When I was a kid, if I’d heard that my grandmother was running for president, it would have made perfect sense.
She did, after all, know everything.
My parents were clueless and the rest of the family eventually came around to grandma’s way of thinking, the earlier the better.
Knowing this, it pains me to watch the 2016 Presidential Campaign, a campaign that, for all intents and purposes, should be a foregone conclusion, play out like it is what it actually is: at this point, still undecided.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why Hillary Clinton’s team of advisors haven’t instructed her to work the “grandma” angle heavy.
She is, in fact, actually a grandma.
Moreover it is this angle that would give her the best chance to win.
As it is, and to her detriment, she’s working the Master Politician angle. This fails because, as a man who should certainly know about the one if not the other, Woody Allen, one famously said about politicians, “You know the ethics those guys have! It’s like a notch underneath ‘child molester’.”
No right, forward thinking person or citizen has ever trusted a politician. But who doesn’t love their grandma?
And it’s probably in these peculiar times that America could most use a grandma.
Think about it; if you’re sick, your grandma takes care of you, if you’re broke, grandma’s got $20 in a card headed your way and if there’s a fight that can’t be avoided, grandma advises you to “kick him in the nuts!”
Who better to trust than grandma to square away healthcare, work on income and wage disparities, and fight the dirtiest in the event of war?
As shrewd a politician as Hillary Clinton genuinely is, it amazes me that she’s allowed what could be construed as her two greatest strengths, her age and her gender, be considered some sort of political deficits to be avoided in debates and as part of the overall commercialization of her campaign.
It would make far better sense to lead with them. Take away your opponents attack points by bringing them to the table yourself, sort of like Eminem did during the final rap battle in 8 Mile.
Speeches could go somewhere along the line of, “I may just be a little old lady, but even I know that the way to get rid of ISIS is not by attempting to ‘bomb them back to the Stone Age’, but to cut off their funding, sever their lines of communication and make it impossible for them to recruit. Any cult requires a constant steam of the newly indoctrinated and if we can portray ISIS as already being a thing of the past in the minds of all those young psychos, they’ll no longer be ‘cool’. Then if you wanna bomb them, bomb them with Tupac MP3s. All Eyez on Me happens to be a personal favorite…”
And while the testosterone-filled bombast of which ever male opponent she wound up facing would ring hollow from even the first few notes, Hillary could pull out the crochet hooks, start knitting, and maybe even hum a bit to herself.
Grandma for President!
And I want my cut when y’all print up the t-shirts.