Nancy Spark, 51
President & CEO of Creative Spark/Campaign Manager
We've met Nancy before. She was the receptionist for Suresh, the marketing guru who coined the name Shirlé. Suresh was strangled to death by Banyan Bradford — he described Nancy as warm and welcoming with a smile that was "like a hot chocolate hug from Mom" — and Nancy picked up where her old boss and mentor left off, starting her own marketing company.
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What made you want to become involved in politics?
Running a political campaign was something that Suresh had always wanted to try. He was obsessed with the idea that the principles of marketing work in any setting. He believed that it didn't matter whether the product was cat food or a candidate for the the most powerful position on the planet, it's all the same thing. I was interested in seeing if that was true.
And was it?
Oh, yes! To a disturbing degree, honestly.
So you weren't supporting Clem because you were personally invested in him?
Good Lord, no! But Suresh also taught me — and this, honestly, I found very difficult — you should never let yourself become emotional about the product. That leads to bad decision making. Trust the data.
So what kind of "product" was Candidate Clem?
A challenging one. It was no secret that Clem could be problematic. He was a misogynist and a racist and a sexual deviant, but he also had some liabilities.
Misogyny, racism and sexual deviance aren't liabilities?
Not at all! To the contrary, they were the key to Clem's popularity.
But his beliefs were appalling!
Yes, and the majority of voters agreed with you.
I don't understand. If voters were so appalled, how did it help?
Research shows that, more than anything, voters yearn for authenticity. They're tired of formatted candidates always saying the right thing.
So you're saying they want a candidate who says the wrong thing?
In essence you are correct. Anyone can tell you what you want to hear, but Clem — to use a phrase that kept popping up in focus groups — "tells it like it is."
But it wasn't like it is.
They know that. And that's why they think he is authentic.
That seems bizarre to me.
I know! Aren't people fascinating?
I guess. So in what way was Clem problematic?
Well, two things, really. First, while authenticity is the coin of the realm, as it were, it turns out there is such a thing as being too authentic.
How so?
For instance, Clem would give interviews while peeing in the kitchen sink.
Why in the kitchen sink?
Because he was also be eating a meatball sub at the same time. And when he got passionate about a point he was making, he'd spray everywhere. It was like when you drop a garden hose and it just goes crazy.
That's... unpleasant.
He was also weirdly proud of his hemorrhoids. He'd drop his pants and show people. "Have you every seen one bleed that much? Damn straight, you haven't!"
Yikes.
He also was not good with children. When he'd see a little boy he'd knock him down and when the boy cried, Clem would say, "Toughen up, buttercup!"
That's bad.
And with little girls, he'd ask, "How old are you?" And the girl would say, "I'm six." And he'd say, "Call me in ten years."
That's worse.
But all that paled in comparison to his biggest sin.
Which was what?
He didn't have what you'd call stage presence.
Why not?
Because he was never present on the stage.
Where was he?
I don't know. And neither did he.
Looks like Clem's black-out drinking was a bit of a double edge sword.
Indeed. On the one hand, his excessive alcohol consumption polled rather well—
Seriously?
It made him relatable.
Of course it did.
And people will forgive a lot, but there is a breaking point.
And where is that?
When they are personally inconvenienced. They were not happy when Clem stood them up.
Clem told me that you had really helped his campaign.
I did. I produced some good ads, I got Clem some important endorsements, and best of all, I got him to show up.
How did you do that?
I changed the venues. Instead of town halls and high school auditoriums, it was distilleries and and brothels.
Clever.
Thank you.
So I guess you were very disappointed when Clem became a zombie.
What makes you say that?
Because you had to end the campaign.
Why would I do that?
Because he wasn't going to run for president as a zombie.
Why not?
Because he's a zombie.
And?
And... he isn't the same.
That's right, he's infinitely better!
How so?
It allowed us to hit the reset button with the voting public. Because once you become a zombie, your previous misdeeds don't matter anymore. It's kind of like getting amnesia or becoming born again. A fresh start.
And as a campaign manager, I no longer have to worry about all the women he exposed himself to because that was his former life. I don't have to worry about his behavior. He's not going to slip and say the N-word or the C-word or get caught up in a sex scandal. An eating-the-flesh-of-the-living scandal, maybe — probably — almost certainly — but that will just remind zombie voters that he is one of them.
Zombie voters?
If zombies are people, it naturally follows that zombies can vote.
Oh, boy.
And thus far, zombies have been extremely receptive to Zombie Clem's message.
Which is?
Rrrrrr!
Of course.
You must admit: It's effective.
It's pithy. But it doesn't really mean anything to anyone.
Or maybe... it means everything to everyone.
I don't understand.
OK. In 2008, Barack Obama ran for president on the slogan, "Yes, We Can." Did that mean anything?
You bet it did! It meant, yes we can... um... do stuff. Good stuff. Smart stuff. Cool black guy stuff.
Now, you may not remember this, but in 2004, George W. Bush ran for reelection on the slogan, "Yes, America Can."
I do not remember that.
All right, but what did that slogan mean?
It meant, yes, we can... um... do stuff. Bad stuff. Dumb stuff. Lame white guy stuff.
Exactly. It meant whatever you wanted it to mean. Two vastly different candidates with vastly different policy agendas used the virtually identical slogan, and won their elections by appealing to completely different voting blocs. It's not the message, it's the messenger.
I get what you're saying, but this is different.
Why?
Because in this case — and I'm sorry I keep beating this undead horse — the messenger is a zombie.
And that is a drawback because...?
He only appeals to zombies.
Focus groups disagree. People think that Rrrrrr! conveys strength and shows that he shares the frustrations of the average person in these trying times.
But the times are trying because of zombies... and he's a zombie.
Yes! Who better to solve zombie problems than an actual zombie?
But... Zombie Clem doesn't know anything.
I think it is fairly well-documented that knowing things is a vastly overrated commodity in electoral politics.
Fair enough. But how, exactly, will zombies be able to vote?
We've been working on that. Zombies have an excellent sense of smell, so we're going to be spraying the ballots with different scents and they'll vote for their favorites.
But Zombie Clem doesn't even know he's running for office. I mean, you can't have a president who doesn't know that he's president!
Tell that to second term Reagan.
And in any case, doesn't it make more sense to vote for Marietta?
Of course it does. I shudder to think what a Zombie Clem administration would wreak!
So why are you trying to get Zombie Clem elected?
It's my job. And besides, Marietta is unelectable.
Why?
A lot of people are mad at Marietta for turning Clem into a zombie.
But she didn't.
Our TV ads suggest otherwise.
You must know that's not true.
It's not about truth. It's about effectiveness, and let me tell you it polls incredible well.
No offense, but you sound like a sociopath.
I know! Suresh would be so proud!