Richardson instinctive with Iowa-flavored humor

 RED OAK — One of the reasons the British television comedy series “The Office” is so fantastically funny is that the show’s main character isn’t.

 Played brilliantly by Ricky Gervais, “The Office's" David Brent, a middle manager at a paper merchant company who fashions himself a comedian, works tireless to get laughs from his employees. He desperately wants to be a hoot, but his jokes bomb and offend.

It’s uncomfortable to watch someone force humor.

 In the 2008 presidential field, Hillary Clinton is the front-runner for the David Brent Award. She has a reverse Midas touch with comedy. Her recent attempt to “connect” with regular folk is this preposterous “American Idol”-inspired contest in which the former First Lady asks for suggestions for her campaign theme song.

“I make this solemn and sacred promise: I won’t sing it in public – unless I win,” she says in the video.

 It’s corny and forced and tone deaf.

The rest of the nation thinks we’re quite dull here in the Hawkeye State, that we’re serious as heart attacks, grim-faced pitchfork-holding types who spend our days staring into the sky waiting for it to rain.

But rural Iowans love humor. Go into any coffee shop, local eatery, bar or grain elevator. Have lunch with the Rotary or Kiwanis clubs. Customers joke with waitresses. Truck drivers joke with clerks. Old men in feed hats spend hours over 30-cent cups of coffee giving each other the business over something or another.

In our more urban areas, and the growing spirit-crushing suburbs, there are a lot Hillary Clintons. She's rushing to the White House. They're rushing to Bed, Bath & Beyond. 

 But in my part of the state, western Iowa, the place where the caucuses will be decided, naturally folksy humor goes a long way.

Of the top four Democratic candidates in the race, Bill Richardson, the New Mexico governor, is most natural with a Sunday lemonade-brand of spontaneous humor. It’s instinctive for him, and it’s one of the reasons he’s climbing in the polls. He’s disarming. The jokes get people to see past the suit and tie and title and platoon of earnest young staffers.

 “We hit 10 percent,” Richardson said Saturday in Red Oak. “That’s pretty good for having been at the margin of error.”

Richardson noted that New Mexico now has eight movies being made in the state.

“One of the conditions is that I have to star in all of them,” he joked, with a wink to the fact that's he's a few pounds ahead of leading man fighting weight.

Near the end of his visit to Red Oak, Richardson tapped the shoulder of a woman sitting next to him while making a point about education.

 The woman clearly hadn’t been paying full attention to his remarks and was a little startled.

“Did I wake you up?” said Richardson with a wide smile. He tapped his watch and said, “I’ll finish soon.”

 In Denison a few weeks ago Richardson said he signed a smoking ban in New Mexico but exempted cigar bars. He shrugged and told the audience, “Hey, I’m a cigar smoker.”

Richardson talks about how he will work on Iraq the first day he’s in office, energy independence the next, and health-care and education on the third day.

“The fourth day,” he says, pausing. “I’ll take off.”

 That line works on so many levels.

The new advertisements in which Richardson sits down for a job interview for the presidency with a rude, sandwich-chomping “employer,” are more humorous than much of the material late-night comics produce.

Another reason humor works well for Richardson: There’s little danger the use of it will make him seem an unserious person. Richardson has arguably the best resume of any candidate for the presidency in the nation’s history: Governor, congressman, United Nations ambassador and Secretary of Energy.

As Richardson hits the small towns of Iowa, pays h
is due the old-fashioned way, he’ll make many Iowans comfortable with him. He comes across as a person who genuinely likes people. The same cannot be said of all candidates.