Perry's Pen

The Sliwa Doctrine: Cat-Jitsu, Leverage, and the Smug Smile

The final debate for the N.Y.C. Mayoral race wasn’t a policy discussion; it was a bizarre, televised power struggle played out under fluorescent lights. Three men—a resume, a deer, and a Red Beret—battled for the soul of the city, but the real fight was happening on a sub-atomic level.

My contact, a keen political observer, nailed the surface-level assessment:

I thought Mamdani looked like a deer in headlights most of the night, interrupted on occasion with that smug smile of his, reminiscent of former Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

Sliwa is endlessly entertaining and talks a good game, but what has he done besides be a cat dad and create something that looks like a very early ICE iteration? (Guardian Angels).

Cuomo is NOT someone I would “have a beer with”, but he knows his stuff and has a resume miles long.

– Mayor McCheese

All true. The Mamdani-Trudeau parallel is pure gold—that smile is a form of aggressive non-engagement. And Cuomo is the walking-talking LinkedIn profile that makes you feel both impressed and deeply tired.

But the key, the secret of the debate, was revealed by rock star friend of mine, who has a knack for seeing the chaos beneath the calm. He replied:

“I had an acoustic show recently where I pointed out that Sliwa was a master of submission, leverage and pressure points!”
– rock star dude

This is it. This is the Sliwa Doctrine.

It wasn’t that Sliwa was just loud or entertaining; he was applying the ancient, forgotten arts of Cat-Jitsu. Every time he pivoted from an impossible question about municipal bonds to a rant about stray felines, it wasn’t a distraction—it was a leveraged takedown.

Think about it:

1. Submission: When Mamdani tried to pin him on a budget detail, Sliwa used a rapid-fire series of non-sequiturs about the MTA, forcing the moderator (and Mamdani) to submit to the topic change. He didn’t win the argument; he won the battleground.
   
2. Pressure Points: Sliwa knows exactly where the public hurts. He doesn’t discuss complex zoning laws; he hits the specific pressure point of a fear-fueled narrative. It’s an emotional chokehold.
   
3. Leverage: The Guardian Angels are his leverage. The cats are his leverage. He takes two seemingly disparate elements of his life and uses them to elevate his persona from “politician” to “unhinged folk hero.”

My observer friend immediately understood the depth of this realization, delivering the perfect summation:

Curtis the assassin. With him there is no fuckin’. Just kitty cattin’!

This is the code of “Curtis the Assassin.” His political life is one of intense focus. There are no messy, distracting entanglements. There is only the mission, the red jacket, the pursuit of power, and the serene, judgmental gaze of his many, many rescue cats. His hands, capable of delivering a perfect armbar, are reserved only for gently stroking a calico’s ear.

The other candidates were playing chess; Curtis Sliwa was petting a cat, waiting for the perfect moment to deploy the purr-powered, non-lethal, political equivalent of a Rōnin pressure point strike.

New York City isn’t run by policy or competence. It’s run by those who understand the delicate balance of submission, leverage, and the power of kitty cattin’. The other candidates simply haven’t learned the lesson yet.

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