Fishwrapper - When the bug bites

I was at this Inman Park gathering of rabid environmentalists last month, listening to a guy talk about how he knows George Bush was behind the 9/11 attack.

"Oh, and how do you know?" I politely asked, suspicious that I wasn't going to like the answer.

"I channel spirits, that's how I know." (I am not making this up, by the way.)

"Uh-huh, OK, um, right," I responded. "I need some more of the delightful, strictly organic green glop spread for my crackers. See ya."

The tenacious Mr. Talk-With-Spirits was blocking my path. I feinted left, he adroitly followed my move. Trapped, I thought. Then, lo, standing before me, I saw state Rep. Doug Teper (D-Partyhearty), his bald pate (same hairstylist as me) crinkling in mirth and his eyebrows twitching with insane ambition. That's a dangerous combination. Still, whatever else one could say about Teper, he had justified his existence by giving me a plausible reason to change my venue at the cocktail party.

I like Teper. True, he's quirky, and has threatened to wallop CL's supreme editor with a beer bottle. ("I believe in the First Amendment," Teper explained, "and I believe in my right to bash practitioners of the First Amendment.") Hell, I've threatened to do worse to editors, so I can't fault him for what many would have called an attempted public service.

Teper is one of the few General Assembly members who, if he found your wallet, would return it with all the folding money — unless he was short on cash to pay his tab at Manuel's Tavern.

He has a good voting record, especially on environmental issues. He's basically "progressive," which in Georgia means he doesn't goosestep around the countryside denouncing war heroes like Max Cleland as traitors, a la Saxby Chambliss.

But Teper's eyebrows had that twitch. It was The Look. Unmistakable. Deep down, Teper believes he someday will be president of the United States. "POTUS is I," he murmurs when no one is near. At night, he surely preens in front of his mirror, gesturing in Kennedy-esque fashion and practicing his acceptance speech: "ASK not what your ... Ask NOT ... Ask not what YOUR ... ."

There's a megalomania gene common among politicians, woven into the self-delusion chromosome, which convinces almost every soul who enters the political hustings that he's destined for the highest office in the land, or at least the U.S. Senate or a governorship. Out in America's burgs and villes are thousands of city councilmen, tax commissioners, state legislators — and if dogcatchers are still elected, a few of them, too — who believe their electoral victories are sure signs that the presidency is in their future.

In politics, the Peter Principle is paramount.

How else do you explain Teper's decision to leave the state House to run for DeKalb CEO? House redistricting would have forced him to face another Democratic incumbent, but the comfortably middle-class, white Teper was an experienced campaigner in the comfortably middle-class, largely white Emory area.

And Teper had achieved a modicum of success, attaining the exalted status of a committee chairman. True, his "Journals" panel is the most obscure committee in the Legislature, with absolutely no clout, but it was good for a few perks.

Teper has liabilities. He was outed last year for overindulging in paying himself for "committee days" — essentially trying to turn the part-time legislative seat into a full-time job. And two years ago he was collared for DUI, a rap he beat and still decries as unfair. Those blemishes can be brushed aside by an incumbent — they are much more incendiary ammunition in the DeKalb CEO race where Teper is just one of the herd of candidates at this point.

I queried: Why quit? Teper mused and then said, as if in jest (it wasn't): "Destiny." There you have it. The fella already is taking reservations from his friends for the Lincoln Bedroom.

There is a practical consideration. Being a legislator means you hang out in downtown Atlanta for a few months each year, remember to say "thanks" for all of the lobster and barbecue stuffed into you by lobbyists, and — only if you're in a tiny, obsessively driven minority — actually read some of the legislation. It's a low-impact profession (unless a federal grand jury decides to look at your bank records).

The DeKalb CEO gig has only one similarity, the need to con voters into giving you the job. The CEO runs one of the larger organizations in this corner of the galaxy. He or she must be a bureaucrat, a strategist, a conciliator, a consensus builder. Teper may be known for many things, some of which aren't R-rated, but "organizational genius" isn't a description that leaps into my mind.

Nonetheless, as it stands now, I put the odds on Teper in his effort to oust incumbent Vernon Jones, who self-immolated with disclosures of eyebrow-raising real estate deals, a volatile temper and a cavalier attitude when it comes to spending taxpayer dollars on protecting his butt (or, as is more likely, protecting his private life from snooping critics). Five other candidates want to control the patronage that attends to being DeKalb CEO — but (at the risk of eating these words) they don't have a prayer.

Teper also just threw down a wonderful trump card — signing up hip-hop music impresario and film producer Dallas Austin to head his campaign. That could fracture Jones' base in DeKalb's black community. On the other hand, now that Teper is schmoozing on the star circuit, it's likely to increase his belief that he's destined for political deification.

On the scale of rampant ambition, Teper is a mere piker. Shooting right off the yardstick is U.S. Rep. Denise Majette.

A few words about Majette. When she ran for the congressional seat representing most of DeKalb County two years ago, I didn't think much of her. Her platform was basically, "I'm not Cynthia McKinney." That may have been a potent strategy to unseat the controversial McKinney, but what we didn't know was what the heck Majette stood for.

Majette was stiff and chilly, a difficult person to like. What views she did profess seemed more designed to appeal to Georgia's loopy party turncoat, Zell Miller, rather than her intended constituents in the moderate-to-liberal district.

But she grew. Boy, did she. She polished her politics, emerging as an able first-term congresswoman. Where she once was taciturn, she now is engaging. In other words, if she continued to pay her dues, she could have become a congressional power.

But, noooooo. There's that old genetic impairment. Majette decided — well, actually, the Lord commanded her, which, as we've seen with the White House squatter, is a sure signal to send for the Thorazine — that the state's citizens need her to be in the U.S. Senate. Majette forgets that this is Georgia, where a person who is 1) black, 2) female, or 3) liberal, has a hard row to hoe in a statewide race. One who is all three, however bright, honest, talented and creative, would be a miracle politician if victorious.

True, the Republican forces of darkness are under assault as the public increasingly awakens to the utter depravity of the Bush administration. But, since much of Georgia still has its clocks set on 1864, it's unlikely the tide of enlightenment will wash over our red clay and scuttle the GOP juggernaut around these parts.

So, Majette has thrown away a treasure trove of political capital. Too bad. Her only real hope is that her chief Democratic rival, Marietta rich guy Cliff Oxford, is even more bitten by the grandiose bug than she is. Oxford's credentials, as close as I can tell, are that he made a pile of money selling a business; and that his ex-wife, who in bygone days claimed she was treated as a marital piñata by Oxford (according to divorce documents), now says the alleged abuse was no big deal. Swell resume to become a world leader.

(State Sen. Mary Squires also is running for the nomination. She has exhibited idealism and principles, which, of course, dooms her shot at the U.S. Senate.)

Some people who enter politics do reach the elite club of the Senate or governor's mansion, and maybe, just maybe, have a shot at godhood. Either Johnny Isakson or Mac Collins will win the Republican nomination for the U.S. Senate. We can only hope it's the less reactionary of the two, Isakson, because whoever wins the GOP nomination will trounce the Democrat.

As final proof of my Theory of Political Devolution (the survival of the least fit in seeking higher office), I offer you Cathy Woolard. She's abandoned the Atlanta City Council presidency, where she was outstanding, to run for the congressional grail. She gave up a good shot at succeeding Shirley Franklin as mayor to jump into the race to grab the seat held by Majette.

Woolard is smart and savvy, but voters have a right to ask: Why not finish the job she started as council boss? I'm sure Woolard, whose name is welded permanently to the words "openly gay," has visions of being the first person to fly the rainbow flag at the White House.

Not surprisingly, Cynthia McKinney (who also flirted with presidential aspirations as the standard bearer for the Greens) wants her old job back, and if she can keep her dad and his anti-Semitic race baiting locked in a closet, I'd wager she'll get it.

Her most formidable opponent is likely to be former DeKalb CEO and current state Sen. Liane Levetan — who got the bug at age 70 to switch from Capitol Hill, Georgia, to Capitol Hill, D.C. About the best you can say of Levetan's aspirations is that she thinks the voters owe her a grand finale — a variation on the "I am the greatest" theme.

However the race goes (there are four other candidates, none with much traction, although two state senators could swing enough votes to make the outcome unpredictable), it's sure to split Atlanta's beleaguered liberals.

Ah, well, it's always fun to watch the pols — who in their hearts know no office is worthy of their talents — slouching toward the cliff's edge, taking that last step and thinking they're ascending the royal dais just before they plummet toward oblivion.

Senior Editor John Sugg — who says, "Why don't we save time and money and just let Halliburton and the Carlyle Group appoint the president. Oh, sorry, I forgot. They've already done that" — can be reached at 404-614-1241 or at john.sugg@creativeloafing.com.