm will hold my sport coat jauntily over my shoulder in the classic campaign trail pose, leaving both hands free to collect donations and grope certain members of the public. Funny, I don’t recall reading anything of the sort on my opponents’ websites. Too busy?
These losers also *claim* to value the little people. But let me assure you, you can’t imagine how small you are to me; and it’s my solemn vow that no one will ever make you feel smaller than I will.
So, who stands alone at the intersection of Constitution and Sinatra with a psychotic rat-eating dog? One man – Info. In-Fo! In-Fo! In-Fo! In-Fo!
Can’t be done you say? Let’s take a simple example. Building variances. Old-timey ‘Sinatra’ way – sell ‘em at Malibu under the table, $5000 a pop. Mincing reformer, ie ‘Constitution’ way – no variances, and no $5000. *My* way – auction ‘em off at city hall. Transparency *and* - a whole lot more than $5000 for the city even after I take my cut. That’s right, bring the vulture bastards downtown and let ‘em have a bidding war for what’s left of the city’s soul. It’s a little late for hand-wringing about over-development, wouldn’t you say?
Which reminds me of transparency idea #2. Campaign transparency. Debates will be replaced by actual hand-wringing contests judged by retired Canadian school teachers. My money’s on Ms. Mason, eh?
But think of it - what if she turns out to be the biggest scandal to hit town since Zimmer tricked Cammarano into accepting bribes so she could become a dual office holder? Who didn’t see that coming?
That’s why you need me. You can see me coming from a mile off. Want more of the good old fashioned common sense thinking that will soon take this city by storm?
Washington Street. The first problem is the name. Be honest – tell me this isn’t the gayest statue you’ve ever seen. http://www.flickr.com/photos/josephhoetzl/2145330750 Except for a few over-hyped accidents of history Washington was basically a loser. (Re: the battle of Trenton - it was Christmas; the Hessians were as drunk as humanly possible. It was like ‘attacking’ Willie McBrides on New Years.) So, we’re officially done with George. Washington Street will now be known as – the Infobahn, a 6-lane 2-level super-highway. How does 1st to 14th 3 1/2 seconds sound, grandpa? Zoom-zoom.
Sensitive as I am to the *feelings*… of the community, I will act in my first days in office to set up a NIMFOBY office –Not in My Front or Back Yard- to field complaints about my many infrastructure projects, the debtors prison, etc. The NIMFOBY will be an unstaffed booth-like ‘facility’ such as you would find in the many construction sites around town, but you can still go there to complain if you feel traffic is passing too close to your sofa. $20/minute. PS. If your sofa interferes with traffic, expect a hefty fine. My administration is serious about fines. I’m sure public safety is nice too. (Overrated.)
Progress breaks a few eggs. Genius is an all-out egg storm.
I haven’t yet decided whether to outlaw the city council or simply outlaw city council meetings. Decisions, decisions. Given my commitment to transparency, I suppose the truest course of action would be to replace them with a rubber stamp – literally. From Staples – that was easy.
By now you are wondering what great idea animates your shepherd. Even as I am wondering how much longer I have to talk to you and pretend to care what you say.
Well, my google searches all came a cropper until I retraced my steps –and Buster’s- and added the missing ingredient: Hoboken+rat *eating*. And voila – up came Hoboken’s other native son, G. Gordon Liddy, who famously caught, cooked, and ate a rat in our fair city to overcome his fear of same.
(http://books.google.com/books?id=YRty_4HT_8kC&pg=PA16&lpg=PA16&dq#v=onepage&q=&f=false )
And so must you all. Until you eat of the rat you will always be afraid of each other – and more importantly – of me, who am here to save you from your natural inclination to be tedious as hell. That and to take you to the cleaners.
To inspire you I am planning a Million Rat March on City Hall. While I don’t yet have a million rats and have limited knowledge of rat husbandry, I’ll definitely get to that magic number soon enough if I judge from the non-stop squealing in the basement. I leave a mirror ball and Barry White on 24/7 for ‘my crew’. I started out with 4 rats, but it’s a full-on sex party down there. I am receiving encouraging complaints almost hourly from my soon-to-be ex-neighbors. I and the rats will process – as it were – to city hall about a week before the election. Bring ketchup.
In closing, realize that I know your thoughts. To the extent that you ever have thoughts. And I hear your questions before you can formulate them. Such as, Info - why are you squandering your valuable time with us? Info - shouldn't you be busy selecting your office staff from the Victoria’s Secret Catalog?
Yes, dear little ones, yes. Yes to both. And I am encouraged by your grasp of what a colossal waste of time it is for me to talk to you. I love you too much to spend any time with you at all. Instead, I should be looking out for your welfare as only I can do and as you will trust me to do. Because I am peddling, and you will buy. That’s what you’re good at.
And we’ll need a new name for our re-imagined city. How does Ratopia sound? ◦
