What A Long, Strange Race It's Been!

The Nose

Michael A. Brown was born with the proverbial silver spoon firmly wedged in his mouth. Charismatic, tall, dark and handsome, scion of a Clinton BFF, Brown is a native Washingtonian, favorite son of vote-rich Ward 4. What better combination could one offer to the District electorate?

This brings us, Dear Readers, to the subject of Brown's recent defeat. The Nose has learned four lessons from this fiasco:

  1. You don't get elected unless you campaign.

  2. You can't campaign effectively without money.

  3. Politicians who pay their bills and their taxes get elected.

  4. Always watch the campaign checkbook.

The Brown name was once considered to be so powerful a political moniker that its very appearance on the ballot even when harnessed to different politician of the completely opposite complexion stirred fear in the hearts of opponents. The successful nimbus that surrounded Brown the Elder, in common wisdom, was said to magically levitate his son's political prospects.

In a changing city, where bicycles whiz along cycle lanes, dogs frolic in exquisitely designed municipal canine recreation facilities while mothers lounge in child play areas alongside complicated double decker strollers resembling The Transformers of cinematic fame, perhaps it is time to refashion the political commonsense of an earlier cocoa inflected era?

To those that still believe in the brand of Brown, here is little ditty for you cribbed without apology from the songbook of the Grateful Dead:

Running, Got my chips cashed in. Keep running, against the Grosso man.
Together, more or less in line. Just keep running all the time.

Arrows of neon and flashing marquees out on U Street.
Hip, young, biking, tweeting and it's all on the same street.
A younger, gentrifying city involved in an upscale daydream
Hang it up Chocolate City ‘cause you know what tomorrow brings.

Union Market, got handcrafted sodas and knishes;
Anacostia, got galleries and an art scene;
The Washington ComPost's got the ways and means;
but just won’t endorse you, oh no!

Most of the Council you meet on the dais speak of ethics,
Most of the time they're too busy to hear constituent groans.
One of these days they know they better get working,
Or they'll be out of office and stranded on the streets all alone.

Running, like the Grosso man; once told me you've got to play your hand.
Sometimes your treasury's not worth a damn, but you still got to lay'em down!

Sometimes the dollars are raining on me;
Other times reporters won't let me be.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange race it's been.

What in the world ever became of Mary Jane?
She gained legality and now she isn't the same.
Living on Ben's chili, Peregrine expresso, and Metro trains,
All I can say is ain't it a shame.

Sitting and staring out of the apartment window,
Got a tip that the bank's gonna foreclose on the property again.
I'd like to get some sleep before I campaign,
But if you got a writ, I guess I gotta let you in.

Busted, down on K Street. Set up, like a bowling pin.
Knocked down, it gets to wearing thin. The press just won’t let you be, oh no.

You're sick of hanging around, and the campaign's begun to unravel;
Get tired of running and you want to settle down.
I guess they can't revoke your license for trying,
Get out of the Wilson Building! Drive out and look around!

Sometimes the dollars are raining on me;
Other times reporters won't let me be.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange race it's been.

In the case of Michael A. Brown, the emperor truly had no clothes.

Have comment for The Nose? Write him at thenose@hillrag.com.

your posting

I really dislike your posting and the underlying or rather overlaying of hostility of African Americans. You are typical of white americans who believe that privelege is only for them and the thing that you are great at is trying to denigrate any person of color who acts as if your privelge does not exsist.

No wonder that there is so much racism, anger and hatred in DC you folks just can't give it a rest

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