You Can Lead a Politician to Water, But You Can't Make Him Think: Ten Commandments for Texas Politics
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So the good people of Texas weren't able to get the Kinkster into the Governor's Mansion in 2006. It was a solid race, and he fought the good fight. Getting on the ballot as an independent -- a feat that had not been achieved in over a century -- was a victory in itself. And with ideas like "slots for tots" (legalized gambling to pay for education), the five Mexican generals plan (bribes to enforce border protection), and a firm stand against the "wussification" of the state, he would have done a helluva job.
If that 2006 election was any indication -- and it was -- the political landscape in both Texas and the country at large needs a significant overhaul. The hucksters, the wealthy, and the twofaced rule; there is no room for Truth, and the little guys are quickly forgotten in all the muck. But Kinky, (briefly) down yet certainly not out, is still looking out for his fellow Americans, and he has much wisdom to impart.
In this hilarious, thought-provoking manifesto, Kinky lays forth his ten commandments for improving the state of Texas and politics everywhere, and for restoring order, logic, decency, and above all a sense of humor back to this country. It's classic Kinky in a brand new way. And he might just have a point.
Kinky Friedman
Kinky Friedman is an author, musician, defender of strays, cigar smoker, and the governor of the heart of Texas.
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Reviews for You Can Lead a Politician to Water, But You Can't Make Him Think
1 rating1 review
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Well, the Kinkster is always funny, so the books is sprinkled with his gems - some new and some we've heard before, in true Kinky style. The Kinkster and I are not on the same side of the political fence, but I would have voted for him for his unwavering pledge to always speak the truth - a very rare thing in politics indeed. He has a practical approach to politics, and should he be president, the US would probably sink into the dumps as an international nation, but gain enormously in morals - not to mention karma. No hypocrisy would be a fresh wind, but I am cynical enough to realize that his approach would not abide in the wide world. I do, however, think that as Governor of Texas, he would have make a change that would have had a great impact in the long run. Too bad that US politics (and life) is based on cash, not ideology. Unfortunately, the Kinkster belongs alongside Sir Thomas More and Plato, not George W. and his cronies.
Book preview
You Can Lead a Politician to Water, But You Can't Make Him Think - Kinky Friedman
A PREFACE
Well, folks, it was fun being the governor-in-waiting. By this writing, however, the votes have been cast and counted and the race has been run and I am still not the governor. I gave Texas my telephone number and she never got back to me. I admit to being a little disappointed but I’m not downhearted. Remember, the crowd picked Barabbas.
Now before you get started, let me just say that I’m not comparing myself to Jesus, nor am I comparing any particular politician to Barabbas. I’m merely pointing out that the crowd had a choice and their choice was to let Jesus die and to let Barabbas go. Now two thousand years have passed and we haven’t heard a hell of a lot from Barabbas. He doesn’t call, he doesn’t write, he hasn’t saved a single soul. On the other hand, Jesus has saved millions of people, and, if anyone can do it, he may just be our last best chance of saving the world, not to mention winning an ungodly number of football games. So you see, the crowd does not always make the best choice. It is possible to lose the election, but win the war. This is done with spirit and heart and guts and perseverance. I am now free at last, free to wander in the raw poetry of time. I will continue, nonetheless, to endeavor to be a dealer in hope, hope for a better, brighter future for Texas. And hope is what we need now more than ever. The way things are going, the only two choices we’ll soon have will be flour or corn.
I once said, I’ll sign anything but bad legislation.
This is still true; it’s just a little harder for me to stop the bad legislation that’s affecting all of our lives. With bad legislation and a pathetic lack of good leadership, Texas will always find herself following, never leading the American parade. That’s one reason I wrote this book; another is, I needed the bucks. Hey, Jewish cowboy speaks the truth. And the truth is, I love Texas and I hate what the politicians are doing to her.
How did I get into this mess in the first place? Read on, gentile reader, read on. For this is not simply a book about a campaign or even a spiritual quest. It is a search for that beautiful place that is above politics—a place, I believe, that can only be found if we look together.
We won the race every place but Texas! (Courtesy of The Weekly Standard)
AN INTRODUCTION: OLD TESTAMENTS AND NEW REVELATIONS
OAF OF OFFICE
As the only man who’s slept at the White House under two presidents, Bill Clinton and George W. Bush, it was probably only a matter of time before I jumped into politics myself. At the White House early in 2003, as I was advising Bush on Iraq, I thought I heard him mention putting me in charge of the National Park Service. It’s about time he appointed a real cowboy, I said to myself as I adjusted my fanny pack. I knew, of course, that this would not be a cabinet-level appointment. I would probably have a portfolio of some kind, a small staff of busy little bureaucrats to do all the work, and I’d no doubt carry the title of undersecretary. That was fine with me. I’d probably be spending most of my time under my secretary anyway.
As I left the East Wing, I became more and more certain that, if not exactly offering me a position, the president was subtly encouraging me to get back into politics. I’d been on hiatus since my unsuccessful campaign for justice of the peace in Kerrville in 1986, in which my slogan was If you elect me the first Jewish justice of the peace, I’ll reduce the speed limits to 54.95.
But that was then and this was now. So, I waited in the full-crouch position for a call from someone in the administration. When it didn’t come, I couldn’t decide whether to kill myself or get a haircut.
There must be a place in politics for a man of my talents, I thought. Dogcatcher might be a good place to start. I could free all the dogs and encourage them to lay some serious cable in the yards of people I didn’t like. Or maybe I could run for mayor of Austin. I could fight against the fascist anti-smoking laws. I probably couldn’t win without appealing to all the techno geeks, but a good slogan would help—something like A cigar in every mouth and a chip on every shoulder
might work. Basically, though, it’d be too small a gig for the Kinkster. I had bigger fish to fry. Well, I thought, what about governor of Texas? That might be therapeutic. It’s a notoriously easy gig, and I’d certainly be the most colorful candidate since Pappy O’Daniel. Hell, compared with most politicians, I’m practically Mr. Charismo. I can work a room better than anyone since the late John Tower went to that great caucus in the sky. When I meet a potential voter, I’m good for precisely three minutes of superficial charm. If I stay for five minutes, I can almost see the pity in the person’s eyes.
Nevertheless, being governor might be a lot of fun. I’ve known the last two and a half governors, and they didn’t seem to be working all that hard. Of course, I saw them mostly at social events. In fact, I once mistook Rick Perry for a wine steward at the Governor’s Mansion. I said, Hey, you look familiar. Do I know you?
And he said, Yeah. I’m the governor, Rick Perry.
Then he gave me a friendly handshake and looked at me like he was trying to establish eye contact with a unicorn. He didn’t seem as funny as Ann Richards or George W., but he came off like a pretty nice guy for an Aggie.
After some minor soul-searching, I decided to throw my ten-gallon yarmulke in the ring and form an exploratory committee headed by the dead Dutch explorer Sir Wilhelm Rumphumper. The committee had one meeting and came back with the consensus that, as long as Willie Nelson or Pat Green didn’t decide to run, I could be the next governor. They offered the opinion that many of Pat’s people were probably too young to vote and that Willie, God bless him, did not quite present as clean-cut an image as I did. Also, neither of them had had any previous experience in politics. Not only had I run for justice of the peace, but I’d also been chairman of the Gay Texans for Phil Gramm committee.
Though the report was encouraging, I had to admit that I was beginning to find the prospect of the governorship rather limiting. I aspired to inspire before I expired. There had to be something I could do for my country besides flying five American flags from my pickup truck and telling the guy with four American flags on his pickup truck to Go back to Afghanistan, you communist bastard!
But what of the president’s offer? To clear the boards for my race for governor, I asked my old Austin High pal Billy Gammon to check the status of my appointment. Billy’s so close to the