Sunday, October 27, 2013

173. Politics

So I came in yesterday and caught C.W. at my computer again. I’ve given up on keeping him away although he has some method of accessing my password-connected websites. He won’t tell me how he does it but I know he does for I sometimes find weird purchases, like the time he ran up a sizeable bill at Victoria's Secret and charged it to my credit card. We had words over that but did that stop him? No. I’m now paying for a set of DVDs titled “Ten Weeks To Banjo Fun.”

Today was even weirder. He was working on, of all things, a campaign poster. In big letters on an Illustrator worksheet were “No Government. No Time.”

“What the hell?” I said.

“I’ve decided that you should run for political office,” he said.

I said, “That’s crazy.”

“No,” he said. “That new senator from Texas is crazy. You are just unstable.” He thought for a moment. “But don’t worry. I’m your campaign manager. We’ll keep that from the public.”

He did resemble a campaign manager, I suppose. He was paunchy, bald, and had little snaky eyes that darted back and forth like black hummingbirds.

“You will be my campaign manager?”

“You bet. We’ll sell you to the public as the real deal. You’ll be as popular as a whore on a troop ship.”

I had to sit down. “C.W.,” I said slowly, not knowing where to start. “Do you know anything about politics in America?”

“All I need to know,” he said.

“Then you know that a politician has to have a spotless past.”

“Oh please,” he said. “That is so passé. Didn’t you learn anything along the way? We’ll use the ‘Salvation Strategy’ that worked so well for Junior Bush.”

“The Salvation Strategy?”

“Yep. We’ll pick a date when you repented of your sinful past and accepted salvation. Then we’ll forbid the press from questioning any aspect of your behavior prior to that day.”

“The Salvation Strategy. I see.”

“Works like a charm. You are reborn as a politician. Now,” he said. “We need to get you fitted for some new clothes.”

“C.W.,” I said. “Politicians have to be knowledgeable about things like the economy and foreign relations.”


“They have to be experienced.”

“Yesterday’s paradigm.”

“They have to be charismatic.”

“Charisma is as charisma does.”

I said, “Now just what the hell does that mean?”

The difference between a politician and
a bubblehead doll is simply a matter of
brains. You shouldn't worry, though.
You don't elect your politicians because
 they have intelligence. - C.W.
“It means,” he said, with exasperation showing in his voice. “That we can market you like the latest model of a classy car. So don’t worry.”

I don’t know why I made the effort but I did. “A politician has to have a platform on which to base a campaign.”

“Sure enough,” he said. “And we have the most sure-fire platform there is. The one that has propelled more politicians into office over the last few years than any other.”

“And what,” I said. “Is this magic platform?”

“Are you completely clueless? Can’t you guess?”

“No,” I said. “Clue me in. What will I tell the public to convince them to elect me to run the government?”

“Simple,” he said. “You just tell them that you hate the government.”

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