Vote for Me, because I Can't Vote for Myself!

I had the pleasure of spending a recent Summer afternoon with Mr. Mark Hugo, 2002 Great Hobo candidate for the New York State gubernatorial race. (In the process of full disclosure, we at the Hoboes must report that the author - Tyler Carey - is one of the few people willing to help Mr. Hugo with his campaign...You might even call him Mr. Hugo's campaign manager, but let's not pick at straws.) We sat on the deck of his Connecticut home. Okay, again, it's not his home - it's his parents' place.

"Mark," I said, "Some people might be a little skeptical about voting for you for governor of the State of New York, considering you live in Connecticut. Any thoughts?"

"Tyler, Tyler, Tyler, that's why I'm the perfect candidate. I'm completely outside the entrenched political system of New York State. How can I be swayed by special interests, if I don't live there?"

"I assume that this lack of state citizenship also accounts for your motto: Vote for Me, because I Can't Vote for Myself?"

"Bingo. I tried to change citizenship before the election...y'know...just to get that extra vote I could bring to my own campaign, but things didn't pan out."

This worried me. "There wasn't any collusion to prevent you from entering the race or moving to the state, was there?"

"No," Mark explained, "It's just that I've got a pretty cherry deal here. I live with my parents and all, y'know."

"And are they behind your campaign?" I asked.

"Oh, totally. They've been trying to get me to move out for years."

"I hear that the governor's mansion in Albany is pretty sweet."

Mark scratched his jaw. "I'm actually considering relocating the mansion and capitol after I win the race."

"Really? Where to?"

"Valhalla. Y'know, with the connotations of Teutonic deities and all, nobody'd mess with New York if we had our capitol in...y'know...Valhalla. I mean, who's going to challenge the God of Thunder and all the rest?"

"Uhhh...right..."

"Well, hey, this has been fun. I gotta go get ready for a campaign appearance, though."

"Where are you stumping today, Mr. Hugo?"

"I've got a schedule of visiting four junk yards in Westchester County. They're a big part of my target demographic. We'd better get hopping."

As we prepped his 1987 Volvo for the campaign trail, I felt a twinge of inspiration. This great man was going to lead my state to better times, I could tell. It's not often that one is in the presence of such a figure - a guru, a wiseman... As I gulped down the last of the afternoon Pabst and hopped in the passenger seat, I knew that I was on the straight talk express. Mr. Hugo might not have fancy banquets to finance his campaign, and he might not be able to bend the ear of Clintons or Kennedys, but those guys at the junkyard were in for the honest truth. Mr. Hugo was going to give it to 'em straight, and carry out his promises. Since he has no business interests in New York, and doesn't even own any property there, he can only bring a clean slate to Albany.

As we crossed the state line, I noticed that you could see a powerful, golden glow about Mr. Hugo. He put a "They Might Be Giants" tape in the cassette deck and floored it. New York, New York, here we come!




We hope to have more insights from the inner circle of this, New York's last best hope for a great governor, quite soon. In the meantime, please email your support and suggestions to: tyler@greathoboes.com. Remember, vote early, and vote often!

Tyler M. Carey
Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, The Great Hoboes of New York
Apparent Campaign Manager, Mark Hugo for Governor Campaign
September 4, 2002