This week, America is in awe at the way Iowa managed to mess up the caucuses.
Back here in the Sunshine State, though, we just chuckle.
Because nobody can screw up an election like Florida.
Seriously, it’s cute that Iowans might have to take a week to get their final results.
In 2000, we were still counting ballots when we had to break for Thanksgiving. And then it was another two weeks. Half my advent calendar was open before the Supreme Court put us out of our misery on Dec. 12.
Iowa says: We didn’t think it was possible to mess up an election this badly.
Florida says: Hold my beer.
It wasn’t just 2000. Bumbling elections is a hobby here. In our very last election, voting systems in several counties were hacked.
Which counties? We have no freakin’ clue! More than a year later, members of Florida’s congressional delegation still aren’t sure.
I mention all this by way of saying this: If America is OK with a state botching its elections, then it’s time for Iowa to step aside.
Let Florida go first!
The Iowa caucuses, after all, are one of the goofiest traditions in American politics.
People who want to lead the free world try to win over voters — who are totally unrepresentative of America at large — by stuffing corn dogs and pork patties into their faces and promising billions of tax dollars for corn subsidies.
That’s not how you should win the White House. It’s how you win a speed-eating competition at a county fair.
Florida is a much better representation of America than Iowa.
Iowa’s population looks like the crowd at a Barry Manilow concert. We’re talking 90% white.
Now, I have nothing against white people. Four of them live in my house.
Our family reunions are littered with white people. Seriously, you can’t throw a Birkenstock or empty White Claw can without smacking some lily-white relative in his or her pasty forehead.
But if we’re going to try to pick a president for all of America, we should start with a state that looks like all of America.
And few states are more American than Florida. We’re diverse! We’re evenly split on politics! We wear tank tops to christenings and graduation ceremonies.
You want to pick a state that’s reflective of the good ol’ U.S. of A? Well, how about the one that hosts the Daytona 500, the Super Bowl and the Sopchoppy Worm Gruntin’ Festival.
At this point, some Hawkeyes usually start whining about what an integral part of the electoral process their state is — how their residents take the time to truly study the issues and meet with the candidates.
Except here’s the thing: Hardly any of them actually do that.
Turnout in the Iowa caucuses looks more like the alcohol content of a glass of chardonnay — around 16%.
(At least that’s what it was in 2016. Iowa isn’t even sure who won this year’s caucuses, much less how many people voted.)
Florida’s 2016 primary turnout was 46%.
Did we know what we were doing? Heck no! A disturbing number of us voted for Ted Cruz. And some guy named Martin O’Malley, who I’m still not convinced was actually running.
But you know what? We showed up!
And we didn’t play favorites either. Just ask Jeb Bush and Marco Rubio, who got their Floridian clocks cleaned by Donald Trump.
Rubio may have mocked Trump for having “small hands” and a “spray tan” in February. But by March, Little Marco was marching in whatever direction those tan hands pointed … and hasn’t stopped marching since.
By now, maybe I’ve convinced my fellow Floridians that we should be first in line for the 2024 primaries. But I know there’s another crowd that needs convincing — the media elite.
To those people, I ask a simple question: Would you rather interview Bernie Sanders in a corn field that’s 10 degrees or standing on South Beach where it’s 81?
I’m talking to you, Anderson Cooper. We have a tank top waiting.
Really, how much of a success can Iowa’s caucuses be when many pundits now say that one of the biggest winners was Michael Bloomberg — a guy who skipped them altogether?
In reality, I think the best idea is a rotating schedule of early-primary states. Maybe Florida, Minnesota and Arkansas go first one cycle. The next, it’s Oregon, West Virginia and Arizona. You get a mix that changes every four years.
But if we’re sticking with one state, Florida deserves a chance.
We may not have our electoral act together. But the weather’s nice. We mirror America’s demographics.
And let’s face it: The race often comes down to us anyway. So if you’re going to end up waiting around in mid-November while we recount our votes, dangle our chads and try to guess which counties got hacked, you might as well see what we think in the first place.
