As Campaign Season 2002 nears its climax, excitement is building to a fever pitch. I can’t recall being as jazzed about anything since they opened the new Oil Can Henry’s near our place.

But seriously now: Can you remember a campaign season that was as dull and lackluster as the one that will wrap up this November?

The candidates for Oregon governor and senator seem to be locked in a four-way contest to see who can come up with the most bland and boring TV commercials. Democratic Senate candidate Bill Bradbury is leading the snooze sweepstakes so far, but the race is still tight, and Gordon Smith, Kevin Mannix or Ted Kulongoski could easily pull it off in the final weeks.

This stifling blandness is not a phenomenon that appeared just this year, though. Remember the presidential “race” of two years ago? Remember the Battle of the Blands, aka the Bush-Gore debates, in which the “opponents” spent most of their time gushing about how much they agreed with each other?

There’s a reason why blandness is devouring our political life like some sinister fungus infection, and I know what it is. It’s “marketing.”

Politicians don’t campaign for office anymore – they’re marketed. They hire a slew of high-priced “marketing experts” who do a bunch of polls and hold lots of focus groups and come up with a “product” that the voters will want to “buy.”

Naturally, the most important attribute of the product/candidate is that it/he/she must not OFFEND anybody. Or, as they say in the politics marketing game, it/he/she must not have any “negatives.”

If the candidate has an idea that didn’t play well in focus groups with women over 55 who own Yorkshire terriers … POOF! Out it goes.

The inevitable result is an array of candidates with all the satisfying flavor and crunchiness of store-brand hot dog buns.

And the real tragedy is that all this is totally unnecessary.

I’m going to let you and any politicians who may be reading this in on a dirty little secret: The so-called “marketing experts” DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE DOING. They are completely bloody clueless.

How do I know? Because of the piece of spam that showed up in my e-mailbox the other day.

“Want to Make Your Love Life Sizzle?” the headline asked.

Well, sure, why not? I read on.

“Dear H. Bruce Miller,” it continued, “Are you too busy to have a relationship? Is your sex life more see-ya-later than sizzle? Do you wonder if you’ll ever meet Mr. Right … ”

Whoa. This was getting weird. I read on:

“Unless your entire life is absolutely perfect, you need Cosmopolitan. It’s the largest selling women’s magazine in the world, and you can try it now RISK-FREE.”

In Cosmo, the e-mail said, I would “discover new techniques to attract the man of (my) dreams – and keep him satisfied in bed and out.”

What’s more, if I acted NOW I could receive a FREE $100 Victoria’s Secret gift certificate.

“You could get a whole wardrobe of Miracle Bras or a couple of stretch lace micro-chemises (one in black, one in red, of course).”

Kind readers, let me assure you that as a general rule I do not parade around in Miracle Bras or stretch lace micro-chemises, regardless of color. (I admit that a few Halloweens ago I put on a blue dress and a wig to impersonate Linda Tripp, but, hey, that was show biz.)

This is truly pathetic, I thought after reading Cosmo’s e-mail pitch.

The magazine no doubt had paid a fortune to some fancy “marketing experts” who carefully studied the “demographics” and crafted an e-mail, which was then sent out to a carefully collated “database” of prospective subscribers, which database presumably was purchased at great expense from a purveyor of databases.

I bet the “marketing experts” knew everything about me – my name, my address, my zip code, my family income, the value of my house, the age of my dog …

Everything except the most important thing: namely, my sex.

So, candidates everywhere, take my advice: Ditch the marketing gurus. They’re a waste of time and money. You could get the same results a lot cheaper by hiring a gypsy to read tea leaves.

Just get out there, stand up on your hind legs and speak your mind loudly and clearly. Tell us what you really believe. Let us see you’re a person, not a “product.”

And if that doesn’t get our attention, try wearing a stretch lace micro-chemise.

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 26th, 2002 at 9:29 am and is filed under Bruce on the Loose. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.