I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all. — Ecclesiastes 9:11
INDIANOLA — The implausible happened when a race for a legislative seat in South Mississippi ended in a tie.
Per state law, incumbent Democrat Bo Eaton and Republican challenger Mark Tullos drew straws Nov. 20 to determine the winner. Eaton won the random game and will serve another term unless Tullos wins an election challenge, which will be decided by the Republican-controlled state House.
Some are objecting to the procedure, saying it’s not a fair way to determine something as important as representation in the state Legislature.
I kind of like it, though. As the writer of Ecclesiastes said, time and chance happen to us all. Putting an election down to drawing straws illustrates that uncomfortable reality for us in a very tangible way.
Also, what do you do as an alternative?
You could hold another election, but the situation is not like an election contest where a judge can find the will of the voters couldn’t be discerned because of fraud or procedural problems; in this case, the voters’ will is clear: It’s split completely evenly.
Plus it’s going to cost counties money to hold another election for just one race.
It’s such a rare occurrence, too, that it’s not worth spending much of the Legislature’s time debating how to change it.
So let’s just draw straws and get it over with.
But if you insist on something different, I think I’ve got the perfect solution: The Legislature, which has been criticized as a boys club, could show that it has softened by adopting the same rules for settling tiebreakers as the Miss Mississippi competition. The two candidates would compete in talent, evening wear and swimwear competitions as well as an interview.
Imagine the skills we could see on display in the talent portion:
• Eloquent filibustering while juggling at the same time
• Attempting to set a new world record by shaking as many voters’ hands as possible during a three-minute span
• Taking the most innocuous comment as possible from far back in the opposing candidate’s life — something like an elementary school permanent record — and competing to see who could distort it the most to make the other one seem like an evil ogre.
• Singing the Schoolhouse Rock classic, “I’m Just a Bill (Sittin’ on Capitol Hill).”
• Impersonations of Gov. Phil Bryant’s sheriff’s deputy’s drawl, Lt. Gov. Tate Reeves’ strut, Attorney General Jim Hood’s haircut and other favorites from the colorful cast of Capitol characters.
For the interview, longtime Jackson TV man Bert Case, if his health permits, would drive up to each candidate’s house when they weren’t expecting it, cameras rolling, and pepper them with hard-hitting questions, as he famously did to former Gov. Kirk Fordice when Fordice was out walking his dog. It would make great theater.
The evening wear competition would feature the candidates in their best suits (women would have the option of choosing a dress instead) while being hosted at parties paid for by lobbyists. Scoring would be based on who could conceal the most money stuffed in envelopes on their person without making a noticeable, lumpy effect on the appearance of their evening wear.
And then we come to swimwear.
Some cringe at the thought of this, as the collective mental image of a legislator tends to be of an old, overweight man. Nobody wants to see that, but in true pageant spirit it must be done.
With looks unlikely to sway the tide in anyone’s favor considering the raw material we’re working with, the victory would go to who could do the unseemly act without shame.
Which, it so happens, is one of the most important skills a politician can possess.
