An antidote to the nation's political poison

When Paris Hilton makes a legitimate appearance in the American political process, with her clothes (mostly) on, it's time to try something new.

At the moment, I'd prefer a national round of Twister, which the past quarter century argues has a better chance of determining a decent president than actually voting.

Maybe it's the heat, but I appear to be growing cranky about a month ahead of schedule. It could be my dad's 75th birthday, a milestone that somehow manages to make me feel older while leaving him unscathed. Happy birthday anyway, Dad.

Ordinarily, it takes until at least Labor Day for me to lose all patience with American democracy. It usually happens sometime after the national conventions and the TV pictures of idiots wearing Purple Heart Band-Aids and the seven-hour speeches by minor governors I've never heard of. And the stupid balloons.

This year, though, I'm already tired of the humorless Democratic bobbleheads who find offense everywhere. I'm exhausted by the Republican noise machine that repeats talking points in perfect robotic unison.

I'm weary of everyone being so tetchy, so damnably predictable, mouthing scripted lines without the slightest bit of imagination or energy or common decency.

There was a moment, early on, in which I had hope for the presidential election, back when John McCain promised to run a civil campaign and Barack Obama hadn't yet begun his victory lap. Now, though, I wonder whether either of these guys ever really intended to change anything.

White House wannabes aren't the only ones behaving badly. The congressional race between U.S. Rep. Thelma Drake and challenger Glenn Nye in the Second District is tighter than expected, and therefore nastier and more expensive; the only reason the U.S. Senate race isn't uglier is that it isn't closer.

That leaves the local races. In Suffolk and Virginia Beach, where everyone seems to be running for mayor, the next few months promise to be a salve for the injuries inflicted elsewhere on the ballot.

You can be sure, given the cast of characters in both cities, that there will be some unpleasantness; the races each feature at least one candidate with a weak grasp of gracious behavior.

But it is the nature of local politics that it's hard to be impolite without it turning back on you. It's hard to be a jerk when you're sitting face to face with someone, or even shoulder to shoulder. It's hard to be unkind when your friends are watching.

When Tom Powell - a political newcomer and one of at least seven people running for mayor in Suffolk - got his turn at a forum last month, he began with graceful thanks to the current mayor, Linda Johnson. Now, Powell wouldn't be running for the mayor's office if he didn't believe he could do a better job than Johnson, but he's also a decent guy. That's what the audience saw.

It's what most of us will see whenever we tune into the local races, which will be far too hard to hear. In part, that's because national politics in D.C. is conducted with everyone shouting and because local politics usually occurs in a civil tone of voice.

In Virginia Beach, where Meyera Oberndorf is in her third decade as mayor, there are people - some of whom financed her past elections - who have written checks to her opponents, which include former Vice Mayor Will Sessoms.

As always when Mayor Obern- dorf runs, there is talk over the hedges about the style of her leadership, about whether it's time for a change. Still, even with so many people talking, that's only a murmur at the margins, because to bring it front and center would be rude.

That's the kind of thing that is no longer a concern in campaigns that end in Washington. But here, we like to think of ourselves as Southern gentlemen and ladies. When Election Day is over, we have to live with each other. In the meantime, if we can't say something nice about somebody, we'll do it in a whisper, when they're nowhere around.

Donald Luzzatto is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot.

E-mail him at donald.luzzatto@pilotonline.com.