I write this column on Halloween evening, the scariest night of the year, if you don’t count Tuesday, Nov. 5.
Working in the entertainment industry as I do, I am often sought after for my enlightened take on such weighty worldly matters as climate change, the potential of a third world war, and of course my reasoning and preference for the next leader of the greatest country on earth. After all, I studied at some of the more prestigious institutions for theatre in New York City and Chicago, so I should possess some modicum of socio-political insight you other people just wouldn’t understand.
There are certain newspapers in this election cycle that have opted out of offering their official endorsement for President, which has resulted in incredibly surly editorial boards threatening to write letters to, themselves. They have somehow gotten it into their noggin that their opinion matters to the masses. Who would be so full of themselves to think that? Excuse me as I clear my throat.
When I’m participating in choosing a new leader, be it the next commander in chief, or chairperson of our non-profit theatre board of trustees, or the new executive director of our Sunday evening mixed sauna and quilters club, I consider a number of issues; Foreign affairs? Economic platform? Immigration solutions? Limits on complimentary sauna towels? All worthy subsets, don’t get me wrong, but I present here before you, four other considerations that are not always the first on other voters’ list of “musts,” Elon.
First, does the nominee owe me money? If she or he still owes me money, I break that down into how long they have been indebted to me, and while I’m waiting for them to pay me back, what have I noticed them spending that money on in the mean-time?
Acceptable borrowed money expenditures, that’s easy; beef jerky? Absolutely, that’s a no brainer. Lamps? Not so much. Bag of chips? If they’re rippled or bar-b-cued, of course. Acid wash bell-bottom jeans? I don’t think so.
If they have taken the $50 I loaned them and bought an overpriced pillow at a drastic discount from a TV pitchman wearing his cross on the outside of his blue, shiny shirt, I’m suspect. If it went towards some youth cookie mix fundraiser, I look forward to them sharing that one dozen of cookies with me that my $50 was used towards the doughy down payment.
Next up, are they a cat person or dog person? I’m a dog person, and in my first 60 years I have been blessed to snuggle with Tag, George I, George II, Barney, Phineas, Henry, Sherman, Max-Duane, and now Wally, a rescue from Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico, and Clare, a rescue from Maine that we had removed from some nasty Nellie that decided the best way to keep Clare in line during her puppy years was to smack her around with the wire end of a flyswatter.
You’ll be happy to learn that Clare is now happy and spoiled rotten, and staring at me from our couch as I write this. I’ve been told “Nellie” is currently being smacked around by the wire end of a fly swatter. Ah the sweet nectar of Karma!
I have experienced only one cat in my life, named Claude. Claude lived in the three bedroom apartment I shared in Brooklyn Heights with Matt and Gary during a few of my years in New York. Matt and Gary had this apartment before my arrival, and I soon found out after a series of unfortunate instances, that my bedroom was originally Claude’s, and he and his extra claws (hence his name) were none too happy to have me as his new roomie. To say we got along would be akin to suggesting Popeye and Bluto would be bench mates in the same mixed sauna and quilter’s club. Hey, how did I get off on this tangent? This column is starting to mirror my acting career, aimless, and void of any substance.
Third criteria, and likely my most scientific, I compare the number of trick or treaters dressed up as either candidate. Whichever I see the most begging at our door that evening is usually the winner. Of course I did spot one Richard Nixon candy beggar this year. It might have been Anthony Hopkins. It was getting dark.
My fourth and final criteria, and probably the most important, at least for me anyway, is which candidate doesn’t take themselves so seriously. Which one is able to laugh at themselves, make a joke and take a joke, and be self-deprecating? That can tell you a lot about a person. Without a sense of humor, we’d be, France.
Hopefully what I have laid out here will help those of you who are still undecided. And if you are still on the fence at this point in the game I’d hate to be with you when it’s time to order at a drive-through. “Just order the nuggets already, Phyllis! We’ve got 20 cars behind us!”
And so here we find ourselves, at the end of another prize-wanting column, and I know the suspense of my endorsement must be driving you bonkers. Rest-assured I have put more thought and consideration into this year’s presidential campaign than ever before, and I can confidently encourage without reservation…whoops, we’re out of room.
Steve Burnette is an occasional contributor to the paper when space is needed to fill. He also serves as the executive director of the historic Murphy Theatre in downtown Wilmington, Ohio, and serves on the Board of Directors of the Ohio Arts Professionals Network.
