I resent the implications that my candidacy for the Republican nomination for President of the USA is a publicity stunt. Any suggestion that I’m running to draw attention to my novel, “No Roads Lead to Rome,” is simple slander by my opponents.
Sure I’ve got a book to sell. Who doesn’t? Gingrinch has been publishing books for years—you think he’s not in this to get all those remaindered paperbacks out of his garage? Obama’s books make him more money than his day job and I hear he’s got a sequel coming. Mitt Romney’s got a book that says something different every time you read it. Too bad The Donald ducked, because he’s a great fantasy writer.
We’ve had actors as president, so why not a fiction writer? At least I admit upfront to being a liar. My experience embellishing the truth will serve me well when pretending to lower taxes, shrink government, and restore our faded glory.
Still, you have the right to ask why I’m running and I have the right to dodge the question.
But I won’t. I’m running because I’ve still got principles to compromise. I’m running because I don’t have health insurance. I’m running because I want taxpayers to pay my rent for the next four years.
But mostly, I’m running for president for the same reason everyone else is: because I’m a narcissist.
Why else would I pretend to have answers for all the world’s problems? Why else would I schlep from state to state kissing hands and shaking babies? I want to party with reality TV stars. I want to meet heads of state and massage their shoulders. I want to invade Andorra. I want to raise millions of dollars in corporate donations and pretend the cash won’t influence me.
I won’t lie to you, America. While the other candidates say things like “This isn’t about me,” I say it’s all about me.
And you can take that to the ballot box.