When the Vetting Gets Tough, the Vetted Start Sweating

Why I withdrew from the process (patriotism, really)

By Ed Goldman

Like North Carolina Governor Roy Cooper last week, I decided to take myself out of the vetting process for Kamala Harris’s running mate even before she made her VP decision and long before I was asked to be in it. I’m still waiting, to be frank.

I hope the history books will give me the same hail-Mary pass they’ll apparently grant to President Joe Biden for having “nobly,” “humbly” and “patriotically” bowed out of his race to be re-elected after everyone but the White House mice, houseflies and his own navel lint begged him to.

They vet thataway

I realize that, like Scranton Joe, I (Bronx Ed) may have waited until the last minute to text my regrets to Veep Harris, but I had to deal with some issues that required my legendary laser-like focus—principally, a haircut, a Rolfing session in a tot lot and a genius nap, if you’re experiencing need-to-know anxiety.

My reasons for proactively withdrawing from the vetting before it was disclosed I was enduring it was, if I say so myself, especially prudent, valiant and likely to be monetized, probably in the form of a written memoir and accompanying audio book. They include:

My having too much empathy with the working news media to make them work overtime figuring out not only what my positions on vital issues might be but also who the hell I was and why I thought anyone on God’s green earth would vet me for anything except persistent dandruff.
My desire to have this great nation under God (but these days, highly divisible) not have to withstand still another distraction in the Presidential campaign. I mean, weren’t RFK Jr.’s acid-reflux vocal cords, worm-eaten brain and stud-muffin photos enough? Remember, in the course of a week the public had to absorb Scranton Joe’s withdrawal, Queen Kamala’s coronation, the assassination attempt on Donald Trump, the capital execution of the head of the Secret Service, and Stephen Colbert taking still another damn vacation. I simply didn’t want to be responsible for adding to those stressors by forcing my fellow Americans to ask in one mighty voice, “We SAID, who hell IS he?!”

My need to spend more time with family. Since that consists of only two people in different parts of the country, I decided it could really be anybody’s family. How about yours? Do you have an unmet need for an un-vetted non-uncle? I can entertain your kids or grandkids with card tricks and bank-vault blueprints while you go off on your second honeymoon, start your sabbatical or enter the federal witness protection program.
My perhaps irrational fear of being vetted since I’m really not sure what’s involved in the process. If it’s lighthearted, like a Cosmo quiz, that would have been okay. I’d have gladly sent in early paperwork defining my turn-ons (sushi, sunsets and sincerity) and turn-offs (sushi-caused salmonella, climate change and male-pattern baldness). But if it turned out to involve medical instruments or ordering me to buy whole-life insurance or a thorough review of my browser history, I’m sure I’d have cracked under pressure.
My belief in orderly transitions, whether of power or gender. I firmly contend that when a U.S. President loses an election or resigns under pressure, he should follow the late Richard Nixon’s valorous example by moving to New Jersey, self-publishing his Foreign Policy Thoughts, playing the piano, taking walks along the seashore while wearing dress shoes and drinking himself into a nightly coma. I can’t comment on the latter point, gender transitioning, because of my ongoing fear I’m actually a guy living in a guy’s body. An out-of-shape one, at that. My country deserves better.

Ed Goldman's column appears almost every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. A former daily columnist for the Sacramento Business Journal, as well as monthly columnist for Sacramento Magazine and Comstock’s Business Magazine, he’s the author of five books, two plays and one musical (so far).