Capitol Chronicle

Just when the campaign season is starting to get interesting, here come the gendarmes to throw cold water on the parade.

That was my reaction when the Combined Law Enforcement Associations of Texas called for a moratorium on all political advertising from Sept. 1 to Sept. 11, in memory of those who died in the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington last year. In the considered wisdom of C.L.E.A.T. Political Director Charley Wilkison, the candidates should "just shut up and give us some political quiet time in Texas."

In the first place, C.L.E.A.T.'s timing seemed simply arbitrary: 9-11 numerology aside, what exactly in the collective mind of C.L.E.A.T. has sanctified the first 11 days of September? Why not the second 11 days, or Sept. 7 to 21, or the whole month, or ...?

More importantly, why target only political ads? Compared to the sort of high-intensity, high-dollar drivel that relentlessly flogs beer, drugs, underwear, and luxury sedans, political advertising -- even the mud-slinging, finger-pointing, pig-squealing melodrama currently on display in the Texas gubernatorial race -- is positively benign. I would take C.L.E.A.T.'s moratorium request more seriously if it included all commercial advertising, which now violates the human sanctity of our every waking minute. That might really give us a little peace and quiet -- but it would also lose the ad agencies a bundle, and even set a precedent that could shake the foundations of the mercenary culture of the almighty dollar.

We can't have that.

On the other hand, there is the rather more sensible position articulated by Mike Higgins of the Texas Assoc. of Fire Fighters: "We just felt that even telling people to stay away from advertising was still being political with September 11."

In other words, don't take cheap advantage of a national tragedy by using it as a litmus test of patriotic purity.

---

A Few of Our Favorite Things

C.L.E.A.T.'s exhortation has thus far had only symbolic effect, as the Rick Perry and Tony Sanchez campaigns reacted like true cold warriors and mutually renounced "unilateral disarmament." They've gleefully gotten down to the business of serious name-calling, as Perry accused Sanchez of being in league with Mañuel Noriega and Sanchez charged Perry with being bought and paid for by the Insurance Companies (now there's a game of Pick Your Villain). With a couple of exceptions -- notably Lite Guv candidate David Dewhurst, who's been Mr. Ride 'Em Cowboy since spring -- most of the undercard boxers haven't even started running ads yet, so it was hard to take seriously their reaffirmations of virginity.

Even more entertaining was Wilkison's pure-dee Texas justification of the moratorium: "It would be a fantastic way to show the world that we're a little bit different here," he said. "They think it's all big hair and a bunch of dirty politics. Let's do something else." Wilkison was on a roll, and he just couldn't stop himself. "We're not canceling drinking beer. We're not canceling making love. We're not canceling baseball. We're not canceling anything important, just the stuff that doesn't matter and that's the trash on TV that we've been seeing from the political ads."

Fellow Texans, take a note: for the first 11 days of September, you can drink, screw, dip snuff, and steal home. But don't let C.L.E.A.T. catch you loitering in front of the TV, pondering the fate of the Republic.

---

The Fun House Mirror

On a lighter note, there is the little matter that neither of the major parties seem especially prepared to do anything specific about the major problems facing the state: an incoherent and broken tax system, underfinanced and inequitable schools, prisons full to bursting, an insurance system in exploding crisis ... well, you know the list. At the top of the ticket, Democrat Ron Kirk and Republican John Cornyn were last seen arguing over how quickly the U.S. government should try to depose Saddam Hussein and incidentally destroy Iraq, a project apparently conceived by our national leadership on the moral level of a combat video game.

As already noted, the gubernatorial campaign has descended to new depths, although it does seem evident that the relentless Sanchez ad blitz is having its intended effect -- otherwise the Perry campaign would not have seen the need to go hard negative quite this early. (By the way, an ad moratorium would more likely benefit Perry, who has reason to husband his $14 million kitty until October; Tycoon Tony used $20 mil just tromping Dan Morales, who also tried the "money laundering & drug dealing Hispanic" slur, to only ill effect.) It won't mean much before Labor Day (or this year, before Sept. 11), but when the dust clears from all this hot air, we may well have a real race on our hands. The dueling polls, for the governor's race as well as the Senate, are currently so contradictory that it's clear nobody yet has a handle on the numbers. And the guy who really needs to worry is Dewhurst, who despite his own fortune has yet to convince the major players he knows or cares anything about governance -- leaving Dem Lite Gov opponent John Sharp in the Cheshire Catbird seat, smiling sweetly upon the ticket he dreamed.

That's why for my money, except for the World Series itself, there's no better fall show than the Battle of the Bosses, otherwise known as the Texas political campaign. I can't imagine how anyone could believe that declaring a silence among these lambs would somehow improve the solemnity and tenor of the body politic: This is who we are, folks, for better and for worse. Inside the mirror, the scale may be bigger, noisier, more flamboyant, simultaneously more reckless and more self-protective -- but looking deeply within that reflection, we certainly should be able to recognize ourselves.