Guest Commentary by Kent Carlson
The Lug’s Big Life
Anyone following Iowa politics knows Chet Culver has big problems. His staff has been disappearing from his office faster than a Monster ThickBurger. And his poll numbers are melting away like a Buster Bar at the Midway. At 19 percent, Culver’s very favorable rating equals Nancy Pelosi’s and Harry Reid’s combined, but numbers like that won’t cut the fat in Iowa. As a result of excessive state spending, Culver has had to slice budgets, lay off employees and declare unpaid furloughs for state workers. Meanwhile, he is lobbying the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission on behalf of promoters attempting to expand casino operations in the state. Those same four promoters have donated about $100,000 in campaign contributions to Culver. Of course, Culver has always found big, juicy contributions irresistible. That’s why the man who started Iowa’s biggest real estate company was Chester’s biggest political contributor. When it comes to campaign war chests, big is good. But sadly, the Big Lug has discovered money can’t buy you love. Or in his case, even like.
It seems Culver’s campaign has derailed faster than his plan for passenger rail service in Iowa. So now he’s trying desperately to get back on track and gain some steam. Desperate times call for desperate measures, which may explain how the Lug’s name has been frequently mentioned in the reality television industry. Sources close to Culver’s inner circle have admitted that representatives of the Big Lug have been in talks with Los Angeles-based TV executives.
Television executives initially thought Culver would be a perfect fit for the “Biggest Loser.” The show is seen in 90 countries and could give Culver the kind of mass exposure he was looking for. But those closest to Culver convinced him that exposing his mass might not be a good thing. And, of course, the show’s name, no matter how prophetic, probably isn’t the best choice for someone running for political office.
At that point it was suggested that Culver should give “Undercover Boss” a shot. After all, the state is in dire straits. And there was an off chance Culver might actually learn something about state government from the perspective of a lowly state employee. After screening the “Hooters” episode in which a manager made his waitresses eat plates of beans without using their hands before letting them off their shifts, the idea was canned. Staffers reminded the governor of a similar episode when he was Secretary of State involving interns, buttery corn cobs and the Lug wearing chaps and a ten-gallon hat.
It was about this time when Chester himself remembered that Iowans Shawn Johnson and Cloris Leachman were both big hits on “Dancing With The Stars.” Though Shawn Johnson had just won a gold medal at the Olympics, her star power grew brighter from her appearance on the show. And even though Cloris Leachman was 82 years old and lost every round, she won the hearts of millions. So a low-key tryout was arranged following Culver’s surprise trip to Iraq in February. During the hour-long session, Culver’s attempt at a Travolta-style disco split ended in a rupture. Chet was forced to hang up his dancing shoes and strap on a truss.
But as fate would have it, the doctor who treated Culver’s rupture was also Kirstie Alley’s gastric bypass surgeon. The doctor told Chet about her new show “Kirstie Alley’s Big Life” and gave Chester her number. Before the day was out, a meeting was arranged. The two were amazed to find out how much they had in common. They both have two kids, they both have issues with the media and they both love Boston Cream pies. On her reality show, Kirstie said she hired her handyman, Jim, because he is fatter than her. However, they both since started weight loss programs. This opened the door of opportunity for Chet. On the show, the Lug will play a somewhat oafish, overweight, Midwestern governor named “The Big Lug” who is so desperate to hold on to his job that he contacts Alley’s production company in an attempt to star in a reality show and boost his poll numbers.
Reality shows are stranger than fiction. You just can’t make this stuff up. CV
Kent Carlson is a native Iowa artist interested in the preserving Iowa’s architectural heritage and the common sense of its leaders. And he writes a few columns for Cityview, too.
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