“He Ain’t Kinky, He’s My Governor.”

“He Ain’t Kinky, He’s My Governor.”

“He Ain’t Kinky, He’s My Governor.”

In this era of ever-more-cautious electioneering, when consultants counsel contenders to stick to the safe, narrow and drab on the warped theory that the lowest common denominator is dull, the art of political sloganeering has hit something of a dry spell.

It may well be that the last really great — or, at least memorable — slogan was the one used by supporters of former Louisiana Governor Edwin Edwards, a man who had faced more than his share of corruption charges, in a 1991 contest with nuevo-Klansman David Duke: “Vote for the Crook. It’s Important!”

But 2006 will be different. Country singer and novelist Kinky Friedman’s campaign for governor of Texas has already produced the best bumpersticker slogan that the American political landscape has seen in years: “He Ain’t Kinky, He’s My Governor.”

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In this era of ever-more-cautious electioneering, when consultants counsel contenders to stick to the safe, narrow and drab on the warped theory that the lowest common denominator is dull, the art of political sloganeering has hit something of a dry spell.

It may well be that the last really great — or, at least memorable — slogan was the one used by supporters of former Louisiana Governor Edwin Edwards, a man who had faced more than his share of corruption charges, in a 1991 contest with nuevo-Klansman David Duke: “Vote for the Crook. It’s Important!”

But 2006 will be different. Country singer and novelist Kinky Friedman’s campaign for governor of Texas has already produced the best bumpersticker slogan that the American political landscape has seen in years: “He Ain’t Kinky, He’s My Governor.”

Friedman’s also got the best counter to the Bush administration’s failed education initiatives. A campaign t-shirt declares: “No Teacher Left Behind.”

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Running as an independent who must petition his way onto the fall ballot (his campaign is gearing up to collect signatures from more than 45,540 registered voters beginning March 8), Friedman’s pitching a serious set of progressive education, health care and energy policy reforms. Two separate polls released in recent days have Friedman garnering around 10 percent support, behind the ridiculous incumbent, Rick Perry, and his chief challenger, State Comptroller Carole Keeton Strayhorn — a Democrat turned Republican who is now running as an independent with the support of her youngest son, embattled White House spokesman Scott McClellan — but quite close to overtaking the two Democrats who are trying to mount campaigns. (Perry, who inherited his job when George W. Bush was handed the presidency by the U.S. Supreme Court, may yet prove to be vulnerable. A recent Dallas Morning News poll found that, when asked to name the governor’s most important accomplishment during five years in office, 70 percent could not think of anything.)

Even as his campaign gains the sort of attention and support that often causes candidates to put their personalities on hold, the man who once fronted the band Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys can be counted on to keep the Texas race worth watching. His campaign manifesto — which begins by announcing: “Why the hell not?Texas politics stinks” — makes that clear. “Texans are the most independent people in America, and if we’re going to be inspired, the inspiration will come from someone unafraid to deal in new ideas and honest answers, an independent leader who lets the people call the plays instead of dancing to the tune of the money men,” it explains. “That kind of leader is never going to look or sound like a politician. He won’t steer by image polls, speak in hollow phrases approved by focus groups, or show up in hand-tailored suits.”

For the record, Kinky wears blue jeans (faded), a black shirt (untucked), black books (slightly muddied), a black cowboy hat (beaten up a bit) and a Montecristo No. 2. cigar (ever present).

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