The other day, I made a mistake. I talked to a pair of billionaires, who pushed me through a pair of swinging doors, which lead to me running for President of the United States.
For those unaware, it’s pre-presidential primary season in the U.S. What that means, is that it’s “Absurdly rich person with too much time on their hands indulges megalomaniacal delusions” season. It seems like at least once-per-week, somebody declares that they are going to travel to various cities and try to scare people into thinking this candidate is their only hope for salvation. There are a few seasoned politicians, a Canadian with a vaguely Hispanic surname who shut down the government once and now wants to lead it, a former CEO who lost a senate run and decided the next logical step would be to lose a presidential run, a surgeon with no political experience or tangential knowledge of political process, somebody who was once married to a politician and loved that taste of power a little too much, and more than a few people who think “throw your hat into the ring” is a literal statement all wasting a shocking amount of money in a futile attempt to achieve the most stressful and thankless job in the world.
Now, as for me, last Wednesday, I was talking to a couple of CEO brothers in the kitchen of my work, when they suddenly told me I was late and shoved me out of a pair of swinging doors. Before I knew what was happening, I was standing at a podium with a bunch of cameras in my face and miniature American flags everywhere. I looked down, and suddenly, I was dressed like someone who is relatable but still professional, like a cool internet company CEO talking to investors, or like a young “cool” principal who turns the chair around backwards to rap with the kids. And I had an American flag pin on my lapel.
Before I could ask a question, I was assaulted by the reporters:
“How are you going to take back the country?”
“What am I taking it back from or to,” I thought, but before I could speak, a soft rock song–you know, in the generic, unoffensive, pandering style of John Cougar Mellencamp–started playing and everyone was handed a cheeseburger (yellow American cheese) and cans of beer. Everyone cheered and we moved on to a new question.
“Who is that standing next to you,” the dead-eyed reporter asked.
Before I could even look to my right, a man in overalls stained with grease holding a wrench and the deed to his house with a baby strapped to his chest rushed the podium and started answering for me: “Thank you for asking that question, blonde American ideal person. My name is Blue Collar Bill. I work hard for a living…sorry, fer a livin’, an’ I sat down at a Pancake Barn restaurant with this candidate, asked about the direction of this here country of ours that has become a beacon for all of those other lost countries on this beautiful Earth that God protects. An’ I was tolt that we here citizens need to be empowered by the US Prezeedent to pull ourselves up by us bootstraps. I was tolt that all them Gubment programs is takin’ away our American will ta’ lift ourselves up by our bootstraps. That is the type of candidate I, Blue Collar Bill, want ta’ support! Oh, then we’s talked ’bout God, but, you know, the real God, the Jesus who loved wrastlin’ and guns. I want a candidate that trusts in God, industry, the prophet Reagan, an’ empowerin’ people to do right by themselves with no social–SOCIALIST so-called safety net.”
Suddenly, fireworks went off and a Bald Eagle landed on my shoulder carrying a full-size American flag in its beak.
In my confusion, I didn’t notice the appearance of the member of the opposite sex standing next to me, hugging my arm, waving to the crowd, holding a blue-eyed baby and both had perfectly coifed hair. The person holding the baby leaned into the microphone and stated, “I am so proud to be the expected, traditionally-gendered spouse of this candidate,” which is fairly awkward because I’m already married, “and our well-behaved-through-regular-spanking child…”
The automaton turned to me and whispered, “What’re people calling babies with penises nowadays?”
Dumfounded, I stammered, “I dunno, Blake?” I looked over and saw this six-year-old whittling parts for a gun.
The humandroid (new name of my ska band) jumped back in, “Blake couldn’t ask for a better, more American role model. We just hope Americans, who need a role model, see those same qualities. CAN I GET AN AMEN!”
The fake child, Blake, started shooting his working, whittled gun into the air, an African American teenager fell from the rafters along with confetti, people in military uniform surrounded me, lifted me into the air and chanted, “We will be safe–Isis will die–God is America.”
Now, I’m on a tour of a bunch of cities. It’s like a tour of the United States with bad speeches. Occasionally, I have to give a reach-around to millionaire (billionaires demand a new hole to defile in one of your organs, typically a kidney), but hey, I wash my hands and got a free vacation. So, no, I’m not really running for president, because that’s something sociopaths do, but if you want to donate, I’m all for wasting donor money in lieu of a great vacation.
I have a goddamn tear in my eye. Next you need to promise everyone that you’re bringing back honest American values. Don’t ever specify what those values are, just clarify that you’re bringing them back. Because they were gone for a while under whoever ran before you, but you found them and will promptly bring them back unharmed.
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You have my vote.
At least you do if you promise to bring sexy back.
And pull tabs on soda cans. Can you bring back pull tabs on soda cans, please?
You sir, sound like the perfect candidate. I hope you also promote “Coke” during your campaign…because of the brothers…get it?
I’ll see myself out.
Dayum! Ya made me cry, and I didn’t even have to stub my toe all over again to do it. Shucks!
But in all fairness you would make the perfect candidate. Because yes, you are gross, really quite gross in fact.
Maybe that’s how all this happens….someone decides you should run and pushes you onto a stage to make a fool out of yourself and say a lot about nothing. How many people can we have running for office? Unbelievable.
There surely isn’t enough money around for that many folks.
Although I live in Britain and we have a queen and she is planning to live for ever. Apparently she has a secret pill that will allow this. We have just voted for a new (or it seems the old) government so it is only right that American should follow our lead and do something similar, after all you were once British and proud before it all went wrong.
Anyway the point is never vote for anyone that wants to be in charge only the wrong people ever stand. So if you are not planning to stand then you get my vote and Britain will support you in any way it can. A large Union Jack flag and a pet crow will be supplied free of charge if you should happen to mention a certain popular British company. . . . . Hang on the name will come back to me in a minute or two.
Are you sure your post title shouldn’t read “My Involuntary Presidential RUNS?” After all, you DO have a fascination with that seamier side of existence.
Damn. I am so disappointed in my scat-conjuring metaphor skills. It was right there, add an “s”, Pickle! That’s all you had to do!
Uh. I don’t know. Favorite Young Man used to be in a pretty successful punk ska band. Is your band successful? Do you have the support of the Muppets? I really hate that American flag humping the eagle tattoo. Promise me you don’t have that tattoo. Even if you do, you know I’ll vote for you.
Define “pretty successful.” Does “defiantly remaining in existence despite society’s indifference” count?
I promise I do not have that tattoo…just a tattoo on the small of my back of Barney the purple dinosaur getting romantic with Big Bird while Bert and Ernie watch in a darkened corners as they plot the continued suppression of Oscar the Grouch’s economic mobility. Just as patriotic. (Someone draw that, please…no, please don’t.)
Also, and this is just tangential to you, I’m a little scared of the even flippant political support I have engendered with this post. Maybe I’ll write my own attack ad to stem this wave.
Pretty successful meant playing lots of gigs for five years, selling CDs, and making money instead of losing it. They disbanded when they finished college. Writing your own attack ad sounds like fun.
“So, no, I’m not really running for president, because that’s something sociopaths do, but if you want to donate, I’m all for wasting donor money in lieu of a great vacation.”
Right!?!??! Donald Trump 2016, what? Everytime I say something to Boyfriend like “Why is carly fiorininini/benjamin button/raner paud (I’m bad with names) running when you know they’re not gonna get the nomination??” he yells about how they are making a shit ton of money doing it. Sigh. I wish I could make a shit ton of money to lose something.
If I could vote for you I would
I’m impressed. This is arguably your best piece to date. Yes, sir. Plus I would vote for you, which, by the way, has nothing to do with yur name being Blue Collar Bill. I need a hanky… NOW! But seriously, I’m impressed. This is quite a…. stunt.
WHAT… still no reply? I feel neglected, Mr. President.
YOU? You have expectations for response and prioritization? Oh no. You get NOTHING! Good day, sir. (Reference point: https://youtu.be/ymPpIzaanhY)
So how come you just gave me everything? Gene Wilder is my favorite actor. Thank you for that. Now, go to bed, sir.
Nobody’s favorite actor is Gene Wilder. So you like all four films he has been in? He’s great, don’t get me wrong, but favorite? That’s like saying James Dean is your favorite. There’s just not enough body of work to make that determination.
WHAT! Don’t you know life is about quality (like my posts once a week) and NOT about quantity (like too many superheroes)? Well? Well? (panting)
It’s like this: I just like the guy. What can I say? As a kid I saw that Willy Wonka movie and as a teen I saw The Woman in Red in the summer of 1984 I think it was and fell in love (love!) with the movie and the girl too, of course (damn!). As an adult (yes sir, that would be me) I heard him say, ‘I like show. I just don’t like the business.’ I don’t know, Pick. I just like his sincerity, is all. Good voice too.
Now, as for your next stunt…
P.S. Did you know Captain Marvel is a woman?