Drafting the script for Klarides vs. Bysiewicz 2022
Let us concede that it is a joyous thing indeed to contemplate pure, naked politics as a respite from the biological troubles that engulf us.
And who would have ever expected that?
Themis Klarides announced she will not seek another term as state representative which means she will no longer be House minority leader.
But what else does it mean?
It is reasonable to conclude she will run for governor in 2022.
But, you ask, why would she leave a position of such enormous visibility two years before the election?
This is a common question, but it contains a fallacy. The state legislature is more like the Rockettes than like the cast of “Jersey Shore.” You know the Rockettes exist, but you do not know who any of them are, whereas I can name several cast members of “Jersey Shore” despite never having seen one episode.
Many people know the names of the senator and representative who represent them, although I would argue that far more do not.
Ask any weathered political consultant or campaign manager, and they will tell you stories of testing (via poll or focus group) the name recognition of some Connecticut political titan, who is shocked to find out nobody has ever heard of him or her.
Political titan: “But ... but ... I have been chairman of the Regulation Review Committee since 2007!”
Political consultant (in tones of deep, deep sorrow): “Yes. You have.”
Legislators think they’re famous because most of their contact is with lobbyists, supplicants and toadies, assuming you think there’s any distinction worth making among those three.
They are welcomed as honored guests at community functions, etc., etc. “We are so thrilled to have you with us tonight, Senator Greasemonkey, at our post-Daffodil Festival awards banquet.” (Applause.)
In the era of “long tail” marketing it’s often better to have 30,000 people who are passionate about you and your work than 300,000 who have a vague, affirmative view of you. But not in elections.
Another way to think about this: When was the last time a high-ranking Connecticut legislator went directly from there to the office of governor? The answer, whatever it is, lies outside the scope of my memory, and I have been covering Connecticut politics for so long that I have (for real) a photograph of me and Ella Grasso wearing Army helmets.
Themis Klarides has some obvious advantages over her peers. First of all, she is Themis Klarides. The House and Senate combined add up to 187 people. Would you be surprised to know that 41 of them are men named Bob Duff? That is not true, but it might as well be.
Themis is a really great name. In Greek mythology, Themis is a titan. Titans were around before gods. Themis is depicted as a figure of judicial equipoise, carrying balanced scales. You never know who our baby is going to turn out to be. A more fitting name would have been Penthesilea, the Amazon queen who led her army to fight alongside the Trojans and, in one account, actually killed Achilles.
Themis is colorful. In her salad days, she had an eye-catching role in the arenas of global grappling. She is blunt and funny. There is a video clip circulating on social media in which Klarides holds up two white balls the size of clementines and explains that these are what her fellow legislators need to grow. If Donald Trump ever sees that clip he will appoint her Secretary of Health and Human Services and that will be that.
I should add that I like Themis a great deal. She is engaged to marry a dear friend of mine, and she is very good company. I don’t agree with her about anything, but I would rather have dinner with her than with any of the 41 Bob Duffs, including Bob Duff 16 and Bob Duff 27, who hold beliefs nearly identical to mine.
My hope is that she will win the Republican nomination, and that Ned Lamont, having rescued Connecticut from oblivion, will retire to some tweedy Valhalla and that Lt. Gov. Susan Bysiewicz will emerge as the Democratic nominee, a process that could very well involve the accidental deaths or mysterious poisonings of several mayors and constitutional officers. Then Klarides and Bysiewicz will face each other — Penthesilea vs. Xena — on the field of battle and there will be blood and chicken feathers and bits of mangled wolverine flesh and the clang of broadsword against leaden shield and the straining of mighty sinews.
This is why I take 5,000 units of vitamin D3 and refuse to shake hands with anyone who has recently bowled. So that I can live to cover this gubernatorial campaign.
If Bob Stefanowski cared anything about me (or were more afraid of women with swords), he would depart the scene, but he probably won’t. And in 2018, Stefanowski persuaded 650,138 people to vote for him, not because he had done anything but because they had seen him on TV, which is also why way more people recognize the name Paris Hilton than recognize the names Jonas Salk or Galileo.
Themis will have to do something about that after she leaves the legislature.
May I suggest “Keeping Up with the Klaridishians?” I’ll help write the pilot.