Archive » May 31, 2007
n.o.t.e.s from downtown
By Jim Alexander
If Not Paris, Why Not Me?
If you believe the polls and pundits, the country is so fed up with the current administration that any Democrat, including a soup can dressed in a suit, could win the next presidential election. But, did you observe Hillary Broth and Obama Bisque during the Democratic debates? If you didn’t, let me just say it convinced me that what this country doesn’t need is either one of those chowder heads. What it needs is someone different, someone with pizzazz, someone brave enough to speak his mind (no matter how lame). So, if not Paris Hilton, why not me?
I awoke the morning after the most recent Democrat “debate,” stood on my porch, and announced for all to hear (a flock of crows and the MarBorg trash collector), my candidacy for President of the United States. My cats meowed enthusiastically. Lora shook her head and asked me to come back inside, put some clothes on, and feed the cats.
I don’t have the millions in campaign funds that Obama or Hillary enjoy; in fact, I have only $8,026, if campaign funds include personal savings accounts, retirement funds, and an Indian-head nickel collection (now that I’m a candidate, I should probably learn to call them Native-American-head nickels).
My Campaign Promises
If elected, my first order of business will be to withdraw from Iraq within 24 hours. Imagine the look on the Iraqis’ faces when they wake up the morning after my victory and see no American troops – poof, gone, ka-put. Better yet, imagine the look on the face of the various American contract employees left behind.
My second order of business will be to secure our borders. There’s really only one unsecured border. We don’t like to talk about it for fear of being called “bigots,” but let’s go ahead and say it – the Canadian border. Canadians tiptoe into our country in copious numbers every year and try to blend in, but they can’t; in fact, Canadians are easy to spot. They say things like “Ehh?” instead of “What?”, “aboot” rather than “about,” and shop for items like “homo milk,” which I don’t even want to know aboot. Canadians are easily recognizable because of their overt attraction to beavers and Celine Dion, and their obsession with hockey, which they claim to have invented, but everybody knows an American – Chilly Willy – invented hockey.
Instead of hiring more Border Patrol officers, I’ll hire retired high school teachers to guard our borders. Whenever I went off campus at San Marcos high school for a smoke or a McDonald’s run, I always got caught sneaking back on. So, Mr. Mangini, Mrs. Silva, Coach Stoney, if you need supplemental employment, look me up after the election.
To reduce the national deficit, I’ll sell Texas back to the Mexicans, Louisiana back to the French, and North Dakota to the English (if they’ll buy jellied eels, they’ll buy anything). Then I’ll install a real fair trade agreement. For every Toyota Japan sells in the U.S., they’ll have to import a Chevy. If Russia wants to send us vodka, they’ll have to take an equal amount of Jack Daniels. If Mexico wants our televisions, our Levis, our outdated Nyquil, fine, but they’ll have to give us Salma Hayek.
I’ll devalue the housing market by using the same method the Mexican government uses to devalue the peso – I’ll simply remove one zero from the price. A million-dollar house will suddenly sell for a hundred thousand dollars. When I was young, you didn’t need to be a plumber to buy a house; even a doctor or lawyer could afford one. Nowadays there’s only two ways to own a house. You can wait for both parents to die to inherit theirs (some people have tried to expedite this by giving their parents skydiving lessons and 100 pounds of bacon every year for Christmas). Or, you have to marry a geek like Bill Gates.
In case Bill Gates is reading this, I’d like to say that I don’t necessarily think marrying you is a bad thing, and although I am not into same-sex relationships, given the opportunity, I think I could learn to love you.
So, on November 4, 2008 vote for me, Jumbo Gumbo or, if the idea of an innovator in the White House frightens you, play it safe and vote for Dennis Kucinich (the consommé Democrat).
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