Shortly after I started this blog, I wrote a post titled
Cantwell? Can't tell. It was about a chance encounter with 118th District Assembly candidate Bobby Cantwell. While I joked about having to sit across from a Republican at a community dinner and how it made me lose my appetite, I was really impressed with him--but I hadn't decided if I wanted to give up my sacred Lefty vote for him just yet... I had yet to meet his Democrat rival.
In that post, I observed: "He was pleasant, forthcoming, grounded in this area, and sincere—oh, and handsome. He did have a slight aroma of politician—I’ll call it aroma for now, because I don’t know him well enough to determine if it qualifies as stench or not." I was reassured by fellow NNY blogger pguston of
abaycircus, "The aroma that you noticed is not stench, he is a natural salesman, able to sell an ice cream sandwich to an eskimo."
I felt somewhat comfortable, then, with my first impression.
Well, the jury's just come in.
Its stench.
And it reeks so bad, I can smell it through my TV set:
I felt mildly violated today as I, during my hectic morning tornado routine, had a fly-by glimpse of him on
News10Now. I halted and watched in horror. There he was fresh-faced and smiling after his debate--and
reciting the same words he had said to me. "I am a fresh face. I have a fire in my belly. I'm ready to get in there and get to work." I turned off the TV. I felt like I had just been played.
Those words said to me during my conversation with him those many weeks ago, were being broadcast on regional news. How dare he? I felt at ease with him--felt he was genuine, sincere, forthcoming. We talked for a good while that night, and I was appreciative of the fact that he took the time to listen to me, but also to relate his story to me. There were other people there that wanted his attention, but he took the time to talk to me. It wasn't a question and answer session. It was more like two new friends getting to know one another. In retrospect, he spoke with the ease of a politician, craftily weaving his story, in and out with easily veiled talking points. What a fool was I! There's a reason for the saying "never trust a politician who speaks from the heart."
So, Mr. Cantwell, since you have pissed me off, I will now reveal the embarrassing advice I gave you that night. Has anyone recently heard Bobby Cantwell refer to himself as "Bobby Cantwell"?
If the answer is yes, then he is the fool, not me. If the answer is no, then he is wise to have listened.
While shaking his hand, my parting words to Mr. Cantwell that evening were, "And by the way, don't refer to yourself in the third person--especially if you are going to debate that woman. It makes you come off as pompous and self-absorbed."
Here's another bit of advice...
When talking "candidly" to Small Town America in the future, Mr. Cantwell, please preface your remarks with the following disclaimer:
"I'm Bobby Cantwell, and your ears are simply a vessel for my talking points."