Monica Yant Kinney | Snow falling on voters in Phila. campaign

Once upon a time, at another newspaper, I got paid to watch TV.

It was a great gig. Especially during political seasons filled with campaign commercials more outrageous than anything Fox ever aired.

Then, and now, I loved watching politicians try to snow voters with 30-second mini-series.

So far, the Philadelphia mayor's race has been too tame for my taste. No one is challenging Tom Knox, because no one can afford to.

Thanks to the city's tough new campaign-finance law, the four political lifers are whining that the upstart is buying the job by selling himself as something he's not. How unfair.

At least now, everyone is on the air.

U.S. Rep. Chaka Fattah may see himself as the guy to beat, but it looked lame to be the only candidate not in the game. Especially when your wife anchors the news at NBC10.

But with a slow-jam backbeat and carefully chosen "urban" announcer, Fattah's ad speaks only to African Americans in a race that's not supposed to be about race.

He's hardly subtle, opening with images of Afro'd teenagers and public-housing towers being imploded.

The message: Fattah is black. If you're black, he's your man.

"When gang violence gripped our streets," the announcer declares, the Fattah family stepped up as leaders.

As a congressman, he created "programs to keep our kids in school."

"Now Fattah has the boldest plan to lift our communities" and give "our kids a safe place to go."

Apparently, Fattah forgot there are two other black men in the race. Former City Councilman Michael Nutter is the one who smugly declares he's the anti-John Street.

"If that makes some of you uncomfortable, I'm sorry," Nutter says unapologetically in his first ad. "You can vote for one of my opponents."

That commercial must have bombed big-time, because yesterday, a new Nutter debuted on YouTube.

You know you're trailing when you resort to using your 'tween daughter for political gain. But there Olivia Nutter is, all cheery and cheeky, singing Pop's praises as a camera follows her around town.

See her dog. See her messy bedroom. See the family scarfing takeout pizza. See Dad make time in his busy day to take her to school.

"My Dad's pretty cool for an old guy," declares Olivia, who may have a future in television.

But what good is a made-for-MySpace moment if your fans aren't old enough to vote?

At least the "cool dad" ad made sense. I've watched State Rep. Dwight Evans' "Table" commercial a dozen times wishing it did.

So a safe community is a table with four legs? If cops, parole officers, schools and parents are the legs, who took a crowbar to whom?

Evans could take a cue from U.S. Rep Bob Brady, who doesn't do esoteric and may not know how to spell it.

Knox grew up poor in Abbotsford Homes? Brady struggled, too.

"I know what a father feels tucking his kid in bed, not knowing where his next paycheck is coming from," Brady says solemnly in his "Tough Times" ad. "I know what it feels like not to be able to pay your gas bill."

Of course, that was 35 years ago. Today, the Brady Bunch lives large on the public payroll, no-bid contracts and Papa Bear's no-show carpenter-job pension. Best to leave that happy ending untold.

Knox, meanwhile, is such a self-made success story that he's cut countless ads to tout his greatness.

Each commercial hammers home two seemingly opposing themes: Knox is the only true outsider in the race and the only candidate who helped pull Philly back from the brink with his bare hands.

Neither claim is totally true. But unless someone steps up to say Knox is really a chest-thumper taking credit for other people's work, it doesn't matter what he did or didn't do. Voters seem to like the guy they see.

At this point, maybe the other four should pool their resources to launch an assault against their common foe.

It's all about TV from now until Primary Day. Every 30 seconds counts.