A 51-Year-Old Man Who Has Never Once Experienced Consequences Decides To Run For Governor Of New Jersey
Trenton, NJ – In a move that has shocked absolutely no one who has been paying even the slightest bit of attention, Congressman Tom Kean Jr. (R-NJ) has officially announced his candidacy for Governor of New Jersey. This is, of course, the same Tom Kean Jr. who has spent the better part of two decades treating the political landscape like a particularly forgiving game of *Mario Kart*—where he always gets a blue shell, never hits a banana peel, and somehow respawns in first place even after driving directly into a bottomless pit.
Yes, folks. The man who has spent 22 years in politics—first in the New Jersey State Senate, then in the U.S. House of Representatives—without a single major legislative victory to his name is now asking the people of New Jersey to trust him with the keys to the entire state. And you know what? He might actually win. Because God is dead, and we killed Him by letting the Grateful Dead play too long at the 2023 Sea.Hear.Now Festival.
Let’s just get this out of the way: Tom Kean Jr. is the political equivalent of a participation trophy that was accidentally left in the sun and now has a weird, sticky residue. He is a legacy candidate in the truest sense—his father, Tom Kean Sr., was a wildly popular two-term governor who actually accomplished things, like reforming education and not being a complete embarrassment to the office. Junior, on the other hand, has spent his entire career trying to coast on that brand name like a trust-fund kid who keeps crashing his dad’s Porsche.
Remember 2006? Kean ran for the U.S. Senate against Bob Menendez. He lost. 2008? He ran again. He lost. 2010? He tried to primary an incumbent? He lost. 2012? He ran for Congress in a redrawn district? He lost. Finally, in 2022, after a decade of taking L’s that would have made any normal human being question their life choices, he eked out a win against a Democratic incumbent who was literally under federal indictment. And he only won by three points. In a red wave year. In a district that was gerrymandered to be slightly less blue than the rest of the state. That’s not a comeback story; that’s a lottery ticket that fell out of a dumpster.
But now, after barely warming his seat in the House—where his greatest achievement so far has been looking mildly uncomfortable during press conferences—Kean has decided that he is ready to lead the eighth-most-populous state in the nation. And his pitch? Oh, it’s a doozy.
According to his announcement, Kean wants to focus on “fixing the economy,” “making New Jersey safer,” and “giving parents a real voice in their children’s education.” So, basically, the same three bullet points that every Republican has been copy-pasting from a Word document since 2016. It’s like ordering the “MAGA Value Meal” and being surprised when you get a soggy flag-themed toy and a side of culture war.
Let’s break this down, shall we? The economy? Kean voted against the CHIPS Act, which is literally bringing semiconductor manufacturing jobs to the U.S., including a massive plant in Ohio that could have easily been in New Jersey if we had any leadership worth a damn. He also voted against the Inflation Reduction Act, which, while not perfect, at least tried to cap insulin prices and invest in renewable energy. His alternative? Tax cuts. For everyone. Including corporations. Because nothing says “I understand the struggles of a Bergen County commuter who pays $15,000 a year in property taxes” like giving a tax break to Amazon.
Safety? Kean has been a reliable vote for the “tough on crime” crowd, which in practice means he supports funding police while refusing to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, we should also fund mental health services and addiction treatment. He’s the type of guy who sees a pothole and suggests building a toll booth on it.
And the education thing? Oh, this is the real gem. Kean has been a vocal supporter of the “parental rights” movement, which is just a fancy way of saying he wants to make sure that school libraries don’t have any books that might make a kid question their gender identity or, God forbid, learn about the Tulsa Race Massacre. He’s the kind of politician who thinks “critical race theory” is being taught in kindergarten, despite the fact that most kindergarteners are still trying to figure out how to not eat glue.
But here’s the thing that really gets me: Kean is running in a state where the current governor, Phil Murphy, is term-limited and has a approval rating that fluctuates between “meh” and “slightly better than a root canal.” The Democrats are likely to nominate either Jersey City Mayor Steve Fulop, who is aggressively fine, or someone else who will probably trip over their own shoelaces during a debate. On the Republican side, Kean is the frontrunner because, again, his name is the only one that suburban moms recognize from the 1980s.
This is the same logic that made us think, “Hey, maybe we should let the guy who played a lawyer on TV be the leader of the free world.” And look how that turned out.
So yes, Tom Kean Jr. is going to run for governor. He’s going to give speeches about “New Jersey values” while voting against policies that actually help New Jerseyans. He’s going to shake hands at diners in Parsippany while his campaign staff frantically Googles what a “pork roll” is. And he’s going to act like he’s a moderate, common-sense Republican, even though his voting record is as conservative as a MAGA hat found in a dumpster behind a Chick-fil-A.
But here’s the real kicker: He might win. Because New Jersey voters have a tendency to look at a candidate with a familiar last name
Final Thoughts
As a veteran of countless congressional cycles, watching Tom Kean Jr. navigate the delicate tightrope between his father’s storied legacy and the hard-right demands of today’s GOP is like observing a masterclass in political survival—but one that often costs him his own identity. While he touts bipartisanship on infrastructure and environmental issues, his voting record on abortion and election integrity tells a more predictable, partisan story that belies the moderate brand he tries to sell. Ultimately, Kean represents the quiet tragedy of a pragmatic politician trapped in a party that no longer rewards his kind of nuance, leaving him a capable legislator who may be remembered more for where he came from than for where he dared to go.