Bobby Tufts, the 4-year-old mayor of Dorset, Minn., has the usual complement of mayorly duties. He goes fishing; he finds a stick; he does a little dance; he puts a fishing bobber in his mouth. It’s all very Reaganesque.
I especially like his easy dodge out of the liberal media’s attempt to manufacture a scandal. “How many girlfriends do you have?” “Like one.” Solid play, Mr. Mayor — plausible deniability when you explain that it all depends what your definition of “like” is.
Actually, the girlfriend (Sophie) apparently plays a large role in Bobby’s reelection strategy:
Calls of “Mr. Mayor” greet Bobby as he strolls around Dorset, handing out his campaign card. One side shows Bobby, his dark hair slicked down, wearing his tan fishing vest over a suit jacket. The other side shows Bobby sitting in a porch swing with his girlfriend, Sophie.
“I would love to be your Mayor as much as I love Sophie,” the card reads.
Hey, he’s got his finger on the pulse. Tell me Michelle didn’t figure in to your voting choice.
How the heck does a preschooler get to run a town? Well, given the current state of politics, it’s no less sensible a decision than any other. And, more to the point, Dorset is a tourist town with fewer than 30 inhabitants. The mayoral election takes place at the annual Taste of Dorset festival, where residents and visitors can vote as often as they like for $1 per ballot. It’s not a stretch to say this is a bit of a figurehead position.
But that doesn’t mean Mayor Tufts has been idle:
Bobby’s major act as mayor so far has been to make ice cream the top of the food pyramid. He has many favourite flavours.
“Chocolate. And vanilla. Strawberry. Cotton candy kind. And rainbow sherbet,” said the mayor.
He has my vote.
