We were had by the brilliant hoax that claimed Bill Murray was running for President. It got one of our writers bad. So lets all point and laugh.
I guess all you can do is laugh. At yourself. Last night in the wee hours, I stumbled upon a nugget of political gold, it was perfect. Bill Murray was running for President. Who better to highlight the overt stupidity of the 2016 Presidential race than Bill Murray being the most sensible option?
My fingers bled in furious action as I tried to make sense of his run via a lazy metaphor:
Can the man who busts ghosts set the same trap for ISIL?
But, much like the one-night stand entered with the best of impulses, the morning after brought with it reality. It was a fake.
As the other shoe dropped, I looked over what I had done and felt dirty. I had been had, but worse than that—I sounded smug:
Can he turn what the politicians most covet—popularity—into votes, harnessing what the politicians have, but he doesn’t—respect?
He’s the Ultimate Hollywood candidate, universally liked, he could easily pitch his views and we’d buy it, because it’s Bill Murray. But, will we pay him the same mind in an area that isn’t his? In the political climate, would Bill be doing something he’s not? Can we take him seriously? A man to point out life’s faults, to make us laugh at the idiosyncrasies of life that crush us—we love him for making light of that. He’s the cool dad of society. But we respect the strict dad more when the bills are due.
I waffled on, with the pious sense of a Poli-Sci major who hung out at the campus bar of the university he never went to.
Even if Bill Murray achieves a modicum of alternate thought or a nanosecond of pause among the melee of discourse, would that be enough? Or would it be a brief moment of sense, then erased by the electoral standards that elect presidents; religion, race, war?
Where does he stand?
Before dragging an eventual conclusion of:
What Bill is risking is our opinion of him. He might coast to the White House, sweep in and save us all, elevating him to a level of outright, unsubscribed adoration not yet seen in Western Politics, or he’ll cling onto what corner he has etched, like so many before, and abandon his views in the pursuit of the chair in the Oval Office.
What makes this different, though, is that politicians have nothing to lose; they start with nothing, climb the ladder and are eventually thrown off. But that’s fine, its the game. There’s no risk. Because there’s nothing to risk. Whereas with Bill, he risks changing the answer to the question: we love Bill Murray, but how much?
Gah! The Horror!
So, Bill, do us a favor and run for the Presidency. America needs you, as do I. Save my writing career.
Before I delete everything else, I’d like to agree with my previous conclusion:
The man makes too make sense for politics,
and the best that it can do is change Bill. To be taken seriously, alliances must be formed, and policy pushed in the same direction; Bill, at some point, will not have to be Bill, he’ll have to serious, and as evidenced in the four seconds we thought he was dead in Zombieland, that was strange enough.