Perfect for Mother's Day: the Baby Be of Use series or The Secret Language of Sleep. - - - - |
Newest entries: November 1-3. - - - - Friday, May 7 This evening, the Florida Division of Elections website posted the names of all the qualifying candidates for Congress. I am one of three candidates in the Fourth Congressional District in the Jacksonville area. Ander Crenshaw, the conservative Republican incumbent, faces a primary challenge from Deborah Katz Pueschel, who thinks he isn't right-wing enough to reverse what she calls our "current course of gradual socialism." Two years ago, Crenshaw beat her with 90 percent of the vote, and he's sure to win the G.O.P. nomination again. I'm the only registered Democrat in the race. But, unable to afford the nine-thousand-dollar filing fee to get the official party designation, I'm a write-in candidate. Under Florida's bizarre election laws, write-in votes count only if they're for "qualified" candidates like me. If I weren't a candidate, Congressman Crenshaw's name wouldn't be on the November ballot. There just wouldn't be an election. Four of Florida's twenty-five House members were elected this afternoon when they did not get a primary or write-in opponent. Over 90 percent of Americans live in congressional districts that are essentially one-party monopolies. Of Florida's twenty-five House seats, seven are safe for Democrats, and sixteen are safe for Republicans. The Fourth is the most Republican district in the state. But I'm hoping to give anyone opposed to Crenshaw's positions a chance to vote for someone else. In the last Congress, Crenshaw voted for more Bush tax cuts and the war in Iraq. He supported oil development in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, limiting the Patients' Bill of Rights, and banning "partial-birth" abortion. Crenshaw voted against campaign-finance reform. As of March, his campaign committee had $612,691 in cash. Mine had bupkis. - - - - Saturday, May 8 When I was out last night, I got a phone message from a Pueschel supporter who wanted to know how much Rep. Crenshaw had paid me to "close" the Republican primary. In Florida, everyone, regardless of party affiliation, can vote in a primary when only one party is running candidates for a particular office. But as a write-in candidate, I've created at least theoretical competition in November, so now Democrats and independents can't vote in the Republican primary. Given that Pueschel is even further to the right than Crenshaw, I can't imagine why the caller thought she'd do better in a primary that included Democratic voters. Besides, the Congressman would never pay someone like me to manipulate the election. As a candidate in the 1994 G.O.P. gubernatorial primary—in which he finished fourth—Crenshaw publicly vowed that he would never hire anyone who was gay. - - - - Monday, May 10 This morning the Florida Times-Union's "Political Ticker" column listed my name with other candidates. The item said all five local members of Congress were sure bets for reelection. It noted that Rep. Corinne Brown, the Democrat whose district includes all of Jacksonville's nonwhite neighborhoods, is facing two "virtual unknowns" named Prince Brown and Johnny Brown. I've run twice before as a write-in candidate against Republican House members, and experience tells me that press coverage can make a big difference. In 1994, when I ran against Rep. Michael Bilirakis of Clearwater, the Tampa Tribune published a story about me on the front page of the local-news section. An African-American newspaper noticed I supported reparations for slavery and endorsed me. I got 153 votes. Two years later, as the sole opponent of Rep. Ileana Ros-Lehtinen of Miami, I got no publicity and only eight write-in votes. - - - - Thursday, May 13 Today I got my first survey from a lobbying group. Surveys from interest groups are fun to fill out and can help the campaign. Answering a survey from the National Organization for Women actually got me their endorsement in 1994. This group is Gun Owners of America. Their letterhead says "27 Years of No Compromise—1975-2002," leading me to wonder if they started compromising last year or simply have not had a chance to update their stationery. The letter, from John Velleco, the director of federal affairs for the Virginia-based organization, begins, "The members of Gun Owners of America in your state are extremely interested in your views on the subject of gun control." The GOA 2004 Congressional Candidate Survey is four pages. My name, address, state, and congressional district are preprinted on the top of the first page. I must fill out, sign, and return the survey by May 31. There are twelve questions, most with multiple parts. They've worded it so that a "Yes" response is their position, leading to questions asking if I would ... ... oppose requiring handgun buyers to pass a mandatory safety test? ... oppose requiring mandatory trigger locks or other locked-storage requirements? ... support a repeal of the 1993 Brady instant check? ... oppose legislation to keep in place the 1994 law banning many types of semiautomatic firearms and limiting magazine capacity? I checked "No" on every question but one, and I think that was only because I misinterpreted it. I answered "Yes" to number nine: "Would you oppose a ban on any type of ammunition?" The follow-up question was: "If no, what type(s)?" This confused me totally. I assumed they meant "If yes, what type(s)?" and in the space provided, I wrote, "BB gun pellets." That won't be good enough to get me the endorsement of Gun Owners of America. - - - - Monday, May 17 A woman from Oklahoma named Tammy calls to tell me how I can use "voice-message marketing" in my campaign. She's gotten my number from the Florida Division of Elections website. "By using our service," Tammy tells me, "you can send your personalized recorded message to home answering machines and what we call real people." I could also do phone surveys and get real people to donate money. "We give you a code to call into and our computer records your message and then dials the numbers of voters," Tammy says. "It will sound just like you would sound on the telephone, not like some computer-generated recording." "So it's not a computer-generated recording?" I ask her. "No, it is, but it doesn't sound like it," she says. "It sounds as if you're actually taking the time to call. Arnold Schwarzenegger called three million people this way. Some people were so excited by his call that they saved his messages—though I'm not sure what they'll do with them." I point out that Arnold Schwarzenegger is a celebrity and nobody in Florida's Fourth Congressional District knows who I am. They won't recognize my high-pitched nasal New York accent and will hang up on me. Then I remember that my brother Jonathan does a great Ah-nold imitation. Maybe I could have Jonathan record a message in Schwarzenegger's voice telling voters what a fahn-tas-tic candidate I am. Tammy thinks this is a very creative idea. Her firm, MP Marketing, has been doing political campaigns for about a year. Mostly they do "commercial," meaning calls for satellite-TV companies trolling for subscribers, or doctors' offices doing collections or confirming appointments. I tell Tammy it will be a while before I'd do any voice-message marketing. She says she'll send me the quotes on what five thousand calls would cost. Before I hang up, I can't resist: "Hey, you're actually a person talking to me in real time, right?" Tammy laughs. "That's what the voters in your district will think," she says. - - - - Tuesday, May 18 I find a letter from the Florida Department of State in my mailbox. The Department of State contains both the Elections Division and the Cultural Affairs Division, so till I open the envelope, I'm not sure if it's related to my campaign or to my recent application for an individual-artist fellowship in fiction writing. A week after the November 2000 presidential election, when former Secretary of State Katherine Harris was busy fixing things so that George W. Bush would win, she still had time to send out a letter nominating me to the Cultural Affairs Division's grant panel in multidisciplinary arts. Today's letter, though, is from the Elections Division: a memo from Phyllis Hampton, the chief of the Bureau of Election Records. She says that because my papers to qualify as a federal candidate are in order, under Section 101.5612 Florida Statutes, she is notifying me that voting equipment to be used in each county must be pretested prior to an election. I have the right to be present at the equipment pretest. Florida's infamous punch cards and hanging chads from 2000—when nearly twenty-seven thousand votes for president were invalidated in Jacksonville—are now history. We'll be voting with optical scanning and electronic touch-screen machines, which may be even worse, because they don't leave a paper trail. In Duval County—Jacksonville—the Republican supervisor of elections has bought voting machines manufactured by Diebold, a company whose CEO, an important G.O.P. fundraiser, last year signed a letter pledging his commitment "to helping Ohio deliver its electoral votes to the President." Diebold electronic voting machines were banned in four counties in California last month after vote counts malfunctioned. When the Diebold source code was accidentally posted online last year, computer scientists determined that it could easily be hacked to produce election fraud. In Broward and Palm Beach last January, my friend Ellyn—one of the few intelligent Republicans I know—won a special election for the state legislature by just twelve votes. Electronic voting machines showed that 137 people who went to the polls cast no ballot, even though it was the day's only election. Last month, the Elections Division ruled that it would not permit manual re-counts on touch-screen machines. I would love to see how these new machines handle write-in votes. - - - - Wednesday, May 19 A week ago I wrote to Folio Weekly, Jacksonville's alternative newspaper, telling them about my campaign. Last night I got a message from a staff writer who wants to do a phone interview. Before I call back, I Google him and find out he's into environmentalism and hip-hop. Doing background research on a journalist sort of makes me feel like a smarmy politician, but I guess I'd better get used to it. The first thing the reporter wants to know is why I'm running in a congressional district in North Florida when I live in South Florida. I explain that I was looking for a district in which no Democrat had filed against a Republican incumbent. Originally, I was going to run against Rep. Tom Feeney in Daytona Beach, but I got faked out by a report that a real Democrat was going to run in that district. Nobody did, and Feeney—more of a religious-right conservative than Crenshaw, the guy I'm running against—has already been re-elected without opposition. I tell the reporter that I know Jacksonville from once teaching a college class that met on Saturday in the phone-company building downtown. The course was called The Individual and Society. I had the students read Tocqueville and watch the movie Ordinary People. The reporter asks what kind of people I think will vote for me. "Since I'm a write-in candidate," I say, "they'll have to be able to write. So that basically lets out the entire population of Lake City." I talk about my opposition to the war, about my going to demonstrations carrying a sign that said "Fifty Million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong." "Let's cut and run," I say, "and bring our torturers home." The reporter laughs, but I remind myself to go easy on the jokes. He asks my position on abortion rights (yes), the legalization of drugs (yes), and gay marriage (yes). I say my campaign theme song is "Don't Believe the Hype" although I recognize that "Fight the Power" is the more obvious choice. When I tell the reporter that the number of votes I get depends on how much media attention I get, he says, "Well, let's see if we can give you some publicity." The article should be out next week, but since I'm not in Jacksonville, I'm relying on the paper to send me a copy. I mail the reporter a stamped, self-addressed envelope, using the last of my Paul Robeson stamps.
- - - - Thursday, May 20 The photo editor of Folio Weekly e-mails me. The paper needs a photo for the article, and the ones on my website are too small. They are also from 1999 and don't show how decrepit I actually am. So I go to a local photography shop—their sign says "WEDDING PHOTOGRAPHY"—to get a quick headshot. I'm wearing a dark T-shirt. At home beforehand, trying on various outfits, I was horrified to discover that in a tie and jacket, I look like I actually could be someone's congressman. The photographers, two brothers in their mid-50s, tell me how good the picture will come out. "How good could it possibly be?" I say. "You're starting out with a meeskite." "Oh, he speaks Chinese," one brother says to the other. It turns out they grew up in the Glenwood projects a few blocks from me in Brooklyn, that we all went to J.H.S. 285. Too bad they don't live in the Fourth Congressional District. I suspect few people from Brooklyn do. As the younger brother takes my picture, he asks why the newspaper is doing a story on me. "Oh, I'm a writer," I tell him. I'm too embarrassed to say I'm running for Congress. I make sure he digitally fixes my turkey neck and softens my wrinkles before we e-mail the photo to Folio Weekly in Jacksonville. - - - - Monday, May 24 I get a postcard from VictoryStore.com, one of the many businesses that make money off political campaigns. They sell bumper stickers, posters, notepads, refrigerator magnets, and other tchotchkes. They do direct mail, automated phone calls (voice-message marketing?), polling, website design, signs, and banners. VictoryStore.com campaign packages come in three sizes, ranging from $1699 to $599. Their Medium Campaign Package includes: 500 bumper stickers, 250 lawn/yard signs, 250 sign frames or wires, 1000 literature bags, 1000 lapel stickers, 24 campaign T-shirts, a 2-foot-by-6-foot banner, and a digital version of the Winning the Tough Ones campaign manual. - - - - Wednesday, May 26 I get a letter from John Berthoud, president of the National Taxpayers Union (NTU), asking me to fill out their 2004 Congressional Candidate Survey. The Virginia-based organization plans to post my answers online "for the benefit of our 350,000-plus members." "If you choose not to respond, you will be listed as refused to respond or did not respond," Berthoud writes. "We hope that you will respond because we want to be fair to you and every other candidate for the U.S. House or Senate." NTU's affiliated PAC, the National Taxpayers Union Campaign Fund, "may well review" the surveys to determine endorsements. I check their website and am kind of surprised to see that they've rated most of Florida's Republican House members, including Crenshaw, only a C+ on taxing and spending issues. Two ultraconservative GOP congressmen rate an A and get a Taxpayers' Friend Award. All the Florida Democrats get D or F. They are in NTU's "Big Spender" category, which is where I'd probably feel at home. I check "No" to all 11 questions on the survey. I oppose tax limitation and balanced-budget amendments to the Constitution, "Social Security Choice," and repealing the entire federal tax code and replacing it with a national sales tax or "a single, low, flat-rate income tax." I won't pledge to make all of Bush's tax cuts permanent or to ensure that legislation I sponsor will cause a net reduction in federal spending. Finally, I sign my name under the sentence "My answers are a firm and unconditional commitment to the people of the United States" and send the questionnaire back to the National Taxpayers Union. - - - - Saturday, May 29 I came home from a day at the annual Memorial Day Hip-Hop Festival in Miami Beach to find the copy of the Folio Weekly article sent by the reporter, Hamilton Nolan. It's titled "The Player," with the subhead "Congressional candidate Richard Grayson turns the political arena into a theatre of the absurd." My photo is above Congressman Crenshaw's and is about three times the size of his picture. The article begins: "Ander Crenshaw, the two-term Republican congressman from Florida's fourth district, is in for the fight of his life in the upcoming election ... If Crenshaw is to survive to see a third term in the U.S. House of Representatives, he will have to defeat a man whose name is recognized by literally dozens of Americans—Richard Grayson." I'm called "every seasoned politician's worst fear—a verbose, unknown, unrestrained, write-in mock-challenger." Nolan has used my joke about people in Lake City not being able to write and mentions that I find "particularly irksome" Crenshaw's remark that he would not knowingly hire a homosexual: "In the unlikely event of a debate, Grayson says he would inquire whether the congressman 'is as stupid as that remark made him sound.' Crenshaw's office did not return a call seeking comment on the subject." Other excerpts: "Admittedly, Grayson's campaign isn't blasting into high gear. He says he makes an effort to do one campaign-oriented thing every day. On a recent afternoon, he selected his personal theme song: 'Don't Believe the Hype,' by Public Enemy. He briefly considered using 'Fight the Power,' but dismissed it as 'too trite.'" "Grayson is chock-full of new ideas for the new century. He favors the decriminalization of marijuana, socialized health care and a speedy exit from the quagmire in Iraq. The focus, he says, should be on 'bringing our torturers home.'" "Grayson lives in South Florida, and the distance has precluded him from scheduling any rallies in District 4. He says that he doesn't travel in the area much, but calls Jacksonville 'pretty cool,' having come a long way from its grimy, polluted past. 'I do notice the district is smelling better,' he says." "He hopes to gain support from the vocal anti-Dubya demographic: 'I'm gonna get the people who hate Bush,' he says, 'who want to see him as the guest of honor at a Fallujah barbecue.'" "But perhaps Grayson is just the man for the job," the article ends. "'If you want to piss off the people at the Division of Elections, that's a good thing to do,' he says. 'It's not gonna make a difference, but it might make you feel better.'" Hamilton Nolan and Folio Weekly have provided the first real publicity for my campaign. I just hope it's not my last. - - - - Monday, June 28 I'm trying to catch up on the congressional-candidate questionnaires I've gotten while I was in Los Angeles the last few weeks. Most of them follow the same format, largely yes/no questions, with "Yes" being the answer the organization doing the asking wants to hear. The longest survey comes from Phyllis Schafly's right-wing Eagle Forum, with a checklist of 69, count 'em, 69 questions. I find myself checking "No" after "No" to questions like these: "Will you vote to abolish the National Endowment for the Arts?" "Will you vote to defund the Violence Against Women Act, widely known as 'feminist pork'?" "Will you vote to stop coed basic training in the Army, Navy, and Air Force?" "Do you oppose the judge-invented notion that abortion is a right protected by the Constitution?" After about 40 of these, I think, Oh hell, I'll just check "No" all the way through. That's what I did on the eight-question "Freedom Survey" from Citizens for a Sound Economy, refusing to give my support to "class action lawsuit reform that ends frivolous lawsuits and returns our legal system to decent, honest Americans with real grievances" and "medical malpractice reform that will stop the fleecing of doctors, businesses, and consumers." But then the Eagle Forum asks this question: "Will you oppose any legislation that would make workforce training the mission of the schools?" This stumps me. Having been a college teacher and administrator for nearly 30 years, I deplore the way higher education has increasingly emphasized the training of future corporate employees over learning for learning's sake. Feeling I somehow must have misunderstood the question, I reluctantly check "Yes"—only to find myself in agreement with Eagle Forum on the next half-dozen other questions, including: "Will you vote against any bill that preempts stronger state privacy laws?" "Will you vote to prohibit the use of genetic testing as a condition for insurance coverage?" "Will you oppose a National Constitutional Convention for any purpose?" Agreement stops when I come to the penultimate question: "Will you support withdrawing jurisdiction of the federal courts over challenges to the Defense of Marriage Act?" Then a follow-up, the only question calling for a narrative answer: "What else will you do to support traditional marriage?" This stumps me for a while. Finally, I scribble: "Kill Liza Minelli." - - - - Tuesday, June 29 The briefest and most puzzling questionnaire is the "Kids in Focus 2004 Candidate Survey" from the Vision Council of America. The first four questions test my knowledge, asking stuff like "Did you know that undiagnosed vision problems can lead to permanent vision loss and difficulty in school?" The fifth and final question is this toughie: "If elected, will you support increasing the number of children that receive an eye exam from an eye doctor?" Who could be against that? A politician whose district's biggest employers are manufacturers of white canes? In addition to the support/oppose checklists, sometimes surveys ask open-ended questions. Por ejemplo, Citizens for Global Solutions gives me two lines to write an answer to: "What are the most important global problems facing the United States? How should the U.S. empower international organizations to address these concerns?" I can fit in only 17 words about "empire" and cooperating with various international organizations, an answer whose banality nauseates me even as I squish in its last word, "peace," on the margin of the page. Some of the surveys quiz me on issues that require me to do a lot of research to answer them—part of the fun of being a candidate. The Armenian National Committee of America's questions, for instance, include: "Do you support maintaining Section 907 of the Freedom Support Act as a statement of U.S. opposition to Azerbaijan's blockades?" After about half an hour of going through news articles, mostly from the BBC, I decide I do. The Armenian survey made me think about issues that tend not to come up in conversations with even my most political of friends: stuff like Nagorno-Karabagh's right to self-determination and taxpayer subsidies for the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline route. I tell the ANCA that I'm with Foreign Minister Oskanyan on these issues. On the other hand, among the many international agreements the Bush administration hates, it's hard to give Citizens for Global Solutions my "three highest priorities for ratification." I pick the Kyoto Protocol (climate change), the Ottawa Treaty (land mines), and the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties Between States and International Organizations or Between International Organizations. It would be nice to be able to take congressional junkets to those cities, too. - - - - Sunday, July 4 I celebrate a glorious Fourth by filling out my July quarterly report for the Federal Election Commission. The FEC was established in the wake of the Watergate scandal, and as we all know, it has eliminated the corrupt influence of money on federal campaigns. This report covers the period from April Fools' Day to June 30 and must be filed by all principal campaign committees of congressional candidates, including those who are unopposed and candidates whose names do not appear on the ballot—like me. My principal campaign committee is called Democrat Grayson for the House and has been given the FEC identification number C00387829. As the treasurer of the committee, I am the custodian of records and am responsible for filling out a summary and then a detailed statement of our contributions and expenditures. Since my campaign took in no money during April, May, or June, this mostly involves entering zeros in lots of little boxes. I do not have to fill out FEC Form 3's Schedule D: Debts and Obligations, as I owe no money to fat cats or thin dogs. As for FEC Form 3Z-1, which is titled—I do not kid—Consolidated Report of Gross Receipts for Authorized Committees (Millionaires' Amendment), the less said, the better. - - - - Tuesday, July 13 Every day now I get mail from companies that make money off political candidates. Some examples: 1. A video titled Reach the People and Win, from Duplication Factory, CD/video marketing specialists, that tells me, "Many politicians are still making the mistake of giving only 'the facts' and missing the emotional element that video can provide." 2. A postcard from Mid State Screen Graphics, trying to sell me a sign printed on Colorplast™ corrugated plastic, "the most weatherproof and durable sign material you can use in Florida's sunny/windy/rainy/hot/humid environment." 3. A packet from Magnet Street, with samples showing me how I can increase my name recognition as a candidate by placing magnets with my name on them inside voters' homes. 4. A letter from Imprint Promotions that begins, "Dear Richard, I know you are busy, I will make this quick. First, I wanted to thank you for your commitment to making our nation a better place," before going on to tell me about the bumper stickers, buttons, and banners I can purchase from them. 5. A leaflet from The Almanac of Federal PACs: 2004-05, a volume that contains contacts for every political action committee that contributed at least $25,000 to candidates in the 2002 election. ("When you're hunting for PAC money, it helps to have a map!") 6. A brochure from Outdoor Mobile Media touting their billboards as the best way of "maximizing those 2.3 seconds you've got to reach those undecided voters!" 7. A letter from Fiberhaus Consulting ("Value. Empathy. Passion. Interaction.") telling me about PoliticalAssist, a line of software that will reduce time spent on such activities as volunteer training, data entry, and voter outreach by 40 percent. Its CodeFleet program enables campaign workers to "immediately record results from volunteers who make personal contact with voters who make personal contact with voters using bar codes and scanners." - - - - Wednesday, July 14 Last night I threw out all my candidate junk mail but couldn't bear to give up my favorite: the glossy catalog from Donahue Campaign & Election Products, featuring a cornucopia of useful merchandise. They offer items like a 7-foot-by-10-foot hot-air balloon with my slogan on it for $650 and a fan printed in red and blue on white six-ply cardboard, coated on one side. The illustration fan says, "I'm a Fan of Shelly Kelb Price for Webster County Clerk." Donahue's biggest seller is "The Winningest Sign," available "in brilliant colors and featuring a no-show-thru material, totally weatherproof, printed both sides with non-fading ink." A thousand of these Winningest signs in two colors, 26 feet by 16 feet, would set me back $1942. Eager for bipartisan sales, Donahue illustrates this item with samples that say "Bush/Cheney" and "Tom Daschle for South Dakota." I can also buy custom-design litterbags (1000 for $155); book matches with my logo ($90 for one case); rulers and yardsticks; "fun flyers" (Frisbee must be a trademark); suede coasters; super-soaker sponges ("Rise Up and Elect McLin State Senator"); seed packets ("Sow the Seeds of Victory for Keith for Circuit Judge"); golf tees; wooden nickels; sewing kits; unbreakable plasti-clip ad-combs; emery boards; fly swatters; magic-grip jar openers; doorknob hangers; and fortune cookies. Another item on sale is a bookmark featuring my campaign slogan and my choice of a calendar, a list of the Presidents, or the Serenity Prayer, 500 for $135. God grant me the PAC contributions to pay for all this stuff. - - - - Friday, July 16 Today I get a letter that I'm too scared to open for a while. It's from the Department of Defense. The last piece of mail I got bearing that return address traumatized me. That 1970 letter carried the salutation "Greetings!" It invited me to spend several hours at Fort Hamilton walking around in my underwear with 100 other 18-year-olds to be assessed for my fitness to serve as cannon fodder in Vietnam. To my relief, today's invitation will not require getting notes from psychiatrists about the guarded prognosis of my extremely serious mental illness. (When candidate-information forms include a space for my military experience, I write in "Draft Dodger.") Pursuant to the Uniformed and Overseas Citizens Absentee Voting Act (UOCAVA), the Defense Department is giving 2004 congressional candidates the opportunity to record a personal audio message to all military personnel, their family members, and U.S. citizens residing overseas. The Pentagon's Voting Information Center advises me to keep my recorded message short because "callers tend to switch to another message after about one minute." Vowing to control my tendency to ramble, I call their number in Northern Virginia. ("Collect calls are not accepted.") As suggested, I open by introducing myself: "Hey, I'm Richard Grayson, a liberal Democrat running for Congress from Florida's Fourth District." I spell my name and give the URL for my website. ("You may also give contact information should the caller want to find out more about your platform.") Another bit of advice from the DOD: "Keep in mind that over half the callers are in the military; however, they are as interested in all timely issues as locals are." It's always good to stick to three issues. I will tell them I'm against the war in Iraq, and if they don't hang up after that, they'll hear me say I'm for socialized medicine ... and then ... I get stuck on the third issue. I don't know whether to pick raising the minimum wage, protecting the environment, or other issues like education, civil liberties, or the budget deficit. How specific can I be in seven seconds? Finally, I lamely come out in favor of "equal rights for all Americans" but don't have time to add "regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, marital status, religion, disability, or national origin." After listening to my just-recorded message to military voters, I'm really happy that I haven't yet been interviewed on the radio. - - - - Saturday, July 17 For a second time, I send my candidate questionnaire to the Florida National Organization for Women's Political Action Committee. Linda Miklowitz, their president, called to say she mislaid my first e-mailed questionnaire. Their endorsement meeting in Orlando is coming up and she didn't want me "to get left out." Rep. Crenshaw is anti-choice and generally terrible on women's issues. I know my positions are pretty much what FL-NOW-PAC supports. I'm in favor of an equal-rights amendment, affirmative action, government funding of abortions, marriage equality, campaign-finance reform, and universal health care. But when they asked if I had a campaign plan, I had to write: "Not really." Their final question was open-ended: "Define 'feminist.'" As an undergrad, I took a Sex and Politics seminar and read a lot of feminist theory. I read more in a law-school Feminist Jurisprudence class. I wrote that I'm not smart enough to give a good definition. Then I relied on the old Potter Stewart dodge: "But I do know a feminist when I see one, and I see one in the mirror every morning when I'm shaving." - - - - Sunday, July 18 Googling, I discover that Café Press—the website where I bought my "Punks for Dean" T-shirt and my "Pardon Martha!" coffee mug—is selling a red and blue bumper sticker that says "Grayson / U.S. Congress." Product Number 11930389 sells for $3.95, measures "a generous 10 x 3 inches," and is printed on 4-mil. vinyl so it will neither fade in the sun nor bleed in the rain. The product copy says: "Richard Grayson is definitely one of the more irregular congressional candidates there is, running against Bush/Cheney Republican Ander Crenshaw. Grayson is a write in candidate, so give him your vote." I click on their page for Florida campaign stuff and I see my bumper sticker is fourth, just after the John Kerry Florida Fleece Shorts, the Florida Democratic Coffee Mug, and the Florida John Kerry Baseball Cap, and before bumper stickers for Corinne Brown and Allan Boyd, who are actual members of Congress. The last item is a bumper sticker reading "Florida Says Vote Kucinich." I order three Grayson bumper stickers for myself and click on "Tell a friend about this product!" Later, my father calls from Arizona to say he's buying one, too. Neither of us will actually put it on the back of our cars. I want my 2000 Chevy Cavalier to be bumper-sticker-free in case one day I have to sell it to a conservative. - - - - Friday, July 23 Yesterday, the House passed the Marriage Protection Act. This bill strips federal courts of jurisdiction over the Defense of Marriage Act, a 1996 law saying that states need not recognize same-sex-union laws of other states. In other words, Congress is saying it should be able to pass a law and prevent courts from even considering the law's constitutionality. Rep. Crenshaw, like most Republicans, voted for this ludicrous bill. Thirty-five years ago, Crenshaw graduated from the University of Florida law school. Ten years ago, I graduated from the same school with high honors. I'm sure Constitutional Law has always been a required course. Crenshaw must have read Marbury v. Madison, the 1803 ruling establishing judicial review. He should know the Supreme Court is the final authority on a law's constitutionality. I actually first learned about Marbury v. Madison and separation of powers back in junior high. So what was Crenshaw doing at UF? Well, I've heard he founded a chapter of Campus Crusade for Christ and courted his wife Kitty there. Back then, Kitty's father, Claude Kirk, was the Republican governor. Kirk was a flamboyant figure, a kind of Floridian Huey Long. At his inaugural ball, the divorced governor introduced his stunning young fiancée only as "Madame X." A populist, Kirk shook up a sleepy Southern state. In 1988, I voted for Kirk, who had switched parties, in the Democratic Senate primary. He finished fifth, with 5 percent of the vote. "It's lonely here at the bottom," Kirk said. At Alabama Law School, Kirk said, he never got above a C. But I bet Kirk knows that the courts will declare the Marriage Protection Act unconstitutional. I bet his son-in-law knows it, too. Of course, Congress could always pass a Marriage Protection Act Protection Act to try to prevent that. And a Marriage Protection Act Protection Act Protection Act after that. My head hurts to think about it. - - - - Tuesday, July 27 The League of Women Voters of Tallahassee has invited me to participate in some campaign events they are sponsoring. Among them is "Bandwagon 2004," to take place at the WFSU public-TV studio on Red Barber Plaza. "Bandwagon 2004" will be a live TV show that will give candidates for Congress, county commissioner, sheriff, tax collector, property appraiser, and Ochlockonee River Soil & Water Conservation Supervisor the opportunity to have two minutes of airtime. The letter says, "The Bandwagon 2004 atmosphere again will be that of an old-fashioned political rally complete with lively music such as that of John Philip Sousa or a barbershop quartet when your two minutes are up. You are encouraged to bring supporters (no more than 10 per candidate) carrying campaign signs. These supporters and the signs may appear on television, too." The Fourth Congressional District is so weirdly drawn to include the maximum number of GOP voters that it extends over 160 miles from its heart in Jacksonville to take in a Republican sliver of Florida's capital city. Tallahassee is a great town, but it's a nine-hour drive from my house—too far to go for two minutes on TV. - - - - Friday, July 30 Yesterday, I got a notice to pick up a certified letter at the post office. It turns out to be from the Christian Coalition of Florida, asking me to fill out their candidate-issues survey. These questionnaires are coming in at the rate of about one a day now. This must be religious week, as I got one a few days ago from Joyce Meyers Ministries. At first I was impressed, because Joyce Meyers Ministries' questions were worded so neutrally that I couldn't tell they were typical right-wing nuts till I checked their website. Then I realized that Joyce Meyers Ministries must maintain a façade of nonpartisanship to keep their tax exemption as a religious organization. The Christian Coalition survey lists 97 issues. Next to each one, I must draw a circle around the appropriate letter: "S"=Support, "O"=Oppose, "U"=Undecided. It also has spaces for me to fill in my pastor's name and my church. I write "None" in both those spaces. I'm an atheist. But given the state of my campaign, I'm thinking about offering a novena to St. Jude, patron saint of hopeless causes. - - - - Saturday, July 31 The survey in this morning's mail comes not from a religious group but from the Florida Music Educators' Association. While Crenshaw wants to sharply cut arts funding, I support the FMEA's positions on strengthening the fine-arts curriculum in the schools. Their final question: "What cultural events (concerts, exhibitions, etc.) have you attended in the past year?" I jot down a few, and then write: "I don't have space or time to list all of them. Right now I'm on my way to the Pompano Beach Amphitheater for the Warped Tour, where I will encourage the children in the mosh pit to appreciate fine music." I hope the fine music includes Taking Back Sunday's "You're So Last Summer." That song should be taught in every school in this state. - - - - Sunday, August 1 I meet my friends Alex and Luis for lunch at Stork's Bakery, which is owned by another congressional candidate running against a Republican incumbent. Jim Stork, the former mayor of Wilton Manors, is a longtime gay and community activist. He's trying to unseat Clay Shaw, who's represented the Fort Lauderdale area in the House for over 20 years. Stork has the endorsement of many liberal organizations. Alex and Luis want to know why I don't try to get similar support. I explain that these groups don't want to endorse hopeless candidates. It doesn't look good to prospective contributors if they support well-meaning losers. For example, even though Ander Crenshaw has a 0 percent rating on gay and lesbian issues from the Human Rights Campaign, I have no chance for their backing. As their website states, "The organization does not make an endorsement in a situation where the candidate has no chance of getting elected but is supportive of HRC issues ... This serves to maintain the value of HRC's endorsement by not watering down the respected reputation of the organization by endorsing anyone regardless of his or her viability." Similarly, the Gay and Lesbian Victory Fund supports gay candidates who have a chance to win. They especially love endorsing people who are shoo-ins, because that makes their track record look better. Candidates seeking Victory Fund endorsement have to answer questions I couldn't answer in a million years, like these: "Describe your fundraising plan. How much have you raised to date and from what sources? How will you raise the rest of your budget? Include a breakout by categories such as major donors, individuals, PACs, corporations, direct mail, house parties, etc. How much cash do you have on hand?" "What consultants have been hired for media, polling and/or fundraising? Please describe their background, experience and extent of their relationship to your campaign." Jim Stork—bakery owner, former mayor, successful fundraiser—can answer these questions. He's got lots of support, and more importantly, a real chance to win in a competitive district and become Florida's first openly gay Democratic Congressman. (A semi-openly gay Republican currently represents the Palm Beach area.) So when my friends offer to write out a small check for my campaign, I tell them to instead give their money to a viable politician like Stork. "We just did," Alex says, pointing to the few crumbs left on their plates from the beef-and-raisin empanadas they had for lunch. - - - - Saturday, August 7 I check out the website of Citizens for a Sound Economy, former House Majority Leader Dick Armey's PAC, whose Freedom Survey I answered weeks ago. Since that time, Citizens for a Sound Economy has merged with Empower America to form FreedomWorks. I suppose this is the political equivalent of ExxonMobil, except that FreedomWorks won't be underwriting any shows on PBS. FreedomWorks has posted my responses to the survey. I am the only congressional candidate in Florida who has responded "No" to supporting all of the planks on their Freedom Agenda (flat tax, school vouchers, making Bush's tax cuts permanent). Actually, I'm the only one who has responded "No" to more than a couple of questions. Most of the responders are Republicans who said "Yes" to everything. But the other candidates in my district are listed as "Has not or refuses to respond." There is a space for reader comments. I post mine: "Richard Grayson of Davie, FL: 'As the Democratic candidate for the House in Florida's 4th Congressional District, I was happy to fill out this survey. Why have my Republican opponents, Deborah Katz Pueschel and Congressman Ander Crenshaw, refused to respond? Are they enemies of Dick Armey?'" I wonder how long they'll leave that up there. - - - - Wednesday, August 11 The hottest political issue for Jacksonville congressional candidates is apparently not the war or the economy but where to put a cemetery. Every day, the Florida Times-Union seems to have another story about how Rep. Crenshaw is fighting to have a new national veterans' cemetery placed near Jacksonville International Airport. Jacksonville's Democratic congresswoman, Corrine Brown, has joined Crenshaw in this battle against another Republican congressman, who wants the cemetery in his district south of Jacksonville. Just a few weeks ago, Brown reprised her bravura performance in Fahrenheit 9/11 and, on the House floor, charged that the GOP "stole" the 2000 presidential election by staging a "coup d'état." Crenshaw and other Republicans then voted to strike Brown's remarks from the record. But Brown and Crenshaw are united in making sure dead veterans get buried in their hometown rather than in points south. They argue that the Jacksonville site would be more convenient for dead people in nearby southern Georgia. This is the bread-and-butter stuff that members of Congress get elected on. All politics is yokel. After considering this grave issue, I also support burying veterans near the airport. People don't like to drive far to visit their deceased relatives. The Jacksonville site is much closer to the interstate. - - - - Thursday, August 19 I have gotten four identical e-mails from voters in the last couple of days. They each begin: Dear, As one of the American Heart Association's 22.5 million volunteers, I am concerned about the senseless deaths that continue to result from tobacco use. These voters go on to ask me to support legislation that will give the Food and Drug Administration the power to regulate tobacco. I answer every one of these letters, pledging to do just that. I try to reciprocate their affectionate salutation by addressing them variously as "Hon," "Sweetie," "Babe," and "Darling." - - - - Saturday, August 21 At its recent state-council meeting, the Florida National Organization for Women PAC made its endorsements of candidates. Their highest level of support is "endorsement plus PAC contribution." Second best is "endorsement." After that comes "support." That is for "a candidate who is good on all of our issues but won't take a leadership role, or is good only on most of our issues but has a problem with one or two." Florida NOW PAC did not endorse or support me. However, they did "recommend" me. That's a status reserved for "a candidate who is good on a few of our issues, but will not be a leader, or a candidate who is not very good on our issues but is significantly better than their opposition." I'm not sure which category they put me in. If Florida's feminists haven't embraced my campaign, they've sort of done what my great-aunts used to do when I was a kid: they've pinched me on the cheek. - - - - Tuesday, August 24 I was interviewed for two hours tonight at a nearby coffee bar by Trevor Aaronson, a reporter from Broward/Palm Beach New Times. Trevor is about 24. I had to explain to him who Bella Abzug, John Anderson, and Mario Vargas Llosa were. I've checked out Trevor's stories in Florida alternative weeklies. He manages to dig up dirt on most of the people he writes about. For example, Trevor's article on Jim Stork, the Democratic candidate for Congress from Fort Lauderdale, emphasized Stork's involvement in questionable business dealings and an alleged death threat he made to an ex-boyfriend. I wonder if those revelations have anything to do with Stork suspending his campaign, saying he was suffering from "fatigue." Of course, a good scandal could only jump-start my own faltering campaign. So I brought along a bunch of clippings and other material on myself, hoping this will help Trevor uncover my sleazy past. - - - - Wednesday, August 25 This afternoon, John Anderson came down to my cubicle at work. Trevor had left a message on John's voice mail, asking him to comment on my candidacy. Of course, John knew nothing about it, as I was too embarra |