By MICHAEL TAVOLIERO
It’s a tale as old as time—or at least as old as sibling squabbles and playground spats.
When we see and hear a child with chocolate-stained fingers blaming their sibling for the missing cake; it’s another thing entirely to see a politician pull the same trick, straight-faced, while wielding the power of high office of the United States Senate.
When Sen. Lisa Murkowski, the woman who famously inherited her Senate seat from her father, dismisses Trump’s latest AG choice as “not a serious nomination,” it’s a masterclass in irony so rich that it should come with a health warning.
In politics, this moves up a notch (or 20) as the well-loved ad hominem attack, where logic steps aside to let character assassination shine. Of all people to bear the brunt of this strategy, none have been more consistently targeted than Donald J. Trump. In modern politics, no figure has survived such relentless, outsized character attacks. But here we are, watching Alaska’s political elite wield irony with all the finesse of a child swinging a baseball bat in the living room—everyone ducks, yet the windows still shatter.
Let’s break down Murkowski’s “serious” criteria, shall we?
She commented, “We need to have a serious attorney general… This one was not on my bingo card.” That’s a tall order from someone whose own ticket to Capitol Hill was practically printed by her dad’s office printer.
In 2002, then-Gov. Frank Murkowski handpicked his daughter Lisa for the Senate, memorializing nepotism as the equivalent of a “serious nomination.” One can only imagine the “serious” qualifications needed: a decent family photo, good table manners, a fussy, needy and shallow persona, and the ability to dial Dad’s number in Juneau.
Let’s rewind to the beginning. Murkowski’s law career didn’t quite start with a bang; she passed the bar on her fifth attempt. This number of attempts suggests persistence, perhaps, but hardly screams “future U.S. Senator.”
From there, she worked quietly in Anchorage before suddenly finding herself vaulted into national office thanks to a convenient appointment by her father, then-Governor Frank Murkowski. In other words, Murkowski’s political career began with a handout wrapped in a Senate seat.
Matt Gaetz, on the other hand, climbed a much different and onerous ladder. He passed the bar on his first try, won a Florida House seat in a competitive special election, and later moved up to Congress after prevailing over multiple opponents. His track record shows a genuine climb, not the gift-wrapped inheritance Murkowski enjoyed.
The humor here practically writes itself: The senator, whose career kicked off with a “serious” bit of nepotism, now questions Gaetz’s credibility as a nominee?
Perhaps it’s best to take Murkowski’s words with a grain of irony the size of Denali. After all, in Alaska’s high-stakes political bingo, it seems you don’t need qualifications, just a well-connected father and a quip about seriousness.
The senator’s remark boils down to: “Qualifications? Meh. Family connections? Essential!”
And when Murkowski, who occupies one of the most nepotism-infused seats in modern politics, suddenly champions seriousness in public office, it’s as if Alaska’s state motto quietly changed to “Do as I say, not as I do.”
In the end, maybe Lisa Murkowski should host a bingo night with serious qualifications on the cards: “Pass the bar (eventually),” “Have dad’s phone number,” and “Win by appointment, not by election.”
In her Alaska bingo, everyone’s a winner as long as they have the right connections.
Michael Tavoliero is a senior writer at Must Read Alaska.
