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Write Me In
My run for the highest office in the land has gone exceedingly well. I am the first candidate to run an issue-free, wall-free, policy-free, promise-you-anything-to-get-in-office, campaign. (I know, I know, the Donald is neck-and-neck with me on this, but I’m not worried that he’ll grab the presidency – other stuff, well, you may want to be careful, just sayin’.)
I am the first and only candidate to spend absolutely nothing on media placement; all my campaign donations went for beer and a nice watch for my wife. I am the first candidate to opt out of the debates. I mean, really, who needs to waste 90 minutes on that kind of shit when I could be glad-handing potential voters while downing a few at Manuel’s Tavern. I’ll let ya’ll in on one of my vote gettin’ campaign secrets — after a few free beers, some chili fries and 6 or 7 shots, you can get damn near anybody to vote for ya. Granted, per vote it’s expensive, and I’ve yet to factor in getting everyone to the polls via Uber, but it will all be worth it when I install a wet bar in the oval office. Red, white and blue Jello shots anyone?
I hold most of my campaign rallies at Manuel’s Tavern in Atlanta and I know what you’re thinking – “How do you inform the voters of Iowa and Kansas of your causes?” Well easy. First, I don’t have any causes, and second, I get massive free media coverage. I’m using a cutting-edge revolutionary technique. Local TV news reporters and cameramen have swarmed Atlanta’s Manuel’s Tavern in recent months reporting on the recent renovation of this famous Democratic watering hole, and I always find my way into the shot. A quick thumbs-up while standing in back of an unaware local correspondent while sporting my “Vote for the Big T” t-shirt gets me on prime time and sends the voters of the Midwest into a frenzy over my candidacy. And honestly, do we really count any votes west of Ohio? I don’t think so.
Now I don’t claim to have a grasp of the big important issues (or any of the issues for that matter), but look at my competition. Get my drift? Lawdy, lawdy, Ted Cruz was an actual choice at one point – this bar ain’t too high. At this stage most of the hideous choices have been eliminated, leaving us with only the most revolting choices (excluding myself of course). By now, most people are aware that my competition includes an actual candidate, Hillary, and the lurching, grope malfunction, Donald. I don’t see either as real opposition. Taking a page from someone else’s playbook, I could eat a baby on Fifth Avenue and be more likable.
There are some odd third-party choices for the truly delusional. A dude named Gary who has been completely unable to answer any inquiry tossed at him. The only question the perpetually confused Gary Johnson answered correctly at a recent press conference was, “Which drawer do you keep your pot in?” When asked to name three of his favorite family members, or any family member, Gary came up empty.
I would comment on Jill Stein, but I have no freakin’ clue who she is. Her running mate, Ajamu Baraka, has greater name recognition than she does. (Some advice for Jill’s running mate: Ajamu, you may want to change your name legally to Buddy or Ralph – and carry a long-form birth certificate at all times).
After many hours of searching, my campaign manager (my cat Mr. Mittens) was able to dredge this up from Jill Stein’s website:
Despite an illness which prevented her from traveling to Las Vegas for the final presidential debate on Wednesday, October 19th, Green Party presidential nominee Jill Stein livestreamed her responses to the presidential debate questions in real time and held a Facebook Q&A from her hospital room in Austin, Texas, in a two hour-plus Facebook Live session that has reached nearly 3.5 million viewers and rising as her debate commentary went viral on social media.
Ok, that does show some moxie but … not … quite … presidential in my book.
Let’s compare Jill to Teddy Roosevelt, who took campaigning to a whole new level. When Theodore got shot by a disgruntled shop keeper while preparing to give a campaign speech, did he run off to the hospital, or even attempt to plug the leaking hole in his chest? No; the original Bull Moose refused to go to the hospital until after he finished a 90-minute speech. Now that’s what I call a bullet proof campaigner.
It occurs to me that this may be a good way to vet our future candidates.
Any candidate that can take a shot to the chest and still make it through the televised 90-minute debates before paramedics are called in should be considered a serious contender. (Note: Reagan would have been disqualified under this vetting process, as he wimped out and went straight to the hospital after being shot. Had he played a rousing game of badminton or handball before opting for medical treatment, I might have voted for him.)
But back to my campaign. Think about it — all the late-night shows and every media outlet from the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Fox Newz, ABC, NBC, and CBS have spent months and months criticizing both Hillary and The Donald with an endless regurgification of unflattering scandals and policies ranging from ugly pant suits to genetically small groping-hand syndrome. But not a single negative comment about my run for office. When Charlie Rose was asked, “What policies of the first artist candidate, Trevor Irvin, do you disagree with?” He was quoted as saying “What? Who? None, I haven’t heard a thing.” I don’t know about you but I call that a big league endorsement! I get great endorsements.
My run for president is unsullied by scandals of any sort (primarily due to the fact that cell phones and sexting weren’t invented until I had aged out of the usual police arrest years). In the interest of full disclosure, I do use a private server — but my wife gets really pissed when I call her that.
So when you hit the polling place, think of what I will do for you.
- I may, or may not, raise your taxes. I won’t ban Saturday Night Live.
- I have large, full-sized hands.
- I will be a job creator as my artist position at IrvinProductions will now be open for the next four to eight years.
- I promise not to rig any election – the GOP already tried it with gerrymandering, and it didn’t work for them.
- I will keep most of the Constitution intact, removing only the parts I don’t like. (And most of you have no fuckin’ clue what the Constitution says, so get real – you won’t notice a thing).
- I will fix all the roads and bridges in my zip code.
- I will make Cuba the 51st state.
- I will increase the strength of the military to protect us from the coonskin cap-wearing, musket-totin’, Libertarian nutbags who are proliferating like weasels in the rural backwaters of America.
- The Supreme Court will be made up entirely of my high school buddies (can you smell the legalized weed yet?).
- I will send anti-vaxxer’s back to middle school until they all can pass biology.
- Catholic priests will be required to wear body cams.
- I have adequate stamina, not as much as Hillary, but enough.
- I will take a lot of naps, so get used to that.
- I have never grabbed anyone’s cat inappropriately.
- I don’t Twitter, I don’t Tweet, I don’t use a cell phone, and you will never see me hashtag anything.
- The West Wing will have a regulation pool table and a juke box filled with Hendrix, Buddy Guy and the Temptations.
- I will make regular crank phone calls to Putin at 3am “Hey Vlad, I pushed this red button by accident about 20 minutes ago, do you know how I turn this damn thing off?”
- And finally, I will make Rudy Giuliani take off that gruesome, snarling Halloween mask.
So write my name in for President of the UnUnited States of America and spell it correctly for gawds sake (it’s Irvin with a “v”).
- Image: Write Me In by © Trevor Irvin.