By Jack Cashill
Watching the shenanigans in the still contested New Jersey gubernatorial election, I have to wonder whether there has ever been a truly honest election in state history. From my own experience, I would say probably not and, as I also learned, there are a thousand ways to cheat.
In 1982, through an odd sequence of events, I found myself with a ringside seat on a routinely crooked Newark mayoral election. I had been offered a job as “associate director” of the 1,000-employee Newark Housing and Redevelopment Authority. This being a recession year, and I needing to finish my Ph.D. dissertation, I took it. This was not a career move.
I had two qualifications that endeared me to the Philippine-born woman who ran the show: I lived in Newark public housing growing up, and I aced her borderline illegal IQ test. An elitist whose role model was the then little-known Imelda Marcos, my “Imelda” took me under her wing.
I put “associate director” in quotes because I was actually the shadow associate director. Imelda hired me to intimidate the real associate director, a political enemy that Imelda and her boss – Judge Milton Buck, a Black politico — could not fire. This was the only time in my life I kept a journal. My notes from day two on the job:
Met late in the day with Imelda. Very candid about self. Style “combative,” learned in trenches. Very smart. Needs to talk about it. Met Judge. Discussed role. Purposely keeping me in dark to confuse opposition, keep them on their toes.
Welcome to Newark, the gateway to Third World living. more
On election night, that asshole Phil Murphy was cool as a cucumber.
Even when down by 100k votes.
It was in the bag and the motherfucker knew it.
Might as well accepted the re-election before the polls closed.
“I found 12,000 lost ballots… And… gosh… They’re all for me!”
– democrat making his own luck, with help from the compliant media and corrupt courts.
If your the winner it’s a fair election, but if you lose it’s crooked.
Dream on.