Guest AuthorIn the years following the 2010 elections, after Florida had elected Rick Scott as its governor, I was forced to field some tough comments from friends and family in Connecticut, New York and California. The most common was: Your governor looks SO weird. Again and again: weird, strange, confused and puzzled.
I defended Scott vigorously, turning those adjectives against my interlocutors, among them not only Democrats but a few Republicans. It’s a weird attitude to beat up a person for his physical appearance, I argued.
Still, as I watched the recent debates, especially the one in which Charlie Crist smuggled a fan to place between his feet, I focused on Scott’s visage: Ah, those eyes, those lips! What a placid physiognomy, I marveled.
Like a cool pond, nothing moves, not a ripple mars its glassy surface. This face does not show an effort to please. The eyes are wide open and azure, so pleased with themselves that they find no motivation to blink. And the smile? What smile?
I won’t comment on his golden dome.
And Charlie Crist? Good old recycled Charlie. Everyone talks about his tan and his fan and his aborted span in office. Though I must admit that his shock of grey hair atop the bronzed complexion makes for a great photograph. He smiles — often and well-practiced — and his eyes blink, flicker and crinkle charmingly. Do I have any other reason to vote for him?
I seem to remember that during the debates the candidates also talked. Wait a minute till I recall what they said. OK, here we go: Scott and Crist competed with each other as to how poor they’d been growing up. It seems that when running for office, whether currently a millionaire or billionaire, a candidate must prove that he or she had grown up digging the soil for a potato and hungrily eating it raw and covered with dirt. (Too bad George W. Bush had not grown up poor.)
Naturally, every politician loves his mother. It helps when you can say that you were “brought up by a single mother,” who scraped her fingers to the bone so you could attend Harvard.
So what does a Floridian do? My advice comes with a disclaimer: Please give no money to politicians, unless he or she is your child, spouse or beloved friend. However, your contributions and mine mean less than a speck of dust. Since the U.S. Supreme Court allowed the Koch brothers and Tom Steyer to buy even such questionable goods as Scott and Crist, it behooves you to find a friendly bar and enjoy a few drinks on Election Day.
Rachel Patron is a former opinion columnist for the Sun-Sentinel. She resides in Boca Raton and is at work on a contemporary American novel. Column courtesy of Context Florida.
