Mugshot for mayor: a sense of humor required

Jessica
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I often struggle with deciding if my ideas are genuinely good or just plain bad, but they tend to be exciting, at the very least.

Since my children were babies, I have supplemented my income by selling eggs and art at farmers’ markets in Socorro, Magdalena, Santa Rosa and Taos. At first, they accompanied me swaddled and strapped to my back, and later they helped as I worked.

Gradually, they learned how to set up the booth, assist customers and count change. Once they were old enough to sell on their own, I stepped back and let them continue the tradition.

Over this summer, my teenager was selling eggs along with his t-shirts, hats and other homemade merchandise at the market, but when the egg production halted due to some stray pigs eating all the goods, his business slowed down and he’d come home without any sales.

While we were brainstorming ideas for new products, I was shuffling through a print order that had come in the mail. I was grumbling over the fact that I had somehow ordered half a dozen of the same photo; they were 8x10 prints of Mugshot, our mini donkey.

My son began making a mess with the scissors and glue, and that’s how the Mugshot for Mayor poster was born.

Of course, the idea wasn’t to have a real political campaign, but a lighthearted, fun way to promote business. The posters turned into bumper stickers, and with interest from the community it quickly grew into something more.

When people caught on, we realized Mugshot for Mayor wasn’t just a shameless way to promote sales; it had transformed into a way to promote all the village businesses, events and animal welfare.

The idea isn’t original. Walter the wonder donkey has been the honorary mayor of Oatman, Arizona, since 2020. Oatman, similar to Magdalena, was once a booming mining town, but with the closures of the gold mines after World War II, their population plummeted. Now the town is famously known for its traffic jams of wild burros that attract half a million international tourists a year.

Colorado has also famously used burros post-World War II as a way to boost its economy. They held the first official burro race in 1949 between Leadville and Fairplay, an event that has only grown with enthusiasm over the years. The sport of burro racing is a formal series that has gained official state recognition as the official summer heritage sport.

Many small towns across the United States have had their share of unconventional non-human mayors, including goats, cats, dogs, and even mules. The stories about these pet mayors range from playful pranks to the goat that won unofficially through write-in votes. Here in New Mexico, the town of Corrales hosts an annual event to elect a pet mayor.

With Mugshot’s surprise second-place finish at the Cerrillos burro race, our hometown burro stampede and training for the next burro race in Silver City, I’ve admittedly been a little high on the whole donkey scene.

Additionally, last month brought the announcement of a New Mexico burro race series for next year, with four locations: Cerrillos, Magdalena, Silver City, and one more mining town, the name of which we are anxiously awaiting.

All I know for sure is that the events I have attended with donkeys have an undeniable sense of joy. Go ahead and call me old-fashioned, but it’s just clean family fun. If you’ve been to one, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Mugshot had already proven to be a charismatic entertainer, outgoing and friendly. And when we were asked if Mugshot could do a meet and greet, we enthusiastically agreed. Dozens of people took photos with Mugshot and gave him all the attention he craves. He made so many people smile that day and I was blown away by how many creative ass jokes I heard.

At the last minute, we had the idea to set up donations for the local Friends of the Animals, and I was pleasantly surprised by the overwhelming support in donations we collected.

Unlike real politics that tends to divide people, I realized that Mugshot could be an opportunity to bring communities together.

Let me be clear that Mughsot for mayor is not a political campaign; it’s a celebration of our heritage and an effort towards a better future. We can’t deny that living in rural areas in New Mexico is challenging and places like Magdalena have seen its fair share of hardship, business closures and abandoned buildings over the years.

Over the generations, my family, all in their own ways, have contributed to the betterment of Magdalena and had a deep dedication to a thriving community. Maybe I’m being a dumb ass, but I figure this could count as my small way to continue the fight for my community.

This is what it comes down to: I want my children to have a hometown they are proud of and want to come back to. I recognize that a donkey “running for mayor” isn’t the answer to everything, but maybe Mugshot for mayor is the kind of movement we need.

We live in a time when we are bombarded with information, stress and pressure, and taking care of our mental health needs to be a priority. Just turning on the TV can put the best of us in a bad mood. All I’m saying a little equine therapy couldn’t hurt.

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