don’t vote for this man. period.

so. one of my many privileges as an employee of the Charleston Gazette was typing up info for the voters’ guide. here’s how it works: we send out these questionnaire-type deals to people who are registered to run for public office. basic stuff like education and work experience, plus a couple of issue-related questions. we ask them to fill the form out and return them by a certain date if they want to have their answers printed in the voters’ guide — a way for people to “get to know them” before elections. the thing about this is that between the mailing in of the forms and the printing of the voters’ guide, someone has to type all of that information into the system in a specific format. and that person is, you guessed it, yours truly.

though it was a somewhat tedious process, I really learned a lot from typing the voters’ guide for the city elections last year. mostly, that all but a blessed few of the candidates were idiots. or just cracked. one of those candidates is a man named Louis P. Cervone, who has run for the house of delegates three times and, thank God, never been elected. I have been told that he’s a nutcase, and have witnessed his odd behavior first hand when he’s come into the newsroom to try and talk to Haught, editor extraordinaire, and Sue the incredibly-amazing office manager has staved him off. but never have I personally encountered the oddity that is Louis P. Cervone — until tonight.

Hannah and I went to Taylor Books tonight. everyone knows how I feel about their coffee, but the atmosphere’s nice and the music’s usually good. so we went. ran into the entire Stonestreet family minus the parental units and had a nice mini-catch up. then Hannah and I were sitting there with our coffee, chatting and listening to the music, when I noticed a vaguely familiar looking guy sitting a few tables away. a few minutes later I remembered who he was and quietly told Hannah that he was a crazy guy who’d run for office multiple times. a few minutes after that, he started talking to this guy at the table next to him and it was obvious that he’d had a bit too much wine. and a few minutes after that, he got up, took a few steps, and plopped himself down at the extra seat at our table.

“you remind me of,” he slurred, pausing, resting his chin in his hands. “but you couldn’t be…”
I just looked at him.
“I mean, you really couldn’t be… but you just look like her… I’m really a good guy. tell me about yourself.”

I was just… stunned. this point in the conversation is when Mean Lydia usually comes out and gets rid of the creepy guy who’s trying to talk to me. but Mean Lydia is apparently on vacation, because my mind went completely blank. I just looked at him, and looked at Hannah, and said something brilliant like, “um…”
he followed that up with “like, how old are you?” I looked at Hannah, “you can tell me the truth, I’m a good guy,” he said.
I was on the verge of saying “15″ and I’m not sure why I didn’t. or why I didn’t say “none of your business.” again with the stunned, bowled over, weirded out. so I quietly said, “19″ and was trying to figure out how to leave. his comment? “well that’s old enough…”
and then my sister did something smart and opened up her phone and had this great conversation: “hi. yeah, what’s going on? oh no, it’s no big deal — yeah, we’ll come. yes, we’ll be there really soon.” closed the phone, said “we gotta roll,” and we stood up and walked out.

he’s 52. you know, I’ve always gone for older men, but 52 is pushing it. check out his myspace page for a closer look at the crackedness. and if you’re one of those people who go to vote on election day and end up voting for random names on the ballot because you’re not sure which one to pick, now you know. don’t vote for Louis.