Right now, I’m so happy I could eat a giant pile of grass.
Unlike our beloved Mad Hatter, my joy has nothing to do with Saturday’s win against Alabama.
No, the source of my jubilance comes from a much more pessimistic place, a dark area of my existence I only exercise once a week, right here in this very column: political cynicism.
That’s right, voters and fellow non-voters — election season is over, and for me, it’s like Christmas has come early. I hate election season. It brings out the worst in people, and this year’s campaigning — particularly between Charlie Melancon and David Vitter — was as dirty as ever.
The smear tactics used by both sides were embarrassing enough, from Melancon’s recalling of Vitter’s sexual exploits of three years ago to Vitter’s racially charged immigration campaign, the hilarious tragedy of which cannot be expressed in words and warrants immediate searching on YouTube.
The most embarrassing fact to consider, however, is how these ads were paid for — private contribution.
In the state’s most important election, the candidates raised a combined $15.7 million, with Vitter chipping in a whopping $12 million himself, according to The Advocate.
Ruminate on that fact for me. A guy who admittedly spent public time and money with hookers while he was representing his state in Congress raised $12 million to put out trashy campaign ads during halftime of New Orleans Saints’ games.
Meanwhile, Melancon, who apparently has the political wherewithal of a lapdog, wasted $3.7 million on a smear campaign when the only issue in voters’ minds was ideology.
Welcome to Louisiana, folks, home of the most expensive state per capita for highly contested statewide offices, according to long-time state political columnist and analyst Jim Brown. This problem exists because there are no real limits on campaign funding in the state. Sure, there are laws, but they have more loopholes than Cayman Island tax regulations.
Much of the funding for these elections comes from out of the state. Consider Mary Landrieu’s re-election campaign in 2008, in which she raised about $5 million, or 53 percent of her campaign funds, from across the country.
Vitter, too, spent much of his time soliciting funds across the country, including more than $30,000 from a dry cleaning corporation in California who hoped to receive stimulus money from Vitter in return.
Of course, Vitter knows all about soliciting funds. He has learned from the best whores in D.C.
Just venture on over to the Federal Election Commission website to have a look for yourself at the contributions to Vitter, or any Louisiana politician up for election recently, for that matter.
The overwhelming majority of them come from political action committees (PACs) based in Washington, D.C., or individuals from across the country who are not from anywhere near Louisiana. I wish I were telling you something you already knew. I’m afraid, however, that the majority of voters have no idea how these elections are won.
You have no control over the winner. Your vote means nothing against the millions of dollars Washington and its affiliates throw at the chosen candidates.
The worst part is no one seems to care. The “Fair Elections Now Louisiana” Facebook page, supporting a bill that “would allow federal candidates to choose to run for office without relying on large contributions, big money bundlers, or donations from lobbyist,” has only 43 likes.
Compare that to pages like “Hot Dogs” (33,220 likes), “How does Ke$ha only brush her teeth with Jack and not get cavities!?” (951 likes) or “Why do women need umbrellas, it doesn’t rain in the kitchen” (1,448).
While the first is underrated and the latter two are obviously important cultural questions, it remains that political funding is an issue that threatens the very principles of democracy — and no one cares.
But as budget cuts bring the University to the face of severe financial trauma, numbers like $15.7 million become significant. Imagine those kinds of donations to the University, a multi-million dollar generating research hub, instead of in the hands of pillaging politicians.
The very thought leaves me with an awful taste in my mouth — and there’s not enough grass in Tiger Stadium to wash it out.
Cody Worsham is a 21-year-old mass communication senior from Baton Rouge. Follow him on Twitter @TDR_Cworsham.
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Contact Cody Worsham at [email protected]