All the President's Men
It’s about this time of year, every four years, that I reassess my odds of becoming the next president of the United States. Me being me, the odds remain good. I am charismatic, handsome, noble and well-known for a superb organizational sensibility. I am also well-liked by elderly people, which based on my research seems to be the single most important thing to becoming president.
My plan is simple, begin by writing a humorous column for a small, obscure newspaper. Then leveraging my fame and popularity as a writer, I would run for mayor of Newport, campaigning entirely in bars and homes for the elderly. Winning, I would become America’s most eligible electable, a carefree playboy who managed to kept things at City Hall running hunky dory while I pursued social endeavors at home and abroad. After a few years at the helm, I would become governor on a technicality known as the “too cool to be just a mayor” clause introduced by Claiborne Pell some years ago.
At this point, the American presidency would be selling myself short. I would have all sorts of invitations to step into the shadow government and operate as the“master deum” of the Illuminati organization that runs the world through economic manipulations. But I would take the visible helm nonetheless, doing my civic duty and making it look good.
Still, as the years wear on, I grow concerned that I have not spontaneously been elected.
To anything. Also concerning is the lack of an enraptured readership for this column that was the operative leverage for getting this do-hicky in proper motion.
I would be more concerned, but I am me. An Italio-Semitic gypsy fortune teller revealed my presidency of the future. “A noble epoch” she explained to me “inspired by a noble leader.”
After discussing my convictions of future grandeur with a few male friends, I realized that I was not the only future president in the room.
There were four in fact, four of us destined to be U.S. presidents, and a fifth friend who was expecting to be a secretary of the Interior in at least two of our administrations.
Was this a case of male lunacy? A case study for how men live in a world that is not synonymous with reality? A world of fantasies and outrageous male arrogance?
I don’t think so. These are some good guys, very capable of administering justice, political equality, and qualities of exceptional leadership. Was it a coincidence that four future presidents would just be hanging out in my room?
Not at all. These are my friends, my “homies” and it’s fairly clear to me (and no doubt you, my committed readers) that “presidential” is a quality I frequently exude.
Nevertheless, I will need your help if I am ever to escape my middling occupation as a small town textual entertainer. I have so much untapped potential that would really only get a chance to come out if I got to be your president.
It doesn’t have to be this year, or next year, but sometimes soon when you get that feeling in your heart and the prescient smile on your face, write in “Zachary McCune” for American president.
Thank you.
Zachary McCune is such an efficient manager he rarely needs to wake up. His slogan for 2012 is “Zack does it better in bed.”
My plan is simple, begin by writing a humorous column for a small, obscure newspaper. Then leveraging my fame and popularity as a writer, I would run for mayor of Newport, campaigning entirely in bars and homes for the elderly. Winning, I would become America’s most eligible electable, a carefree playboy who managed to kept things at City Hall running hunky dory while I pursued social endeavors at home and abroad. After a few years at the helm, I would become governor on a technicality known as the “too cool to be just a mayor” clause introduced by Claiborne Pell some years ago.
At this point, the American presidency would be selling myself short. I would have all sorts of invitations to step into the shadow government and operate as the
Still, as the years wear on, I grow concerned that I have not spontaneously been elected.
To anything. Also concerning is the lack of an enraptured readership for this column that was the operative leverage for getting this do-hicky in proper motion.
I would be more concerned, but I am me. An
After discussing my convictions of future grandeur with a few male friends, I realized that I was not the only future president in the room.
There were four in fact, four of us destined to be U.S. presidents, and a fifth friend who was expecting to be a secretary of the Interior in at least two of our administrations.
Was this a case of male lunacy? A case study for how men live in a world that is not synonymous with reality? A world of fantasies and outrageous male arrogance?
I don’t think so. These are some good guys, very capable of administering justice, political equality, and qualities of exceptional leadership. Was it a coincidence that four future presidents would just be hanging out in my room?
Not at all. These are my friends, my “homies” and it’s fairly clear to me (and no doubt you, my committed readers) that “presidential” is a quality I frequently exude.
Nevertheless, I will need your help if I am ever to escape my middling occupation as a small town textual entertainer. I have so much untapped potential that would really only get a chance to come out if I got to be your president.
It doesn’t have to be this year, or next year, but sometimes soon when you get that feeling in your heart and the prescient smile on your face, write in “Zachary McCune” for American president.
Thank you.
Zachary McCune is such an efficient manager he rarely needs to wake up. His slogan for 2012 is “Zack does it better in bed.”
posted by Zack McCune at
8:16 PM
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