1/11/96

How To Win An Election

Just take a little friendly advice from someone who’s been there.

    "G'morning Bill."
    The President of the United States hated phone calls that began "G'morning Bill," because he was expected to know who the caller was. Now, that's bad enough for regular people, but when you're the President of the United States, and any one of 270 very sensitive national leaders could be on the line, you don't want to guess wrong. A war could start.
    "G'morning! How's the weather out there?"
    "Hot."
    (That narrowed it down.)
    The Prez pressed on. "So what can I do for you today? Is the aid money holding out?"
    "Uh, yeah." The caller realized the President hadn't identified him. Jeez, he thought, I'll bet he had no trouble when Peres called, with that Polish accent of his.
    "Bibi speaking," the caller said amiably.
    "BB King?"
    "No, Bibi Prime Minister. You know, from Israel." 
    "Yes, of course, Mr. Netyan -- Nentah -- Netnaya -- Neyant --"
    "Uh, you can call me Bibi, sir."
    "Right. So. How's the weather out there?"
    "Hot."
    "Of course." The President was flustered. "Is there anything else we have to discuss? I'm pretty busy these days, you know, with the elections and all."
    "In fact," said the Israeli, "that's why I'm calling. I can help you."
    "I see." The American was no longer flustered. Now he was confused. "Can you vote?"
    Bibi winced. No, he said.
    "You want to contribute, then."
    "Wouldn't look right, sir. No, I think I have something better than money. Better than a vote. The greatest gift you can get from the leader of the Jewish People. Advice."
    "Sorry, must be a bad line. Did you say 'advice'?"
    "Yes sir. Advice on how to win an election."
    Well, what do you do when you get a crank call from a prime minister? "Not to put too fine a line on it, but may I remind you that I've been there -- and done that."
    "Times change. You plan on running the same campaign you did in '92?"
    "Not exactly..."
    "Right, then. If you have any hopes of being Time's Man of the Year for 1996 you'll take a little friendly advice. Got a pen? First of all, make up with your worst enemy. The public loves that."
    "But I don't have any enemies. Even Bob Dole says he respects me."
    "That's number two: you have to get Bob to say ugly things about you, to the media, in posters, to the public, in TV ads."
    "Negative. We don't have TV ads. At least, not like you have in Israel."
    "Number three: TV. It's real important nowadays. Always show your best side, look right into the camera, arch an eyebrow, use little sentences and don't talk with your hands. If you can fake an American accent, so much the better."
    "But --"
    "Four: be everything to everyone. Put on a yarmulka and kiss the Wall, from there go to a garbage dump and tell the environmentalists it's got to go, then find some sheikh and sit in his tent and drink coffee, and minutes later drink schnappes in the territories. You got all that?"
    Bill quickly translated Bibi's words into American: go to a church, a nuclear instalation, an African-American leader and ... and ... aha! Puerto Rico.
    "Five: Say nice things about Rabin."
    "No problem."
    "Six: Make sure Leah Rabin says terrible things about you. You can't believe how many votes she won for me."
    "But Bibi, I think she likes me."
    "Then you're sunk."
    The President sighed. "I'll try."
    "Seven: The religious. Promise them everything. But don't tell anyone else."
    "The religious?"
    "You know -- beards, black clothes, never smile, no traffic on the Sabbath."
    The President shrugged. He didn't know how the Amish could help him win the elections.
    "Eight: The anti-religious. Promise them everything. But don't tell anyone else."
    "No can do. We don't have anti-religious people here. It's not allowed.
    "Ten: If your wife is not politically correct, get another one."
    "Wow. I'd better check the polls on that one. Uh, Bibi, you skipped 'nine.'"
    "Under the circumstances, ignore Nine: Renounce your American citizenship. Mind you, if you have Israeli citizenship..."
    "I don't."
    "And check that no one else is using your social security number. Eleven: you need a nickname. You know why Peres never won an election?"
    "No nickname?"
    "That's right. The voters like that. It makes you seem down to earth, from the neighborhood, one of the guys."
    "Well, I used to be known as Billy when I was a baby."
    "No pizzazz. It has to roll off the tongue. Something like ... Dudu."
    "Jeez, no! I used to make that when I was a baby."
    "Alright then, perhaps a play on your name. It worked for me. How do you like 'Bilbul'?"
    "Hmm...."
    "Twelve: Make a big thing about your opponent not having served in the army."
    "Go on to Thirteen."
    "Oh. Sorry. Thirteen: Your age -- and Bob's. Like me and Peres, Bob Dole is old enough to be your father."
    "That could backfire. After all, we're young enough to be their sons. And who wants a kid running the country?"
    "Fourteen: Go on TV and admit you cheated on your wife."
    "What?!"
    "The media will find out anyway. This way you beat them to it, you look honest and responsible, it doesn't become a lingering issue, and it blows over so fast that a month later the public can't remember if it was fact or rumor."
    "Fifteen: Make a personal appearance in every city, town and village in the country."
    "That'll take four years."
    "Look, do you want to win or not?"
    Bill sighed. "Carry on."
    "Sixteen: Surround yourself with the finest people."
    "Gee, that's a good one. Maybe you can lend me Sharon, Eitan and David Levy." Bill could hear Bibi blushing.
    It occurred to Bill that Peres had never offered him any such tips. Who knows -- maybe at this very moment Peres is revealing all his election-winning secrets to Bob. Bill smiled at the thought.
    "Seventeen: Promise you'll cut taxes, decrease the deficit, end poverty, improve education."
    "No one believes that."
    "No, but nobody'll vote for you unless you promise. It's a tradition."
    Bill had put down his pen somewhere around Number Four. Now he picked it up again and began doodling.
    "Eighteen: Promise you'll do everything possible for regional peace."
    "Peace with Canada?! Are you serious?!"
    "And finally, Nineteen: Promise you'll do everything possible to eradicate terrorism."
    Bill bolted. He suddenly stopped doodling, and scribbled Bibi's words. "Good bit of advice there. I can use it."
    Bibi beamed. "Hey, that's what allies are for," he said. "Listen, if you do win, call me back and I'll tell you how to form a coalition."
    The President thanked him and excused himself, explaining that it was nearly lunchtime at the White House.
    Just as he put the phone down, it rang again. "Drat!" he said.
    "G'morning Bill."
    "G'morning! How's the weather out there?"
    "Never mind all that. Get a pen. I'm going to help you win the election."
    Bill groaned. "This wouldn't be Shimon I'm speaking to, would it?"
    "You're right. It wouldn't. This is Hafez. Now, write this down: One: Murder the opposition. Got it?"
    "That's all?"
    "That's all," the Syrian said. "And give my regards to Bob."