BY DAN VALENTI

PLANET VALENTI NEWS AND COMMENTARY

(FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, WEDNESDAY OCT. 25, 2017) — Once upon a time, in a dim and distant present — the time in Pittsfield’s electoral history where “now” officially and finally became “then” — an ersatz collection of “candidates” stood on the ballot pounded so thin by fluid-draining apathy that it out-“thinned” a wafer.

Welcome to the freeze-dried election. Just add water and stir.

In November, thanks to a neat bit of crookery known as “the new city charter,” the mayor’s office won’t be up for grabs. Add to that a series of deadly boring “races” plus too many candidates not worthy of official life, and you’re looking at single-digit turnouts so measly that lexicons will have to catch plate to include the new words bound to be created by linguists trying out-do “apathy” in hopelessness.

To give this counterfeit campaign any attention strike THE PLANET as morbid. Nonetheless, buoyed by the spooks of October, we shall do so.

Come on down, Helen Moon.

By the nature of her candidacy, The Moonbat neatly symbolizes the jejune, even-emaciated nature of Campaign ’17 by what she says, what she doesn’t say, and what she represents.

The Nature of Her Candidacy: Coronate Moonbat today. The Suits have seen to everything: publicity, finances, and best of all, creating hopelessness throughout the city which, last time we checked, still includes Ward 1. THE PLANET makes the latter statement guardedly, since the singular ward has not been truly represented since the days of Rockin’ Rob Tuttle. Now that she’s unofficially officially in, Moonbat can go about Job 1, which is to advance every initiative of the Powers That Be to the detriment of Mary Jane and Joe Kapanski, an ordinary pair of bedraggled  taxpayers who have managed the minor miracle of dwindling in number yet found living in all seven wards.

Here’s the Secret Electoral Plan For Ward 1, given to THE PLANET from a person some consider the Suits’ capo di tutti capi. Capo says “They” wanted the present Ward 1 councilor out, for reasons not divulged. Conveniently, all of a sudden Lisa Tully got a “headache” and decided not to re-up. In her place, The Suits dialed up an even more “Won’t rock the boat” type, one who will perpetuate the fiction that all is well, raise taxes, support more $$$ for the school department, and forever be grateful to her masters.

Capo says they thought they had found the perfect choice in Ty Allen Jackson. TAJ, you see, had the right stuff plus the perfect pigmentation. How could he not throw a perfect game? Answer: By having the spine to think for himself. For The Suits, independence is the Cardinal Sin. They expect their “house Toms” of both gender and color NOT to be “uppity.” This may have lost TAJ a council seat but boosted his value in THE PLANET‘s eyes.

The incident, if true as Capo relates it, shows that “Pocohontas progressives” care about minorities only if they can exploit them for political purposes. “Racist” might be a suitable word to describe this bad strategy. Consequently, all of a sudden TAJ mysteriously falls through the trap door in the proverbial back room at Remo‘s. Enter Moonbat, in record time primed and ready for her star turn. As for TAJ, he will serve hard time in solitary, after which he may be allowed  in through The Suits’ service entrance. Sad.

What She Says: Blather. All blather. Moonbat speaks in the boilerplate of a teleprompter, the words inputted by someone else, rotely scrolling cliches’ uttered in the ornamented style of a finial — looking good but serving no practical purpose. “Strategic … dynamic … vibrant … initiatives … diversity… I hope to engage new people … I am really so inspired … There are so many great things in Ward 1.”  Blah blah blah. Stick a fork in her. We think she’s done. Put her in office now.

What She Doesn’t Say: Nothing about cutting taxes, which remains the singlemost important policy move that Pittsfield can do. Nothing about reducing city spending. Nothing about reigning in an out-of-control school department. Nothing about the need for across-the-board accountability for all city departments, especially department heads. Nothing about SPECIFICALLY dealing with “Untouchables”-type crime and mayhem.

What She Represents: The young, attractive face that vapidly projects the “feel good” image of a Viagra ad or a hair-shampoo commercial. Underneath the sunshine and flowers, one can search diligently for political courage and intellectual substance only to surface empty-handed with a bad case of the bends.

THE PLANET would remind Helen Moon — and all who will win office, for that matter — that we will gladly meet with any of them over coffee, on or off the record. For THE PLANET, coverage is never personal. It’s political. Our advice to the winners: Toughen up your hide. When you assume public office and utter the oath, you declare youself fair game. You are and will be held accountable at this address.

Good luck to you all. You’re going to need it.

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“You can’t just belong to someone. You have to be connected to them.” — Lady Huntington Proteus Hollingsworth III.

“OPEN THE WINDOW, AUNT MILLIE.”

LOVE TO ALL.

The Usual Disclaimer.