There comes a time in every college student's life when he or she casually decides, having no relevant experience and really no qualifications whatsoever, to run a completely random and downright reckless campaign for Student Council president. For me that time was February 2007.
My message was clear: I was there to shake things up. I was there to make an impact. I was there to represent the people. But most of all, I was there because I happened to be hanging out in the Kaleidoscope Room when the University Board of Elections was passing around the candidate sign-up sheet. True story.
Commentators have compared me to such revolutionaries as Nathan Hale, Vanilla Ice and that dude who eats ridiculous numbers of hot dogs. There's a big difference between me and them, though: a little ditty I like to call www.votedooley.com.
With literally minutes of streaming video and paragraphs of text, many wondered where I found the time to put my Web site together. The secret? I didn't. Without giving too much away, let me just say that kidnapping Dennis Kucinich's campaign staff was the second best decision I've ever made (right after my decision not to pay Dennis Kucinich's campaign staff for designing my Web site).
For the benefit of those who will one day carry on the Greg Scanlon-Curran Jhanjee-Dan Dooley torch, I'll map out the perfect presidential campaign. The first key to any public endeavor is to jettison your sense of shame. You think Vanilla Ice got where he is today by second-guessing himself? Absolutely not.
Next, create for yourself an appealing yet mysterious image. I donned a scarf 24 hours a day. Before long, my neck and the scarf had become inseparable. When I was walking to class, scarf. When I was eating at O-Hill, scarf. When I was washing my scarf, temporary replacement scarf.
This fashion accessory was more than a gimmick. It allowed me to take on the alter ego of "the Man behind the Scarf." It was PR bliss. Everyone wanted to know whether the political personality I had created was merely a shield between the voters and the real me, or whether I had actually been transformed into that very character. Pretty soon people were asking for a piece of the man behind the Man behind the Scarf. It didn't even make sense, and I started to lose touch with my own true identity. That's when I knew the campaign had taken off.
The confusion leads directly to the last, most important step in running an effective campaign: be yourself. This only works, however, when you are willing to modify "yourself" to meet the needs of any given situation. This doesn't mean you have to lie or surrender your dignity. Just be willing to be lenient with the truth. Note below how my attitude changed subtly when three different endorsing organizations asked me similar questions.
University Democrats: To what extent has the legendary rapper/actor Vanilla Ice affected your life and your campaign?
Me: He is a god among men. His hair soars like an unstoppable wave of inspiration. I loved him in "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze." If he were alive today, I would write admiring letters to him.
Ballroom Dance Club: How do you plan to address the fact that Vanilla Ice almost single-handedly ruined the credibility of dance performance, not to mention rap music and baggy pants, in the '90s?
Me: He is the worst excuse for an entertainer of all time. His albums are a threat to our national security and should be banished to Germany or some such place. I also do not approve of his involvement with baggy pants.
College Republicans: Critics have argued that your campaign is a misguided effort to imitate previous "outsider" candidates such as Messrs, Scanlon and Jhanjee and that your lack of originality is reminiscent of Vanilla Ice's apparent theft of the bass line from "Under Pressure" for his own song, "Ice Ice Baby." How do you respond to these allegations?
Me: That's truly insulting. How dare you. "Under Pressure" goes "dun dun dun dada dun dun [pause] dun dun dun dada dun dun." "Ice Ice Baby" goes "dun dun dun dada dun dun *chk* dun DUN dun dun dada dun dun." They are completely different songs.
These responses were instrumental in my ultimate second-place finish, of which I am very proud. Did I make a few mistakes? Sure. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have spent half my time campaigning at William & Mary, and I definitely should have voted for myself rather than Vanilla Ice. Also, my use of the slogan "Vote for me and all my wildest dreams will come true" was not totally thought out. But I learned a lot and had fun. Thanks to my friends and supporters.
Daniel's column runs weekly on Wednesdays. He can be reached at dooley@virginia.edu.
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