Proof Is in the Pudding… but This Recipe Is a Mess

Before we begin, let me repeat my annual public-service announcement, the one I give every election season like a Tía warning you not to trust gas station ceviche:

Endorsements almost never matter.

The only time they matter is when they come with:

• Money (and by money I mean more than $500, not “here’s gas money, good luck mijo”)

• Labor (real labor—doors knocked, phones called, repeatedly, not one Saturday cameo)

• Advertising (for you, not a group photo where you’re buried between six other names and an organization chair nobody remembers)

Other than that, endorsements are political Pokémon cards. Cute. Collectible. Utterly useless in a general election.

They exist mostly to make first-time candidates feel like they unlocked a side quest:

✨ Achievement Unlocked: Local Club Endorsement ✨

Anywho—back to the regularly scheduled dragging.

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Ay Monica Terán…

Monica Terán is running for her old job again and keeps saying “the proof is in the pudding.”

Okay. Let’s talk about the pudding.

Because if your campaign is the pudding, somebody skipped the recipe and eyeballed the measurements. This pudding recipe looks more like Rachel Ray insulting the ancestors with her attempt at tamales. Seriously, if you have a few minutes, watch that video I liked to, it's a desmadre. Rachel Ray should apologize to our entire culture. It involves a bottle of hot sauce, vegetable stock, and a rotisserie chicken...and wait til you see what she does with the masa and the "filling". 

As a former Justice of the Peace and a former educator, you should know better than most that campaign signs are not allowed on public property—specifically, Cesar Chavez school.

Don’t worry. You don’t need to rush over and move it.

I already called the district and let them know your signs were illegally placed.

I’m sure they handled it.

Educators tend to be pretty good with rules.

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Now let’s talk about those signs… 😬

These may be the worst political signs I have ever seen.

And I’ve seen some things.

They remind me of that vato in Juárez who will write your name on a grain of rice while you wait. Impressive? Maybe. Necessary? Absolutely not.

You didn’t design a campaign sign - you designed a laminated mailer with zip ties.

I have never seen a candidate try to cram so much information onto corrugated plastic.

That sign has:

• Your entire résumé

• Your educational background

• Your political philosophy

• Your astrological sign

• A shopping list for Food King on Yarbrough & Carolina

• A letter to Santa from 1982

• And I’m pretty sure a recipe for capirotada in 6-point font

It’s not a sign - it’s a Where’s Waldo of local politics.

And just when voters might start recognizing it, BOOM - there’s a second design floating around the Lower Valley.

Because consistency is overrated.

And somewhere in all that visual clutter she manages to describer herself as "humble," which is always hilarious to me - because if you actually have to tell people you're humble, you're not humble, you're just loud with low self-awareness. Humility isn't a campaign plank, it's something other people say about you ... usually when you've stopped talking about yourself.  

To make it even better, your brother is running for another office in an overlapping area, and apparently nobody stopped to think, “Hey, maybe this will confuse people?”

If this is the proof in the pudding, you might want to try a different recipe. Or at least preheat the oven.

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Speaking of bad recipes…

Let’s talk about the El Paso Young Democrats’ endorsement process, aka How to Turn a Simple Decision into a Community Theater Production.

First, credit where it’s due: EPYD is stronger and more active than it’s been in years, and that’s good for the El Paso Democratic Party. Richard Genera, the clubs president, has grown that organization and done some innovative things with the group that no one else has done, including a graduation party for their members. No other club celebrates their membership like EPYD does, and that is a fact. 

Truly, the Party is stronger when young people are engaged.

I remember being a YD when the blue hairs in the establishment treated us like absolute dog shit. Some of them are still around and I still can’t stand them because of that. 

But gente…

This endorsement process?

No mames.

They’ve managed to create the most convoluted system I’ve ever seen, featuring:

• A questionnaire

• AND a “Tournament of Champions”

I cannot tell if this is a Jeopardy! parody, a rejected Netflix pitch, or the result of watching too much Stranger Things and taking Dungeons & Dragons way too seriously.

I’ve been briefed on this before. Last time, candidates were calling me like:

“Bro… what is happening with this endorsement thing?”

I talked to their president, he explained it, and I let it go because hey - just because an idea is new doesn’t mean it’s bad.

Turns out…

It was bad.

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“More Thorough”? No. More theatrical.

Their email proudly says candidates will find the process “more thorough than other clubs in the county.”

ZAS!

First of all, I’m not sure other clubs appreciate that shade.

Second - this is not more thorough.

Thorough means deeper questions, broader analysis, better vetting.

This process isn’t thorough - it’s theatrical and cumbersome.

Here’s how it works, based on what candidates are forwarding me:

Members review questionnaires. Fine. Normal.

But then - if a member really likes a candidate - they volunteer to be that candidate’s “Champion” at the Tournament of Champions.

What does that mean?

I don’t know.

Do they joust on horseback?

Roll oddly shaped dice?

Battle a hydra?

Secure the Goblet of Fire?

What I do know is this:

Its January 21st at Old Sheep Dog Brewery at 6pm. (Not sure if candidates or spectators are supposed to come in costume, but I suppose I’ll see if I can find a toga)

The candidate doesn’t speak for themselves.

Their endorsement lives or dies based on a third party who may - or may not - know their platform, campaign, or name pronunciation. What happens if a question or an issue comes up and the “champion” doesn’t know the answer, gets it wrong, or bombs the question?

Every single candidate who has called me hates this idea but doesn’t have the heart to tell EPYD.

They’ll do it, because politics.

But privately? They hate knowing their campaign might be undone because no one volunteered to be their Champion or because their Champion rolled a natural one.

What happens if nobody picks you?

Do you just… vanish?

Side quest failed?

The whole thing is weird.

Unnecessarily complicated.

And this tournament shit makes it seem deeply unserious.

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Some parting thoughts....

Campaigns are hard enough without illegal sign placement, visual chaos, and endorsement Hunger Games.

If the proof is in the pudding, some folks need to reread the recipe - 

and others need to stop turning basic decisions into cosplay.

Sorry YDs, I love you but this is El Paso politics, not Comic-Con.