"And I think musicians can better run this state than politicians. And, hell, beauticians can better run the state than politicians"
About this Quote
Kinky Friedman’s line lands like a barroom punchline, then lingers like an indictment. On the surface it’s a roast of politicians; underneath it’s a populist theory of competence. By putting “musicians” and “beauticians” ahead of elected officials, Friedman isn’t arguing that songwriting or haircuts are policy credentials. He’s arguing that politics, as practiced, has become its own skill-less trade: a profession optimized for fundraising, branding, and evasive speech rather than results.
The construction matters. “And I think” performs a casual shrug, a down-home preface that disarms the audience before the knife goes in. Then he escalates from musicians (his tribe, plausible in a celebrity-candidate era) to beauticians (a deliberately unexpected, feminized, service-industry job). That second move is the point: it’s not vanity casting, it’s contempt for the political class so strong that nearly any working professional who deals with real people and real consequences looks preferable.
Contextually, Friedman’s brand has always been Texas-wisecrack-meets-outsider politics, especially around his 2006 run for governor. The quote functions as campaign rhetoric and cultural critique at once: a vote for him becomes a vote against a system that feels insulated and self-protecting. The subtext is less “elect me” than “stop mistaking the ability to talk for the ability to govern.” The humor makes the cynicism portable; you can repeat it at a diner, and suddenly distrust of institutions sounds like common sense.
The construction matters. “And I think” performs a casual shrug, a down-home preface that disarms the audience before the knife goes in. Then he escalates from musicians (his tribe, plausible in a celebrity-candidate era) to beauticians (a deliberately unexpected, feminized, service-industry job). That second move is the point: it’s not vanity casting, it’s contempt for the political class so strong that nearly any working professional who deals with real people and real consequences looks preferable.
Contextually, Friedman’s brand has always been Texas-wisecrack-meets-outsider politics, especially around his 2006 run for governor. The quote functions as campaign rhetoric and cultural critique at once: a vote for him becomes a vote against a system that feels insulated and self-protecting. The subtext is less “elect me” than “stop mistaking the ability to talk for the ability to govern.” The humor makes the cynicism portable; you can repeat it at a diner, and suddenly distrust of institutions sounds like common sense.
Quote Details
| Topic | Sarcastic |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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