WEDNESDAY, APRIL 21, 1999

Presidential run not all that

Student elections are stupid.

I should know, I ran for president.

Besides, the elections have to be the only time one sees presidential candidates having their pathetic parents campaigning for them or T-shirts being brandished with some stupid slogan. However, I can't lie. If I had the money, you would have seen T-shirts with my ugly head and "Who Da Pimp?" on them. Or instead of "Beach Pride" it could have read "I hate voters. You're stupid." If my mom wasn't in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, she could have handed out cigarettes with my name on them while my dad could have gone to The Nugget to buy beers for the voters. Maybe it would have earned me a couple more votes.

Anyway, for the amount of effort I put in the election, I'm not really sure what I got out of it. With $20.82, I earned (I guess) 132 votes, or 4.4 percent of the vote. Yes! My goal was to try to get people who didn't vote. I think I just made them run to Toby Sexton or Robert Garcia (or at least drove them to tear down my signs).

My story in the Daily-Forty Niner and the Union (with my forget-these-stupid-sorority-and-fraternities campaign) about a week before elections didn't advance my cause, because only about 3,000 people voted. I would venture to say a lot of them were in fraternities or sororities. Because, really, who else votes? And while 3,000 people sounds like a lot, it's not - because this campus

has 28,000 people.

And when I (and my two campaign helpers, Jimmy Chai and Matt Green) put up my signs one early morning around 4 a.m., most seemed to be torn down the next day. Three dollars worth of Ralphs duct tape wasted.

The next day, a Wednesday, I had to think of a campaign speech. While Green helped me start, Forty-Niner managing editor Maria Vega helped me finish the day of the speech. I remember listening to people in suits and dresses who were very boring. However, all I seem to remember of my speech is the microphone breaking in two when I picked it up from the stand. Suddenly, I was taking a survey of who was in a fraternity. Then, I was talking but everything seemed to spin really slowly. Some drunk guy yelled my name with a cup of beer in his hand. Then, I was done.

On election day, March 24, I went to vote. It was the only day I actually campaigned. I forced two other people (Green and reporter Ingela Ringbjer) to show off my campaign picture (one with "Who Da Pimp?" the other with U Da Pimp, Idaho - get it? I da ho?) as we were strolling to the voting booth. At least my campaign team convinced a high school class walking by to vote for me.

Walking to the voting booth, I noticed Sexton's bookmarks on the ground, hanging out of telephone booths, even flying out of the sky. After arriving at the bookstore voting booth, two white guys in fraternity shirts greeted my entourage. While the Forty-Niner quoted someone saying voting would take two or three minutes, it was more like two or three hours.

Numbers corresponding to candidates didn't. Let me explain. On the voting ballot, you would punch in the candidate's number (which was supposed to be beside the candidate's name.)

However, Sexton's (with a title of A.S. Vice President) name was across from the number two. Why didn't the ballot creators start with number one? My name (without my title of world-renowned sports editor) was sort of parallel to number three ... or was it number five? It was hard to tell. I think Garcia's (with his A.S. senator title) name was close to the number 18.

The next two days, I did what any presidential candidate would do. I stayed inside and looked for interns. Actually, I worked on my sports page. I did go out at 5 p.m. Wednesday to look for voters with fellow reporter Arnold V. Cruz, but we only found poll workers and some rocks.

That night, I along with Forty-Niner editor-in-chief Rick Alonzo and other editors, went to A.S.I. looking for the results. It was anti-climatic to say the least. Where were the free tacos? The free King Cobra? At least an intern or three. But, instead we were greeted by a broken vote machine-for the second straight year. Hello?

That Friday, I found out I lost. Was I disappointed? A little. But then, I didn't really campaign. The moral, as always, is everything comes down to a T-shirt, or money.

Wes Woods II is the sports editor for the Daily Forty-Niner.