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Can A Writer Be A Governor? - By Michael Stillman Texas Gubernatorial candidate author Kinky Friedman, with trademark black hat and cigar. By Michael Stillman If an actor, or even a professional wrestler, can become a governor, why can't an author? Move over, Arnold. Move over, Jesse. Here comes Kinky Friedman, best-selling mystery writer, among other things. With something like 18 books to his credit, including New York Times' bestsellers such as Roadkill, most of America knows Kinky as a writer. Right now, you can find 3,647 copies of his books for sale on Abebooks. However, in his home state of Texas, this is a later incarnation. In Texas, where country music trumps pieces of paper with lots of words on them, Kinky is a musician. Odd by traditional country standards, he is a country singer nonetheless. And now he wants to be governor. Kinky Friedman swept onto the Texas musical scene in the early 1970s. It was the era of the "outlaws," a group of country musicians who challenged the rhinestone cowboys of Nashville and Grand Old Opry fame, musicians whose "country" image was molded in recording studio boardrooms of the big cities hundreds of miles away. The best known of those outlaws today are Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings, but Texas was filled with these groundbreaking musicians in the '70s. Kinky was one of them, albeit not a typical outlaw. He was always more comedian than plain musician, and his unusual musical style and ethnic heritage made him an oddball. Nevertheless, Kinky Friedman and his Texas Jewboys were a Texas icon in the 1970s outlaw and Austin scenes. He may have been strange, but Texas appreciated its unique characters, people who proudly displayed their Texas individuality. In those days, Kinky was known for songs such as "Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in the Bed," "They Ain't Makin' Jews Like Jesus Anymore," and "@sshole from El Paso." The latter was a take-off on Merle Haggard's popular "Okie from Muscogee." If nothing, Kinky was never politically correct. But that was a long time ago. Texas began to change in the 80's. It became more the Texas of the smash TV hit series "Dallas," than of its cowboy outlaws. Most of the outlaw musicians were driven deeper underground, ignored by the mainstream. Kinky continued to sing, but he also began to write. In time he would become the Kinky Friedman most know today, a slightly eccentric mystery writer, successor to Shakespeare more than Mozart. In 49 states, Kinky Friedman is primarily an author. In Texas, he is still Kinky the Outlaw. I got to see Kinky Friedman in Dallas a few weeks ago. He wasn't singing; wasn't talking about books. He was speaking in front of a hundred or two hundred students at the University of Texas at Dallas. His main purpose was to gather signatures for his gubernatorial petition. Kinky is not running as a Democrat or Republican. He is, as always, an independent thinker. However, it is not easy for an independent to get on the ballot in Texas. The candidate must gather reams of signatures from people who did not vote in the last primary. The candidate points to the difficulty of the process by noting that the last independent to be elected Governor of Texas was a man named Sam Houston. Historians will recall that was a long time ago. And then, poor Sam was driven from public office for his opposition to secession at the outbreak of the Civil War.
Can A Writer Be A Governor? - By Michael Stillman none Kinky still looks like Kinky. He wears his trademark black hat, black clothes, and still has a cigar stuffed in his mouth. Of course he can't smoke it now, at least not inside a university auditorium. So he kind of chews on it and fiddles with it. If he were allowed to smoke, he would, though it would offend many voters, but it is his willingness to offend that makes him sort of a feasible candidate. Kinky is his own man, and in an era when most politicians seem to be essentially bought and sold by some special interest or other, he at least brings some integrity to this avocation. If some of his ideas seem strange, they are at least his ideas, not those of someone who paid him a lot of money. Are politicians controlled by money? We'll let you decide, but Kinky is fond of pointing out that in the last Texas governor's race, the major parties spent $100 million to win a job that pays $100,000 a year. Why did they do that? Kinky's platform, oddly enough, is based on common sense. Texas is mired in an education crisis, attempting to come up with desperately needed funds. Kinky's platform is simple: casino gambling. This may run afoul of some of Texas' more conservative values, but the candidate points out that Texans are either crossing state borders, or gambling illegally anyway, so why not take advantage of this reality to solve the state's major financial crisis? Kinky wants to see Texas, so long the nation's oil capital, lead the way in renewable energy. He promises to put fellow country singer Willie Nelson in charge of this program. Nelson is a major supporter of alternate fuels, and his "Bio-Willie" biodiesel gas stations are already dotted across the Texas landscape. Of course, he notes that appointing Willie Nelson to this office may cause some problems for his drug enforcement image, the country singer also being known for supposed use of alternate substances as well as alternate fuels. Beyond this, the candidate is sort of short on specifics, but wants to see better healthcare, drug treatment, schools, and the like. He does not come across as the most knowledgeable candidate on the details of the issues, but he does come across as the candidate with the greatest real concern for the people and the state, rather than some special interest. He probably has at least one thing in his bag to offend everyone, and he wouldn't be Kinky if he didn't, but you do walk away from his speech feeling he is honest, and that is refreshing in the world of politics. In defending his limited experience, Kinky points out that politics is the one occupation where people get worse as they get more experienced. Constantly running for reelection saps the good intentions they had when first entering the field. Besides which, he says he will appoint the best people to government jobs, not people with the most influence or money, so there is no need for him to know everything.
Can A Writer Be A Governor? - By Michael Stillman none Here is what is really scary about Kinky's candidacy: he is running as the commonsense candidate. Think about that one. Here is a man dressed in black, with a big cowboy hat, boots and unlit cigar, writer of some of the more offensive sounding musical titles imaginable, an outlaw and an oddball, and author of strange fictional characters, offending people for almost four decades. He patterns his campaign on former professional wrestler Jesse Ventura's campaign in Minnesota, a candidacy even stranger than his own. And yet this odd and eccentric man is the candidate of common sense. What does it say about the current state of our politics when a man who has spent a lifetime being weird is the candidate who displays the most common sense? Can he win? Not likely. The Republican governor is a heavy favorite for reelection. No one wins statewide office in Texas any more without an "R" after their name. In another era, this iconoclastic, individualistic Texan might have had a strong appeal. This is not your father's Texas. This is Tom DeLay's Texas. Where rugged individualism was once the order of the day, rugged conformism is the call of today. Yesterday's cowboys are today's sheep. Conformity to acceptable "conservative" beliefs is the overriding value. Don't be different. Texas' colorless governor, with Hollywood attractive hair and an Ivy League countenance, is more the image of the Lone Star State today than some guy with boots and a cowboy hat. Kinky is a relic, the image of what used to be, what Texas puts on its travel brochures and uses in its advertisements, not what Texans choose for leaders. Texas has a legislature handpicked by Tom DeLay and his money, and if you want to see the personification of 21st century Texas, look at his picture, not Kinky's. The old cowboy singer hopes a divided race will enable him to succeed. This race not only has two major party candidates, but another strong independent as well (the State Controller and mother of recent presidential spokesperson Scott McClellan). Like Jesse Ventura, Kinky Friedman hopes this split will enable him to sneak in. Perhaps, but I don't think this will happen unless there is a major change of heart among Texans, a return to those independent roots of the cowboy days. Anything is possible, but not everything is likely. Governor Kinky is not likely, but it would be an amazing sight to behold, a trip down Texas' long-forgotten memory lane. He wants to make us all proud to be @ssholes from El Paso, or wherever it is in Texas we come from.

Can A Writer Be A Governor?

- By Michael Stillman

Texas Gubernatorial candidate author Kinky Friedman, with trademark black hat and cigar.

By Michael Stillman

If an actor, or even a professional wrestler, can become a governor, why can't an author? Move over, Arnold. Move over, Jesse. Here comes Kinky Friedman, best-selling mystery writer, among other things. With something like 18 books to his credit, including New York Times' bestsellers such as Roadkill, most of America knows Kinky as a writer. Right now, you can find 3,647 copies of his books for sale on Abebooks. However, in his home state of Texas, this is a later incarnation. In Texas, where country music trumps pieces of paper with lots of words on them, Kinky is a musician. Odd by traditional country standards, he is a country singer nonetheless. And now he wants to be governor.

Kinky Friedman swept onto the Texas musical scene in the early 1970s. It was the era of the "outlaws," a group of country musicians who challenged the rhinestone cowboys of Nashville and Grand Old Opry fame, musicians whose "country" image was molded in recording studio boardrooms of the big cities hundreds of miles away. The best known of those outlaws today are Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings, but Texas was filled with these groundbreaking musicians in the '70s. Kinky was one of them, albeit not a typical outlaw. He was always more comedian than plain musician, and his unusual musical style and ethnic heritage made him an oddball. Nevertheless, Kinky Friedman and his Texas Jewboys were a Texas icon in the 1970s outlaw and Austin scenes. He may have been strange, but Texas appreciated its unique characters, people who proudly displayed their Texas individuality.

In those days, Kinky was known for songs such as "Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in the Bed," "They Ain't Makin' Jews Like Jesus Anymore," and "@sshole from El Paso." The latter was a take-off on Merle Haggard's popular "Okie from Muscogee." If nothing, Kinky was never politically correct. But that was a long time ago. Texas began to change in the 80's. It became more the Texas of the smash TV hit series "Dallas," than of its cowboy outlaws. Most of the outlaw musicians were driven deeper underground, ignored by the mainstream. Kinky continued to sing, but he also began to write. In time he would become the Kinky Friedman most know today, a slightly eccentric mystery writer, successor to Shakespeare more than Mozart. In 49 states, Kinky Friedman is primarily an author. In Texas, he is still Kinky the Outlaw.

I got to see Kinky Friedman in Dallas a few weeks ago. He wasn't singing; wasn't talking about books. He was speaking in front of a hundred or two hundred students at the University of Texas at Dallas. His main purpose was to gather signatures for his gubernatorial petition. Kinky is not running as a Democrat or Republican. He is, as always, an independent thinker. However, it is not easy for an independent to get on the ballot in Texas. The candidate must gather reams of signatures from people who did not vote in the last primary. The candidate points to the difficulty of the process by noting that the last independent to be elected Governor of Texas was a man named Sam Houston. Historians will recall that was a long time ago. And then, poor Sam was driven from public office for his opposition to secession at the outbreak of the Civil War.

Can A Writer Be A Governor?

- By Michael Stillman

none

Kinky still looks like Kinky. He wears his trademark black hat, black clothes, and still has a cigar stuffed in his mouth. Of course he can't smoke it now, at least not inside a university auditorium. So he kind of chews on it and fiddles with it. If he were allowed to smoke, he would, though it would offend many voters, but it is his willingness to offend that makes him sort of a feasible candidate. Kinky is his own man, and in an era when most politicians seem to be essentially bought and sold by some special interest or other, he at least brings some integrity to this avocation. If some of his ideas seem strange, they are at least his ideas, not those of someone who paid him a lot of money.

Are politicians controlled by money? We'll let you decide, but Kinky is fond of pointing out that in the last Texas governor's race, the major parties spent $100 million to win a job that pays $100,000 a year. Why did they do that?

Kinky's platform, oddly enough, is based on common sense. Texas is mired in an education crisis, attempting to come up with desperately needed funds. Kinky's platform is simple: casino gambling. This may run afoul of some of Texas' more conservative values, but the candidate points out that Texans are either crossing state borders, or gambling illegally anyway, so why not take advantage of this reality to solve the state's major financial crisis?

Kinky wants to see Texas, so long the nation's oil capital, lead the way in renewable energy. He promises to put fellow country singer Willie Nelson in charge of this program. Nelson is a major supporter of alternate fuels, and his "Bio-Willie" biodiesel gas stations are already dotted across the Texas landscape. Of course, he notes that appointing Willie Nelson to this office may cause some problems for his drug enforcement image, the country singer also being known for supposed use of alternate substances as well as alternate fuels.

Beyond this, the candidate is sort of short on specifics, but wants to see better healthcare, drug treatment, schools, and the like. He does not come across as the most knowledgeable candidate on the details of the issues, but he does come across as the candidate with the greatest real concern for the people and the state, rather than some special interest. He probably has at least one thing in his bag to offend everyone, and he wouldn't be Kinky if he didn't, but you do walk away from his speech feeling he is honest, and that is refreshing in the world of politics. In defending his limited experience, Kinky points out that politics is the one occupation where people get worse as they get more experienced. Constantly running for reelection saps the good intentions they had when first entering the field. Besides which, he says he will appoint the best people to government jobs, not people with the most influence or money, so there is no need for him to know everything.

Can A Writer Be A Governor?

- By Michael Stillman

none

Here is what is really scary about Kinky's candidacy: he is running as the commonsense candidate. Think about that one. Here is a man dressed in black, with a big cowboy hat, boots and unlit cigar, writer of some of the more offensive sounding musical titles imaginable, an outlaw and an oddball, and author of strange fictional characters, offending people for almost four decades. He patterns his campaign on former professional wrestler Jesse Ventura's campaign in Minnesota, a candidacy even stranger than his own. And yet this odd and eccentric man is the candidate of common sense. What does it say about the current state of our politics when a man who has spent a lifetime being weird is the candidate who displays the most common sense?

Can he win? Not likely. The Republican governor is a heavy favorite for reelection. No one wins statewide office in Texas any more without an "R" after their name. In another era, this iconoclastic, individualistic Texan might have had a strong appeal. This is not your father's Texas. This is Tom DeLay's Texas. Where rugged individualism was once the order of the day, rugged conformism is the call of today. Yesterday's cowboys are today's sheep. Conformity to acceptable "conservative" beliefs is the overriding value. Don't be different. Texas' colorless governor, with Hollywood attractive hair and an Ivy League countenance, is more the image of the Lone Star State today than some guy with boots and a cowboy hat. Kinky is a relic, the image of what used to be, what Texas puts on its travel brochures and uses in its advertisements, not what Texans choose for leaders. Texas has a legislature handpicked by Tom DeLay and his money, and if you want to see the personification of 21st century Texas, look at his picture, not Kinky's.

The old cowboy singer hopes a divided race will enable him to succeed. This race not only has two major party candidates, but another strong independent as well (the State Controller and mother of recent presidential spokesperson Scott McClellan). Like Jesse Ventura, Kinky Friedman hopes this split will enable him to sneak in. Perhaps, but I don't think this will happen unless there is a major change of heart among Texans, a return to those independent roots of the cowboy days. Anything is possible, but not everything is likely. Governor Kinky is not likely, but it would be an amazing sight to behold, a trip down Texas' long-forgotten memory lane. He wants to make us all proud to be @ssholes from El Paso, or wherever it is in Texas we come from.