Political snowball merely starts in Iowa

Many things baffle me. Such as, how can I hit so many red lights?

On my deathbed, I want the final red-versus-green total presented to me, just to see if my suspicions are correct that the reds were wildly disproportionate. It’d make me feel better in my final moments knowing I wasn’t paranoid.

But even that is a minor vexation compared to the attention given the Iowa caucuses. Not that it’s a surprise -- we do this dance every four years. Otherwise razor-sharp political reporters head off for the cornfields and mini-metropolises to see how Iowa voters take to the candidates.

And though I keep waiting for the national press to announce some year that it’s all a giant put-on, they never do.

Instead, they tell us how important Iowa is.

You’ve probably picked up on the fact that the caucuses are Thursday night; that’s right, Bunky -- caucusers, like trick-or-treaters, only go out after dark. No daylong chance to vote.

Like trick-or-treaters, caucusers show up in relatively small numbers. Reuters news service noted that only 6% of the state’s eligible voters took part in 2004. It should be higher this year, because the field is wide open and with a juicier roster of candidates, but seriously, when was the last time you cared what someone from Cedar Rapids thought about presidential selection?

I say this as a Midwestern boy. I grew up in Nebraska and have absolutely no bone to pick with Iowans. The state is indispensable, especially if you’re driving from Omaha to Chicago.

Nor is it Iowa’s fault that everyone descends on it. They just hold the caucuses; they don’t make anyone show up.

But the candidates show up, early and often, and the press follows. Or is it that the candidates show up because the press says it’s important? It’s a chicken-and-egg thing.

The Hawkeye State matters, we’re told, because it stages the first candidate revue. Here’s how “vital” Iowa is in the national scheme of things: It has almost the same number of people as Orange County.

Yet it’s Iowa that separates the political wheat from the chaff.

The question is, why? It sure isn’t because the candidates covet the state’s seven electoral votes come November. In fact, does any candidate ever return to Iowa after caucus season?

They go to Iowa in the winter because they’re supposed to. They have to.

They know that the political press wants to declare winners and losers, and no one wants to be left out.

Do well in Iowa and you’re off to . . . New Hampshire!

What better proof of presidential timber than to sweep Iowa and New Hampshire? If a candidate could add Delaware and Alaska to the mix, he or she could claim a national small-state mandate.

The Iowa frenzy wouldn’t be nearly as nutty if they actually had an election. Instead, they have the caucuses, which resemble the way you voted for student council members when you were in eighth grade:

“Everybody for Mary, go stand in front of the blackboard. Everyone for Larry, go stand next to the flag in the back of the room. If you’re for Kim, gather by the teacher’s desk.”

That’s how they do it. Someone can make a spiel for each candidate. There’s no secret ballot. You don’t even put your head down on your desk. And if Kim’s group doesn’t meet a minimum percentage of supporters, her group can splinter off to Mary or Larry’s group.

Same in Iowa. You might show up as a Joe Biden supporter and end up shaking hands with the John Edwards people. It may not mean you like him; it just may mean you don’t want to stand with the Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama people.

Iowa matters? When you review the list of caucus winners in the last 35 years, the names are largely the familiar ones. Jimmy Carter in 1976 is the only “sleeper” it produced, and people forget he came in second to an “uncommitted” slate.

In short, we haven’t needed Iowa to show the way.

Still, we’ll watch Thursday night. We’ll hear how momentum has either been established or stifled, even though the outcome was the product of a silly system that no one would take seriously if it weren’t the kickoff presidential event.

I’m a political junkie, so I’ll tune in. That doesn’t mean I won’t be yapping all night long about perspective and being bugged when candidates are written off because they didn’t impress a fraction of Iowa voters.

And I’ll do what I do every four years when Iowa looms large: Wonder what would happen if they threw a caucus and nobody came.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. He can be reached at (714) 966-7821 or at dana.parsons@latimes.com. An archive of his recent columns is at www.latimes.com/parsons.