Californians need at least two strong parties, and Republicans need two strong gubernatorial candidates this cycle. Why? Because the only way for Republicans to win is to split the vote. Republicans love to whine about splitting the vote. They love it like Mike Teavee, Willy Wonka (1971), loved Westerns — he would vote for Bianco, hands down.
Tell Bianco to drop out. Tell Hilton to drop out. Serpa. Mercuri. Zacky. Ahn. The reasoning of Republican diehards is always the same — “they’ll split the vote, and we’ll lose!” Also, fun fact, there hasn’t been a California governor under 5’11” going back to at least Pat Brown (congrats, Governor Serpa). Want to do tarot cards next?
Every time I search for new governor candidates, I find another one, and my inner dialogue rings out: “Who is that jive-talking turkey?” One thing I do know — it’s not a delicious Zacky Farms turkey Grandpa Dukes used to carve up at Thanksgiving dinner with his electric knife, between cigarette and whiskey breaks. That’s the reason Zacky is in this race! Grandpa Dukes is now a resident of Riverside County, but his hometown was San Francisco.
But no, we don’t want to split the vote. Tell them all to drop out of the governor’s race except one, and then we can watch another massacre — Brian Dahle, or the recall, or John Cox, Neel Kashkari, Meg Whitman. Arnold doesn’t count. Bill Simon. Dan Lungren. But Pete Wilson won in 1994. Friends debuted two months earlier, and the longest-serving Republican in Congress from California, Ken Calvert, was the age millennials are now and had been on the job for a year or so. That’s what we call a real drought. Take that, Gavin Newsom! Republicans are on an epic roll! At this point, Republicans don’t need a red wave — they need a red atmospheric river.
By the way, to everyone I’ve listed, it is not their fault. Continue reading, part two specifically, if you dare. It’s a murder mystery, of sorts, for the lady Republican crowd, who I know love murder mysteries (that’s Part II). I don’t understand the motives of all the candidates. You don’t either. But they must have some motivation, coming from someplace.
I’ve met all of them, had personal conversations with most of them, and they’re all great guys — the best kind: the dads I see at wrestling or football practice, the batting cages, at the Norco batting cages. And yes, they have a cricket area, so even Steve Hilton is there in this imaginary scenario. I kid, I kid. By the way, Steve Hilton is one of the kindest humans you will ever meet. A real can-do type of guy. He looks great!
In my day, I’ve met a lot of dirty, rotten scoundrels who are in politics, and I’m not talking about policy. None of these guys is “that” privately. They are all welcome in my home, but don’t park that black-and-white cruiser in front of my house on election day. It doesn’t look good, and the kids don’t like it.
Which brings me to my next point: they all have the right to run for office. All of them. Even that guy who goes on long X rants and mostly gets no more than 150 impressions (and AH is being generous). Yes, even that guy has the right to run for governor, Mr. Orange. “Why can’t we pick our own colors?” Reservoir Dogs (1992), when Republicans still had some power in California.
The McCarthy-era style of politician does not fit the millennium, but the passion is great. The slandering is not. Old Joe McCarthy may have seen the future, like you, my friend, but it’s all in the delivery.
By the way, the way in which the character Joe Cabot ran the meeting in Reservoir Dogs should be in the bylaws of how central committees should run. As Rickles said, “It’s a pleasure to be here for this kind of money!”
So what is my point here? I haven’t gotten to it. Take a chill pill. Actually, don’t take pills. They are bad for you.
Here is the point — the unrefined, dirty little argument: Republicans need as many of these guys to get as much traction as possible.
What?
Yeah, you heard me. Because the problem with the Republican Party is that there is no party. Every one of these guys has a following. Different people, loosely tied together by a Republican-red thread.
But outside of the Republican circus, you are perceived as boring, not engaging, suit-wearing, and, dare I say, old. And telling the “kids” to work harder isn’t going to work, either.
Oh no, I’m going to be persona non grata! To that, I say drink the wine. And here’s another Latin saying for you out there: in vino veritas. In wine, there is truth.
Drink up. Buckle up.
What the Republican Party needs is as many people as possible to build up a following. They need as many people as possible to be excited about a change in California. They need that message conveyed to as many people as possible, and in every way possible.
That means Republicans need two candidates to split the vote, while all others who are not in the top two drop out at a hard-line date. When is that date? “Bueller? Bueller?” That’s your cue, California GOP.
This, as radical as it may sound, is called theory. Strategy. No, I’m no consultant.
Hear me out, Republicans. Get out of your own way. Take a step back from your bias in between bites (oh, Gavin) of the bad Republican lunches — chicken and rice, sometimes just salad and cake, but never all four. Fifty bucks.
Without the top two candidates being Republican, the math just ain’t mathing. Republicans need to push to the line as a team, with similar values (not every star has to align), and work toward winning the governor’s race in 2026.
I don’t care if Wilber wins. No, not Wilber. There is already too much pork in California’s government. But two of the guys I listed. Crazy? Yes. But how else do we escape this tangled web you’ve weaved here since ’94, Charlotte?
Have Republican gubernatorial candidates speak — have all of them talk — at your CRA events, the Log Cabin Republicans, Lincoln Club events, and all the ladies’ clubs (those are the most fun, by the way). Then, when the time is right, the top two go to the ballot, and no one should pull out a day early.
At that point, let the final two fight each other after the primary — the Republicans have already won the governorship. Radical? Perhaps. Dangerous? YES. But how well has the current strategy worked since 1994, Republicans? Because at the end of the day, aren’t these guys on the same team?
As my football coach, former New York Jets head coach Joe Walton, used to say, “Be happy for your teammate’s success.” Each of these men is spending their time, money, time away from their family, their livelihoods, their gardens — and what have they gotten? You know. Look at the cesspool that is social media comment sections.
What does history say, Republicans? It happened in the 1850s, when the Republican Party was in its infancy — weak — and the “Know-Nothings” in California (formally the American Party) emerged, briefly converting nativist anger into real political power. They sound like groypers, if we’re being honest.
Hey. At least the “Know-Nothings” got J. Neely Johnson elected governor, and that’s what’s coming next — maybe not the governor part. Do a little research and tell the Alta Historian that his suspicions are not reasonable.
The Alta Historian will stay, always and forever, a Jeffersonian Republican willing to negotiate with a good donkey, porcupine, or elephant.
End of Part I.
Bibliography | Notes
Friends. Created by David Crane and Marta Kauffman. NBC, 1994.
Reservoir Dogs. Directed by Quentin Tarantino. Miramax Films, 1992.
Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Directed by Mel Stuart. Paramount Pictures, 1971.
California gubernatorial election results, 1994–2022.
Classical Latin proverb: in vino veritas.
P.S. If nobody ever reads this, let this stand as a primary source of the moment many Americans realized something fundamental was breaking, and that the choice to act still existed. And if the republic collapsed, I’m sorry, I tried. :’ (