Undeclaring Myself

Fred Thompson may have all the Republican momentum right now but there is a steady groundswell of support for me growing out there. Sure, they're all voices in my head but, man, there are a bunch of them. That the world would be a better place with me in the White House is obvious. A case could also be made for me to be Emperor of the Known Universe too. I'd bring prosperity, sarcasm and truckloads of Samuel Adams seasonal ales to a world desperate for all three. Unfortunately, the presidency and the emperor gig are ridiculously time consuming and I like to golf. Can't save the world and work in decent tee times, can we? (It's that kind of clarity that makes me a perfect candidate though: quickly assess the reality of the situation and make the right decision-for me.)

Aside from delusion and egomania, the big problem with me is my background. I'm constantly running from it, so you know the press would have a field day with it. You don't even need a crafty private investigator to dig garbage up on me, all you need to do is send someone with third grade reading skills to go over public records at the courthouse in my hometown. It's the kind of story that will inevitably leave you feeling better about the choices you've made in life. My gift to you.

I think I should spend some time over the next months explaining the platform for my permanently undeclared candidacy. The more you understand about me, the more you'll wish you had the FBI on speed dial. Or that flawed people who promise you beer could become president. I really do want to make your lives better, just not in the way you've been bamboozled into believing they could be made better. I won't babble on about carbon footprints or Departments of This and That. I'll fix what I can fix. The rest-here's the part normal candidates are afraid to say-I'll leave up to you.

Then I'll golf.