The Fantastic Four
In the crowded field of political candidates in this electoral season, there are four who have emerged as great hopes for our democracy.
They have overcome character issues and moral deficiencies that would have crippled ordinary people. They have shown, in heroic fashion, that they aren't encumbered with and certainly won't be stopped by that dismal duo of human weaknesses known as shame and conscience.
After making shady career choices, forging bonds with felons, and, in one special case, paving the way for the decline of America and much destruction around the world, they continue to chug along, gallantly oblivious to the fact that, by all rights, they should have no quarter in public service.
But America is free, and these candidates remind us of that freedom, in its most outrageous and extreme forms, at every turn. And for that, we salute them.
Now let's meet our own Fantastic Four.
The Millionaire Man
Who is Jordan Howard Jordan? Well, he used to be named Jordan H. Breslaw until he changed it in the early 1990s. Now he wants to be a Broward County judge. Oh, and he's also a "successful millionaire doctor, lawyer, entrepreneur, author, soccer coach, and chef."
How do we know that? He tells us so himself at the start of his book, How to Raise Millionaire Children, which he self-published early this year and is marketing through an infomercial campaign.
Well, that takes care of the "author" and "entrepreneur" boasts, I suppose. But what about doctor? Well, he's a chiropractor. That counts, doesn't it? And he's a lawyer too, according to the Florida Bar.
In fact, his legal and medical business finds great confluence in the realm of ambulance-ch, er, I mean personal-injury law. He claims in his book bio that he has "had the privilege of helping numerous clients receive hundreds of thousands of dollars in compensation for their personal injuries."
And on top of that, he appears as an expert witness in personal injury trials, making $350 to $1,000 an hour. Good man!
As for being a millionaire, he owns a house in Coral Springs worth more than half a mil, so I'm guessing he's telling the truth about that too. And it should be noted that he tells that particular truth over and over again in his book, referring to himself repeatedly as a self-made millionaire.
Yet he claims he doesn't care a whit about making money on the book.
"I have no interest in selling books," he writes. "My only interest is in helping your child be a millionaire."
Told you he was a good man. Jordan is just a simple self-made millionaire who wants all the little boys and all the little girls to grow up to be millionaires like him. Taken that way, it's something of a motivational book, in the vein of one of his heroes, famous "life coach" Anthony Robbins.
Jordan writes in his book that Robbins taught him "how to build rapport with people; how to meet your soul mate; how to be a millionaire; how to live like a king..."
But it's his mom and dad, Lenore and Herb, who deserve the real credit.
"With special parents like that, it is no wonder I am a doctor, lawyer, entrepreneur, self-made millionaire and my children are on the right track," he writes, adding that he was nurtured in a "millionaire environment."
So how do you teach your kids to become millionaires? Let Jordan explain the basic physics of the millionaire equation.
"In order to be a millionaire, you don't become a millionaire," he writes. "To become, you have to act as if. If you act as if, your brain doesn't know the difference between truth and reality and starts to function like a millionaire. Once your brain believes it's a millionaire, your body starts to act like a millionaire. Once you act congruently like a millionaire, the world will become a mirror image of what you are and, presto! you're a millionaire."
See how simple it is? This guy has successful politician written all over him. Think about it. Once you've mastered the art of tricking your brain not to recognize the truth, you're halfway there. He's probably acting as if he were a judge already. Soon his body will catch on and the world that means us will soon become a mirror image of Jordan's will and elect him to the bench.
Irv the Nerve
When you think of Irv Slosberg, just think of Roberto Benigni without the sense of humor. Slosberg, a slight and balding man who bears a certain resemblance to the Italian comic actor, can be just as hilarious, though on an unintentional level.
The six-year state representative isn't just running to keep his Democratic seat in the Florida House against political upstart Ted Deutch. He's also refrigerating.
That's right. After padding his campaign account with $1.3 million of his own money, the incumbent has formed the Slosberg Emergency Management Aid (SEMA), complete with ten refrigerated trucks packed with ice. He's giving out telephone numbers to seniors to call in case Wilma's bigger, badder sister comes to town.
It takes a big man to jeopardize the welfare of voters while he's grandstanding on the campaign trail.
Can't you see the madcap humor developing? Elderly woman loses air conditioning and electricity. Fading fast, she calls SEMA, only Slosberg's absurdly pathetic little supply of goods is already used up. Elderly woman dies of heat exhaustion, her SEMA card clutched in her cold hand.
How funny is that?
Jim Waldman is a man who seems to live by the motto that love of money conquers all. And that has helped secure him a long career in South Florida politics.
After a lengthy stint as a Coconut Creek commissioner, he's running for the Florida House in the Democratic primary against party loyalist Amy Rose. The question about Waldman who has raised a record $200,000 for the campaign isn't whether he's a loyalist but whether he's really a Democrat.
His boss and largest campaign contributor, Arthur Keiser, owner of the quickee colleges that bear his name, is a major Republican. So are many of his other top supporters, including wealthy Bush family friend Mark Guzzetta. So is Waldman's family. So is Waldman himself. Or at least he was before he switched parties to run for City Commission in Democrat-rich Coconut Creek in 1992.
Let's face it: Only in the most brain-dead parts of Broward could a candidate get away with this kind of chicanery. But it gets even better. His business partner and good buddy Bradley Hertz is a convicted Medicare fraud artist. After Hertz was convicted of the crime in 2000 and sent to prison, Waldman took over some of the felon's businesses. In that sense, it's easy to extrapolate that the candidate has profited indirectly from fraud.
Then there's another business associate, Mohammad Salameh, who was arrested for insurance fraud in February. Salameh ran a check-cashing store on a property owned by Waldman. The man got into business with the help of a $50,000 investment from the politician himself.
He not only taketh but he also giveth away. What a kind, unselfish man.
Katherine the Great
If you don't admire Katherine Harris, then you simply don't care about greatness.
This is a woman who duly helped purge minorities from the election rolls and disqualified votes during the 2000 presidential election to help George W. Bush win the presidency. Without her incredible dedication, we might never have had the tax giveaway to the rich, the Iraq War, or the record debt of $8.5 trillion.
So you owe Harris a lot, whether you like her or not. Since then, she's had a makeover to give her an almost human-like appearance and has been elected to Congress as a Republican. Today, she wants your vote in her bid for U.S. Senate.
She's a good woman, with love in her heart. And there's no one who knows that better than her big campaign contributors. She really showed her love with defense contractor MZM Inc. You know, that's the firm that had such a magnificent drive to succeed that it wouldn't let anything as mundane as federal bribery laws get in its way. Ask Randy "Duke" Cunningham, who resigned tearfully from Congress after accepting those bribes (the quitter!).
MZM also didn't mind bundling up illegal campaign contributions and a lot of them wound up in Harris' till. Harris showed proper gratitude by shilling for the company on Capitol Hill. She also had dinner with MZM founder Mitchell Wade, who has since pleaded guilty to bribery charges. It was a quaint affair, with a tab that ran in excess of $2,800. Wade picked it up, which would seem to be a blatant violation of the $50 Congressional gift limit. But Harris had an answer. She claims she consumed only an appetizer and drink at the lavish dinner that cost less than $100.
She is a petite lady, after all. It was the big fat Wade who scarfed up $2,700 worth of grub and vino, she said.
You don't believe her? Well, who cares?
She's above you. And her gall dazzles, giving her a glow that outshines the glitter in her old bottle of mascara. It's that inward strength, that uncanny ability to trounce triumphantly on everything that is good and decent, that makes her great. It all stems from a strong, lifetime sense of entitlement as the granddaughter of Florida land baron Ben Hill Griffin and an intensive religious indoctrination that included extensive study under noted Christian cult figures like Francis Schaeffer and Bill Gothard. Just over the weekend, she made national news for telling a Baptist journal that separation of church and state is a "lie." She's got God on her side. Isn't that fantastic?
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