COUNCIL BLUFFS — “We brought you a sampling of the crap we get,” Bob Krivanek said as I joined him and his wife Brenda at their table at the Golden Corral. “Thought you might find it interesting.”
It was a stack of glossy political pamphlets from former President Donald Trump, former U.N. Ambassador Nikki Haley, Gov. Ron DeSantis (R-FL), and Vivek Ramaswamy — and a few from Ryan Binkle, a businessman and preacher who is running a very distant fifth in the state.
The stack included 20 mailers, door hangers, and handouts, which is just what Bob and Brenda had received in “the last couple days.” Once they and I had hatched our plan for a lunch meeting, the Krivaneks stopped tossing the mailings straight into the trash and held on to them so I could see what it’s like being an Iowan in a caucus year.
Life here in the weeks before the caucuses is a constant barrage of ads, robocalls, door knocks, and mailers. The ads and the literature are largely negative, too.
DeSantis had more than $47 million spent against him in negative advertising, and much of it was spent in Iowa. “Ron DeSantis’s Immigration Policy is Unsafe,” declares one mailer from Haley’s Stand for America SuperPAC. “Tell Ron DeSantis you don’t want any taxpayer dollars supporting illegal immigrants.”
Haley and Trump each had more than $20 million spent against them. Whether it’s the negativity, or just the sheer volume, the barrage grates on the nerves of many Iowans.
When the cold temperatures canceled the Trump and DeSantis rallies in Sioux City, Steve, the old guy at the bar at Bob Roe’s, was relieved. “Good,” he said. “Give the public a little break. It’s all you hear about.”
“I have people calling me every day,” Steve said, “and it’s a recording.”
“The worst part of this Iowa caucus thing is six or seven phone calls every day,” said Bill, the old guy at the end of the bar at Buffalo Alice’s on historic 4th Street. “It starts in the morning at 9 o’clock. (Thank God it doesn’t start earlier because I don’t get out of bed before then.) And then it goes on all day, every day.”
It’s robocalls from the candidates and surveys from pollsters.
Steve at Bob Roe’s hates the barrage of mail, ads, and calls because he doesn’t really care about politics. “I didn’t know what a caucus was. I had to ask someone. I thought it was some kind of animal.”
Bill at Buffalo Alice tosses the mail straight in the trash. “I’m a Trumper,” he said flatly. He’s not undecided and doesn’t need to hear anyone’s messaging.
Then there are the television ads. A 45-year-old waiter at Bob Roe’s said he last caucused in 2008, not for Bob Roe’s patron Barack Obama, but for John Edwards (“before the scandals,” the waiter assured me). Working in a sports bar, he’s exposed to the TV ads from the candidates and super PACs 8 hours a day.
The waiter advocated we adopt “how they do it Canada. The candidates can only campaign for 60 days, and they can only spend the money allocated them by the government.” I noted that Canada doesn’t have a First Amendment, and the U.S. does. “Sure, but how annoying is it to have to listen to these ads for a year?” he asked.
During the broadcast of the Browns-Texans playoff game Saturday at Buffalo Wild Wings, one commercial break was nothing but political ads. First, it was a pro-Nikki Haley ad attacking DeSantis for sucking up to Trump, then it was a Trump ad, then it was a DeSantis ad, and finally, it was a Ryan Binkley ad.
My readers who are not political reporters and are not Iowans may, by now, be a little perplexed at repeated mentions of Binkley. No normal person outside of Iowa has heard of this man, but even disengaged Iowans know who he is.
When I say the name Ryan Binkley to Bill, he instantly recognizes it. “Yes, he’s running for president. I think he’s pretty low down [in the polls], though, isn’t he?”
CLICK HERE TO READ MORE FROM THE WASHINGTON EXAMINER
Steve, back at Bob Roe’s, brought up Binkley unprompted. “Here’s what I don’t understand: That preacher, Binkley — he don’t have a chance in hell. Why is he spending all that money? Is he a millionaire? And he’s spending it on that? If I were a millionaire, I’d be just fine,” Steve said, signaling to the stretch of the bar he occupied and would continue occupying if fortune gave him a fortune.
Patty is the bartender at Bob Roe’s. Probably about 70 years old, Patty, always cheery in the face of bad weather, rude customers, mess-ups by the waitresses, or whatever comes her way. When Steve and the waiter started complaining too much about the barrage, Patty turned to me and smiled: “Hey, at least I have mail coming to me every day.”