In four short days, all of this will be over. Those ubiquitous political signs will no longer ugly-up every fence, wall, and slow moving animal in our fine State. The snarky campaign ads (paid for without the express consent of any candidate) by vaguely named organizations will no longer clutter the TV landscape. Most importantly, those sign wavers will take their “wave-point-shaka-repeat” routines off our city’s busiest medians and intersections.
I’ve seen all sorts of sign waving folks this political season, ranging from the hyper-enthusiastic to the uber-apathetic. There was the multi-tasker who texted with one hand, steadied the sign with his elbow, and half-assed waved with his other hand. Never once did he look up. There was the guy who didn’t actually wear the candidate’s requisite white T-shirt. No, he simply draped the shirt over his torso signifying either his fear of commitment to the candidate or his rebellion against this sign waving punishment. Then there was the cute, elderly Asian couple who stood at one of the busiest intersections in Kaneohe every morning and evening, rain or shine. I surmised they were doing this for their grandson, the candidate who proudly proclaimed his Japanese middle name and Filipino surname on every one of his signs. His strategy? Target your racial demographics and then let Baachan and Jiisan do the grunt work.
Amid all the posturing and prognosticating, the best political commentary I ever heard came from my son Alex a few years ago. We were driving past a large banner touting a Republican candidate, when my then-five year old said to me, “Look Mommy! Jerry Coffee is rated R!" Indeed, politics in this town is sometimes for mature audiences only.
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