Well, we lost in a squeaker. By 273 votes out, or about 2%. Although we beat the expectations of those who thought I’d lose big, and dramatically exceeded the expectations of many who thought I’d lose unanimously. The good news is that I won the new district I would be running in, in November after reapportionment kicks in. Not bad, considering the district has 11,000 more Republicans than Democrats, we were outspent 3-1, and I spent much of the ’80’s going by the name “Phyllis Rubenstone.”

Earlier on election day, I sat down to write 3 speeches: a victory speech, a concession speech, and a speech to give in the event of an exact tie. The last speech was my longest and best. The victory speech was mostly a list of people who had my opponent’s lawn signs up, with the words “screw you” after each one. (“Hey Mr. Johnson, Screw you!…Hey Mrs. Goldfarb, Screw Your too!…etc.”) The concession speech was trickier. I wanted it to be eloquent, yet pointed. It had to be concise and pithy, yet drone on and on endlessly. I wanted it to be easily understood, but I was adamant about delivering it entirely in Farsi.

One thing I knew for sure. I wanted it to start with the words of my favorite Lincoln speech, the Gettysburg Address.

“Four score and seven years ago…”

Of course, he got to continue with that gibberish about our fathers bringing forth, on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty…yada yada yada. Nothing all that cool happened 87 years ago today. But as I started writing, I was confident I could find something to work with.

“Four score and seven years ago, our forefathers
imported the first pomegranate…”

Ok, could use a little work…I KNOW!!

“Four score and seven years ago, the Pittsburgh
Pirates obtained the rights to second baseman
Dexter Hornsby…”

I felt that this too could use some tweaking. In any event, as I contemplate making a second run in November, in a much friendlier district, where many more people will vote due to the Governor’s race, I look back and reflect on what I’ve learned in the past 8 weeks. I’ve learned that people are always thrilled to see the candidate at their door, at least until the candidate asks if he can have some cheese whiz and watch the Spice Channel on their couch for a while.

I’ve learned that hard work beats lots of money every time. And I’ve learned to tell convincing lies, like the one about hard working beating lots of money. I’ve learned that you can get a lot of support from your neighbors, particularly if they feel this might mean a move to Harrisburg for you. I was particularly touched by one of my next-door neighbor’s lawn signs: “Send Daylin to Harrisburg, for the Love of God!” I’ve learned that promising to raise taxes “out the Wazoo” is not a great applause line.

As I entered McShae’s, where our post-election party was being held, I mounted the stage to console our loyal supports, and the waiters, who know how Democrats tip. I looked out at the sea of faces, looking for words of comfort for today, and inspiration for tomorrow. This was a crucial moment for me. A hush fell over the room. I clenched my jaw, bit my lip, and began, slowly but deliberately, to speak:

“Four score and seven years ago, the advertising
world first saw a little man it came to know as the
‘Frito Bandito…'”