My past week has mainly consisted of me stumbling out of bed in the morning, loading the Texas Secretary of State’s website and telling people how many of us voted the day before. Then I head out to shove my microphone in voters’ faces to ask how they feel.
But what are any of us supposed to do if influencers don’t try to influence us?! Your social media profile is aflame with #Breaking #ICYMI #EtCetera news the Washington Post isn’t endorsing anyone in the election, causing media outlets to react to other media outlets.
“Scaia, you silver tongued Adonis,” you’re shouting at your screen. “Sure, you work in a vibrant field, but newspapers haven’t influenced anyone in years.”
We may feel divided as a country. We may feel like society has become a constantly updating comments section. But #ScaiaBlog is about unity [I also don’t allow comments because most of them are either spam or a woman who just really wants to get the word out about her naked pictures and also a great business opportunity].
One thing that can bring us all together in a bipartisan fashion is our exhaustion with political photo ops. Public relations hacks may insist on very carefully orchestrated events and then shake their heads in dismay when people don’t react exactly as they want.
We’ve now reached the point in our society where McDonald’s has to say it cannot confirm or disconfirm whether Kamala Harris ever worked there. So Donald Trump set up for a photo op.
On the flip side, Harris needed to look studious after Hurricane Helene.
So, of course, both sides start demonizing the other because politicians have never done things just to get their picture taken ever before.
Back in the day, George HW Bush and Bill Clinton would raise money together after natural disasters. After Hurricane Ike in 2008, I was on Galveston Island where they talked to reporters on the beach. I’m sure that was because they figured that was the best place to work out logistics, not because it provided a heart-rending background. You can see me on the left side of that picture appearing to focus my camera on what has been, in my defense, a very newsworthy midsection.
Maybe Kamala Harris wasn’t actually talking to anyone. Maybe Donald Trump doesn’t actually know how to cook French fries. We can’t all be Steak n Shake Masters of the Grill, which is still listed as an accomplishment on my homepage even though I’m increasingly certain, since you can just buy a patch online, it was not quite as substantial an accomplishment as I initially believed.
We may have reached a point where breathless newspaper endorsements don’t mean as much. No one cares what members of the media think about the issues. But if you’d like to have a microphone shoved in your face, head to your local polling location tomorrow, furrow your brow, and a reporter will be by in minutes to ask how you feel.
