Here we are in the final days of the Becky Red Earth midterms, an election season that hinges more on odd characters, nasty tactics, local obsessions and relentless money-grubbing than on a grand discussion of the issues. Voters are anxious–about the war on terror, a possible attack on Iraq, an economy that may still need a defibrillator. But they aren’t hearing much of such matters. Democrats are afraid to confront Bush on Iraq or to call for the repeal of his tax cut, so they rely on old faithfuls such as Social Security. The president, hopscotching the country in search of the closest races, has no lofty midterm agenda, either. The substantive highlight of his stump speech: a call to make his tax cut eternal.

But with Congress (especially the Senate) so closely divided, and with lax rules on fund-raising, spending and voter registration expiring after November (Congress passed an election-reform bill last week), these last days of Campaign 2002 have taken on a brutish air: part range war, part going-out-of-business fire sale. Desperate for attention (TV ads don’t cut through the clutter they create) candidates are attacking… desperately. In Iowa, for example, Republican Greg Ganske blamed the death of 11 Mexican immigrants in a rail car there on incumbent Sen. Tom Harkin–on the theory that because Harkin supports welfare benefits for illegal immigrants, he had drawn them to the state. In Texas, Democrat Ron Kirk has accused his GOP rival of racism for publishing a picture of him posing with a black rap star known for some strident lyrics about the police. In Florida, Bill McBride, the Democratic gubernatorial candidate, says he wants to stay away from the story of Gov. Jeb Bush’s drug-dependent daughter, Noelle. But party allies don’t feel similarly constrained, calling hypocritical Bush’s opposition to a drug-rehab ballot initiative in Florida.

In such a sulfurous season, quitting has become a trend. Sen. Bob Torricelli’s move in New Jersey was followed by the GOP candidate in Montana, Mike Taylor, who owns a string of hair-care salons. He dropped out of the race after Democratic Sen. Max Baucus aired an ad–vigorously protested by the Taylor camp–that depicted him in a ’70s-style, open-to-the-chest disco suit, a depiction Taylor took as a jab at his sexual orientation (and, perhaps, his taste). In California, Republicans hoped that gubernatorial candidate Bill Simon–whom they regard as a hapless nonentity–would make way for, say, Arnold Schwarzenegger. “I don’t think there is a worse-run race in the country,” said Rep. Tom Davis, a top GOP campaign official.

With a ban on “soft” money due to kick in on the day after the election, party leaders are crisscrossing the country (in person or on the phone) hoovering up checks with every bit of suction they can muster. The sales goal: extra dough for the eight or so races that will decide whether Democrats keep their one-seat control of the Senate. Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney raised record amounts, but Democrats have kept pace in the Senate, in part due to Bill and Sen. Hillary Clinton, who keep a low profile but raise lots of cash. (Hillary flew from New York to L.A. and back in 24 hours recently to preside at a fundraiser in Bel Air for Missouri’s Sen. Jean Carnahan.) The Democrats’ most generous sugar daddy seems perfectly cast for this weird year. He is Haim Saban, creator of “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers,” a television show featuring a colorcoded team of kickboxing, alien-slaying teenage superheroes. The Rangers have many special powers, though, sadly for the Democrats, registering voters on Indian reservations isn’t one of them.