Andrew Cuomo is safe: safe as houses, blue-chip stocks, or a bet on a warm day in July. In much the same way as swallows return to Capistrano, or searchers return to Google, Mario’s Kid bucked the tide last night and returned to his seat as governor. He did so by running the least inspiring, most self-centered campaign in modern memory. After greasing up the Working Families Party with a set of well-polished lies, New York’s foremost navel-gazer and non-contender for the Presidency spent a jillion dollars in advertising while sitting at home gagging on whatever canned delight Sandra Lee put on the table. By which I mean, he did fuck-all for the down ticket, though the Times puts it more gently:
But after winning his primary in September, Mr. Cuomo proved to be a less-than-energetic campaigner for Senate Democrats, sparing in his endorsements and rarely stumping for embattled incumbents or hopefuls. And on Tuesday, it seemed likely that the liberal wing of the Democratic Party would lay heavy blame at the feet of the governor, who was easily re-elected to a second term.
Yes, Andrew is safe, and the New York State Senate is safely in Republican hands, and all is well in the money party. Gazing in my crystal ball, I see a wedding to Ms. Lee, a less-than-energetic Presidential run, a Cabinet seat in the Clinton Administration and, finally, retirement after a few years as a board member at Goldman-Sachs. Unless Andrew chokes on a Corn Nut in one of Sandra’s Kwanzaa Cakes, he will live a long, safe life untroubled by the messy business of campaigning for anyone but himself. He is the kind of Democrat that brings us election nights like last night, and there are far too many of his kind in the party.