Like all serious contenders I announced my Republican Party candidacy for the 2012 presidential nomination on Facebook.
My candidacy is motivated by the “fierce urgency of now” because my hairline is receding and all serious candidates have great hair. If Donald Trump intends to take great hair to the next level, I can’t afford to wait.
By the end of Day One, I knew I could be president because none of the Facebook friends who actually know me reacted to my announcement. This was a relief since anyone--and I mean anyone -who actually knows me could seriously hurt my prospects. To whit, I’m fully prepared to offer ambassadorships in exchange for pretending we’ve never met. (This won’t cost the nation much because most of my high school friends don’t remember high school anyway.)
On Day Two I realized that I need a platform. I need to stand for something, something important. What about education? Boring! Energy independence? Yeah, right. The problem with these themes is that all the other candidates will be trumpeting their solutions and then, once in office, doing the opposite.
To stand out from the crowd, I intend to traffic in big hairy audacious goals (BHAG’s). To stake my claim as a BHAG man, I offer this early glimpse at my emerging platform:
- Environment: Pave all national parks to make them razor scooter accessible.
- Foreign Policy: Turn the Middle East into a giant Disney theme park called “Holy Land.”
- Immigration: A single identity card for everyone. Two for schizophrenics.
- Energy: Red Bull.
- Education: Let’s stop blaming teachers and start blaming principals.
- Budget Deficit: Auction the next profile on Mt Rushmore to the highest bidder.
- National Defense: End the current wars, start some new ones--ideally some we can win.
Admittedly, these visions are so big, they border on hallucinations. But a BHAG full of buzz will get us through times of no money better than money will get us through times of no buzz.
On Day Three, I wrestled with my lack of experience. I’ve never had a job I was qualified for, but the presidency is different. To be president, I will need to be spectacularly unqualified.
By Day Four, the challenge of running a national campaign with a battery-sucking iPhone was painfully apparent. While I looked for a suitable Starbucks to use as a headquarters, my political opponents were already ravaging the early primary states.
How will I capture the hearts and minds of voters in Iowa and New Hampshire without visiting those forgettable backwaters?
Bold decisions will be the currency of my campaign! Rather than kowtow to voters in places I couldn’t care less about, I will limit my physical campaign to low cost vacation spots and coastal states with free Wi-Fi. Voters in all of the other places will learn about me through Twitter.
By Day Five, I was mentally and physically exhausted. I still felt pretty good spiritually until I learned that even Jewish candidates are expected to go to church. I had never realized how many different kinds of churches this country has. What if I choose the wrong ones?
By Saturday, the campaign grind was taking a tool. I needed a break, badly. Fortunately both the weekend and my Netflix shipment had now arrived, so I took some time off to watch “West Wing” reruns and respond to hate mail.
But make no mistake, America. Rest assured that, come Monday, I’ll be back on the campaign trail, working hard to earn your vote so that I can live rent free for the next four years.