Tag Archives: Mayor

Why I’m running for Mayor of New York City

Citizens of New York. It’s with great pride that I announce my candidacy for Mayor. Of New York. New York City. I know I’ve talked about this before, but this time I’m serious. I’m as of right now, officially in the race. Almost. I need a campaign team. Somebody who’s good with election stuff. Like rules, and how to get on the ballot. You can’t just say, “I’m running for Mayor,” and then it just shows up. No, you’ve got to do forms and stuff. Right?

I guess you could win as write-in candidate, and that way we won’t have to bother with any forms at all. I’ll leave it to my chief-of-staff. As soon as I hire a chief-of-staff. And then I’ll have that person hire the rest of the team. So I really just need a solid chief-of-staff. Ooh, and a t-shirt guy. I don’t want boring campaign t-shirts. I want like, really cool shirts, like something funny maybe, not funny in-your-face funny, but like clever funny.

I know it’s an already crowded field, but I plan on using that to my advantage. I’m going to stand back and watch them all pummel each other trying to get their party’s nomination. Then it’ll just be a Republican, a Democrat, and then me. My last name starts with G., right in the middle of the alphabet. Well, near the middle. It’s definitely closer than F, much closer than B. So I’m counting on the statistics working in my favor, making my name smack in the middle of the ballot.

It’ll be eye level. And as New Yorkers head to the polls, they’ll be like, “Man, I’m so sick of these two bozos, the same old machine party politics. If only there were an alternative!” and just as the voter thinks this thought, they’ll look up, like I said, Rob G., independent, right in the middle.

And that voter might think, “Well, I’ve never heard of this Rob G. before.” That’s what they’ll think anyway. But they won’t even realize that they’re already wearing my campaign t-shirt. (Note to self: find t-shirt guy. Ask about bulk discounts.) Because the design is going to be so subtle, so hip, it’s going to transcend your regular sending-a-message t-shirt. No, it’s going to be like a joke, but with so many layers, and hidden layers, and it’s all going to be based off of an inside joke that only a couple of people know about, and so one day that couple of people will be wearing them out, laughing to themselves about the joke, everyone else will get so jealous, so they’ll start wearing the shirts also. And then it’ll get bigger and bigger until, “Congratulations Mayor Rob G.” is the headline of every single New York City newspaper. Hell, maybe some other city’s papers will run it too. I don’t know, like Baltimore, or Cleveland.

And then I’ll pull a reverse Bloomberg. After winning as an independent, I’ll announce that I’m actually going to align myself with a party. “Which one will it be? Democrat? Republican?” That’ll also be the headline on every NYC paper. And then I’ll write my own op-ed, and the headline for that will be, “Which one of you political parties wants it more?” And I’ll stand back and watch them as they both clamor for my allegiance.

There’s going to be a lot of fake outs. Like one day I might pay a visit to the local Democratic Party offices. The press will get a few shots, anonymous sources might start leaking tips. But really I’ll just be making waves. I’ll go inside and be like, “Do you guys mind if I use your bathroom?” just nonsensical type visits. Or maybe I’ll start wearing solid red ties, every single day. And the newspaper analyst will be like, “Well you see, he’s definitely sending a message here. This is a politically-charged fashion statement.” But as soon as that story gets big, I’ll switch up the ties, like solid green, or half-red half-blue, or maybe a novelty tie, something your high school art teacher might wear, something weird, like ketchup and mustard bottles, I don’t know.

Maybe I’ll never pick a side. I’ll just keep teasing the idea, like, “Soon, I’m still thinking, I’m definitely going to pick a side soon.” And then on the last day of my third term I’ll call a huge press conference, and I’ll say, “Fellow New Yorkers. I think I’m going to stay an independent. Thank you for your support as I’ve explored and considered all sides of the political spectrum.” Maybe. That’s just one possibility. Maybe I’ll make my own political party.

Anyway, let’s do this New York. Like I said, I really need a campaign team. College students? What about an (unpaid) internship? Huh? You like filling out papers? Do you? You want to come work at City Hall (still as an intern?) Come on, vote for me and I’ll get Lin back on the Knicks. Vote for me and I’ll double the size of all sodas. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. Let’s do it. Vote for me.

The Key to America

Seriously, I should be the mayor. It just seems like so much work, putting together a campaign team, forming an inner circle amongst the campaign team, ejecting a few members of my inner circle for insubordination, and then eventually firing my whole staff and starting from scratch with a brand new campaign team. But I should totally do it. I’m born to lead. People have told me that. They’ve said, “Rob, you’re born to lead, bro.”

Mayor is perfect. It’s just enough responsibility where everyone in the city will know who I am, but at the end of the day, cities kind of run themselves, and so if anything goes terribly wrong, I can just throw up my hands in shock, claim ignorance, and step aside to let someone else take a crack at it. Why would anyone want to be President when they could just as easily be mayor? If the President starts acting all corrupt, the news media is always right there to point the finger and investigate. But the mayor is almost expected to be corrupt. Just say “City Hall” out loud to yourself and I’ll bet you’re automatically just a little bit queasier than you were before you said it.

Mayor is the one job that I feel like I’m naturally perfect for. I’m already the best at everything that the mayor does. Whenever there is an injustice that’s really nobody’s fault, like if somebody trips and falls, or if somebody sees a rat run past a restaurant, I’m usually the first person on the scene getting in everyone’s faces and pointing out the injustice and bringing a lot of attention to what just happened. And if there is ever an injustice that’s clearly somebody’s fault, I’m an expert at making up a million reasons why it’s actually nobody’s fault. Plus, you’ve never seen somebody christen a dry-cleaning place by cutting a giant ribbon with an oversized pair of scissors until you’ve seen me do it.

One of the job’s most alluring aspects, to me, is the ability to bestow upon anybody the Key to the City. Every knows about the Key to the City, but the process of making it, of figuring out how to get it to unlock every door in town, and actually picking somebody worthy of receiving it is a closely-guarded municipal secret. Try calling up any public official and asking him or her about how you might go about earning a Key to the City and you’ll find yourself brushed off. After repeated calls, you’ll find your phone being automatically transferred to a seemingly indefinite hold, without anybody even asking what you’re calling for in the first place. So then you’ll head over to City Hall and try to talk to somebody face-to-face, but when you ask who’s in charge of the Keys to the City, you’re told repeatedly to go away. Go ahead, bang your fists down on as many government desks as you want. I’m telling you it’s a dead end.

As mayor, I would promise to make the Key to the City award system much more transparent. That would be the sole issue that my campaign would be built upon. I’d hand out novelty replica Keys at all of my campaign rallies. During my debate with the incumbent mayor, I’d throw in all sort of cool key-related catch phrases, like, “Mr. Mayor, we’re all really keyed up about this issue!” to huge rounds of applause. At my inauguration as mayor, I’d make a grand speech, telling everyone how, “now we’ve got someone in charge who understand the key problems facing this city!”

That’s what I would tell everyone. But I’d secretly use my power over the Keys to the City for my own personal advantage. After I made such a big deal about the Key to the City during my campaign, people might get a little confused when I stop awarding the Keys all together. If people protest, I’ll just tell them that the system was so corrupt, that I’ve had to scrap the entire program, to be rebuilt entirely from scratch, from the ground up. And I think that might satisfy the minds of most voters.

But I wouldn’t have scrapped anything. Not really. The Keys to the City will still be made, but I’ll award them all to myself, in secret yet still elaborate Key ceremonies. Once I’ve collected enough Keys, I’ll start touring other cities, pointing my finger at all of the other mayors, claiming that their Key to the City systems are some of the most corrupt in the country. But I won’t actually do it, I’ll just threaten to do it. I’ll meet all of the other mayors and I’ll show them all of my Keys and they’ll know that I mean business. If they don’t want to get run out of office, they had better award me a Key to their city also.

And they’ll back down immediately. So week after week, some other loser mayor from some other rinky-dink town will fly me in to receive their Key. They’ll say, “We’re awarding this Key to the mayor who ushered in the reforms necessary to keep the Key ceremony alive in the 21st century!” And I’ll act all humble and grateful, but while I’m collecting one Key, I’ll have my political cronies already strong-arming the next mayor.

Finally, I’ll have all of the Keys to every city in America. And I’ll take them all and put them on a giant Key ring and I’ll bring them to the White House, where I’ll demand that the President give me the Key to America. “You have to!” I’ll say, “I’ve collected every Key to every city!” and the President will respond, “How could you have? How did you know about the Key to America? Nobody knows about that!” and I’ll say, “Aha! I knew it! I didn’t actually know about the Key to America, I had just imagined it. But I said it to you like I knew what I was talking about, and you just confirmed it! So hand it over!”

And the President will be honor bound by to hand it over. And I’ll be able to unlock every single door in America. What’s that you hear? Is someone in the house? Yeah, it’s me. And yeah, I know perfectly well what time it is. Don’t worry, I’m just making myself a roast beef sandwich. Chill out, there’s nothing you can do about it. Just be lucky that I’m not a huge dick looking to rob this place blind, because I could. That’s how this works.