Yes. It’s Christmas in the Riv. It’s time to stand in line for your free turkey, and hang a tiny mayor from your Christmas tree.
Christmas is gonna end, though. It always does, and, in the coming months, we’re likely to endure not one, but two mayoral elections, and, if Jailhouse Jasiel Correia, he of the 13 indictments, happens to lose, we’re gonna get a new mayor.
You wanna run? Go ahead. There’s no doubt the upcoming elections will bring out a collection of the hopeless and the hapless, recycled politicians who’ve been dreaming of this moment since they were banging a gavel in their crib and, of course, a collection of near-illiterates who raise no money, hold no events and believe in everything from libertarianism to the gold standard.
There’s a depressing possibility that, despite the inexplicably large salary, the position of mayor of the “We’ll Try” city no longer attracts solid candidates, but can attract only hustlers, cheap lawyers, grifters and ego-inflation artists.
If you want to be our new mayor, here’s a list of things you oughta be if you want to convince people that you’re not a second-rate sneak thief with a suspicious resume.
First, I’d recommend you be over 50. Youth has not served us well. Finally, having not gotten it, ever, we may be tired of calling for “change.”
Secondly, don’t be the kind of candidate who promises to “think outside the box.” Be the kind of candidate who promises to fix potholes, and then be the kind of mayor who fixes potholes.
If you own a business, make sure it’s been in business for a few years, say at least five years.
Also, if you own a business, it should be located in a building with a sign out front. People should be able to go and physically touch your business. I recommend your business be located in a brick building. Brick looks solid.
And, if you own a business, or you work somewhere, make sure you’re in the kind of business people can understand. Law. Real Estate. Maybe an insurance company. It’s OK if you’re retired, too.
Own a house, fahgawdssakes! I’m sick and tired of having my taxes raised by people who never have to write an actual, by God check, for property taxes or water. If you do own a house, make sure all your taxes and loan payments are up-to-date before you run.
Be married. I know. That sounds like I’m discriminating against single people, and I am. Be married for at least 20 years, too. Your husband or wife should be around 25 pounds overweight, and should be seen with you at all public events, but shouldn’t talk too much. Nobody likes a candidate with a chatty husband.
Dress like an accountant. Wear lots of dark blue. Your clothes shouldn’t be too bright, too tight or too new. Don’t wear tricky shoes. Wingtips are best, or a pump with a low heel if you’re female.
Have kids. Have grandchildren if you’re old enough. Not only does this make you look solid, but it gives you the right to say stuff like, “I want my grandchildren to grow up in a safe, clean and prosperous Fall River.” All your children and grandchildren should be Durfee High graduates, or be students at Durfee. Diman is fine, too, but Catholic school smells like privilege.
Drive a sedan. A four-door sedan. A four-door, made in America sedan. If it’s not dark blue, it should be white, maybe gray.
Be a veteran. Peacetime. Wartime. Marines. Coast Guard. National Guard. Doesn’t matter.
Own a pet. It humanizes you, and it makes for great photo opportunities of you walking in the Christmas Parade with your dog. Don’t own anything too exotic, either. No snakes, tarantulas, or lizards. Get a dog or a cat.
Lastly, don’t steal anything.