#VERZUZTHESYSTEM
Political Framework
by Christopher Teel, A.B.D (also known as Bored.of.Educatiion)
Do campaigns care about showcasing policy or wasting our time?
That’s the question that’s been sitting with me lately. Because if we’re honest, most of what we see during election season feels like theater. People shouting over each other, interviews that sound like rehearsals, headlines that sound like arguments. Somewhere in all of that noise, the truth gets lost.
Take a look at New York. Zohran Mamdani and Andrew Cuomo both represent versions of leadership that claim to serve the same people. But ask yourself, how often do we actually see their policies compared side by side? Not the soundbites. Not the spin. Just the substance.
That’s what got me thinking about systems. How they’re built. How they work. And how we can build our own.
Everything around us is a system that someone designed. Every law, every policy, every process. Some of them help us, some of them hold us back. But all of them started with somebody’s idea. And if systems are just ideas organized into action, then why can’t we create our own ways of seeing and deciding? Why can’t we create frameworks that belong to us?
Because that’s really what this is about, frameworks and authorship. Building the lenses we use to understand the world. When you create a framework, you create structure for truth. You design how information moves, how people think, and how stories unfold. Culture has always done that. From how we built hip hop to how we tell stories across generations, we’ve been creating systems of understanding for as long as we’ve existed.
And music might be our most powerful framework of all. We study it. We debate it. We compare verses, flows, and messages with precision. We hear the difference between substance and showmanship. So if we can analyze music with that much care, why can’t we analyze power the same way?
That’s what brought me here, to what I call the Verzuz Political Framework.
We’re borrowing from the format that brought the world together during the pandemic. Two artists. Two screens. One crowd. No scripts. No filters. Just raw truth presented through rhythm and exchange. Only now, we replace the songs with policies. Ten rounds. Policy versus policy. Idea versus idea. It’s a remix, but for civic life.
We know the difference. Hits don’t fix housing. Sound doesn’t pass legislation. But the comparison format works because it’s familiar. It’s cultural. It’s honest. Verzuz reminded us that the culture loves context. We like seeing two things side by side and deciding for ourselves. That’s power. That’s discernment.
And that’s what politics is missing.
Because right now, there isn’t a space where multiple sides of an argument can exist without manipulation. Media has become entertainment. Interviews are performances. Truth gets edited to fit a storyline. We need unbiased presentations that let people weigh ideas on substance, not style.
That’s what this framework is designed for. It doesn’t replace journalism or debates. It just gives us another lane, a cultural lane, where learning and comparison can exist without chaos. It meets the people where they are and reminds us that discernment is a skill we already have. We just need to apply it.
So let’s see how it looks when we put it to work.
Mamdani Verzuz Cuomo
A Policy Battle Through the Verzuz Political Framework
When you put Zohran Mamdani and Andrew Cuomo side by side, you get two different records from the same city. Both New York. Both leaders. Both claiming to love the people. But the rhythm is different. One feels like a mixtape grind built in the community. The other feels like a studio project for executives.
Round One: Housing
Mamdani came with Freeze the Rent, an immediate halt to rent hikes for stabilized apartments and a full investment in public housing. He spoke like someone who has watched families pack up overnight because landlords could raise rent on a whim. Cuomo came with Make New York Affordable Again, a ten year plan to build and preserve half a million units. Ambitious, yes, but slow moving. People can’t live in a plan. They need relief now. Mamdani’s message felt like survival. Cuomo’s felt like structure.
Round Two: Transportation
Free the Bus wasn’t a slogan. It was a philosophy. Mamdani painted a picture of a city where transportation is freedom. He saw fare free transit as liberation for working people. Cuomo’s Safe Streets emphasized control and regulation, important but uninspiring. One spoke to movement. The other spoke to management. And the people know the difference between motion and maintenance.
Round Three: Work and Wages
Thirty by Thirty landed like a verse that made the crowd hush. Thirty dollars an hour by 2030. It sounded like justice in numbers. Mamdani said we should stop calling survival a skill. Cuomo stayed with Jobs and Growth, promising incentives for businesses to create employment. It was traditional, predictable, and safe. But the people watching were tired of safety that only protects the top. They wanted growth that includes them.
Round Four: Childcare and Families
Every Child Covered sounded like a prayer in policy form. Universal childcare for every family, built on the belief that raising children should not bankrupt a household. Cuomo countered with Tax Credit Relief. Helpful, but limited. One was a system shift. The other was a system patch. In a country where parents work overtime and still can’t afford daycare, the choice spoke for itself.
Round Five: Safety and Policing
Community First came with visuals of youth centers, prevention programs, and trust. Safety that starts with the people, not punishment. Cuomo’s Safe City was professional, polished, and procedural. It came with words like training, compliance, and enforcement. But the energy leaned toward prevention over punishment. The crowd could feel that.
Round Six: Climate and Infrastructure
Green Future sounded like a vision. Clean energy jobs, school retrofits, public works as justice. Cuomo’s Resilient City sounded like management. Smart, efficient, but reactive. One was dreaming forward. The other was protecting the past. Mamdani’s record hit different because people could see themselves in it.
Round Seven: Taxes and Wealth
Then came Tax the Top. Mamdani’s argument was direct. He said fairness is funding. That billionaires and major corporations have profited from public infrastructure and owe their share back. He laid out how those funds could pay for rent freezes, childcare, and climate jobs. Cuomo answered with Keep the City Competitive. He warned that raising taxes could drive out investment and stall the economy. The chat split down the middle. Some saw Mamdani as idealistic. Others saw Cuomo as cautious. But when the smoke cleared, one message felt like courage, the other like maintenance.
Round Eight: Education
Education is always the soul of a city. Mamdani spoke about expanding community college, free trade programs, and creative arts that build identity. He talked about classrooms as communities, not factories. Cuomo talked about modern buildings and better testing standards. It was responsible, but it lacked rhythm. Mamdani’s words felt like investment in people. Cuomo’s sounded like maintenance of systems.
Round Nine: Health and Wellbeing
Every Life Covered had the same emotional pull as a gospel hook. Mamdani’s call for universal healthcare wasn’t just about medicine. It was about moral responsibility. Cuomo’s Affordable Pathways promised gradual improvement through partnerships. It was pragmatic but partial. People in the chat reacted to what they could feel. Health as a right, not a reward.
Round Ten: Legacy
Mamdani closed with For the People. His words landed like a chorus. He spoke about legacy as collective memory, about leaving behind systems that outlast individuals. Cuomo finished with Experience Matters, reminding voters of his tenure and proven record. His delivery had confidence, but it also carried distance. Mamdani’s finale felt like tomorrow. Cuomo’s felt like yesterday.
When the lights faded, the score wasn’t about who won a debate. It was about who connected. Who told the truth. Who moved people closer to clarity.
That is the purpose of the Framework. To remind people that critical thinking is cultural. To prove that comparing policies can be as engaging as comparing verses when the presentation respects the people. This is for those who grew up breaking down lyrics and catching metaphors before Genius existed. For those who can tell the difference between a remix and an original. For those who still believe that truth can be art if it’s delivered right.
We need more spaces where multiple sides of an argument can exist without manipulation. Where people can see ideas next to each other and choose based on understanding, not influence. The Verzuz Political Framework is not entertainment. It’s enlightenment through rhythm.
It’s time to stop letting others write the tracklist for our future.
(And if you’re still reading, you already feel it. This is what discernment sounds like. If not, no problem. Your search party will find you eventually.)
