02.17.2008
Hey candidates, court this
Hello? Hello? I’m waiting to be courted here.
It’s well past Valentine’s Day and none of the leading presidential candidates have come around with a heart-shaped box of candy seeking my endorsement. (Ron Paul did show up, but he was delivering a pizza.)
I know what many of you are saying (because I can read your minds.)
“Sure, Scott, it’s perfectly fine for a newspaper’s editorial board to endorse a candidate, but you, as the most respected and beloved journalist to continuously use the term ‘dog snot’ in columns read mostly by shut-ins and prisoners, should remain objective so as not to taint this process in which we eventually choose the lesser of two evils to run this great nation, sometimes straight into the ground.”
The endorsement frenzy is well under way.
Jack Nicholson endorsed Hillary Clinton. Oprah Winfrey endorsed Barack Obama. Chuck Norris endorsed Mike Huckabee. Arnold Schwarzenegger endorsed John McCain. Both Clinton and Obama have met with former Democratic contender John Edwards, seeking his blessing upon their campaigns.
And here I am, pacing around the house, peeking through the curtains, wondering if the person on the scooter is Hillary Clinton coming to call or just another citizen without a valid driver’s license.
I leap at the sound of the doorbell, hoping to find John McCain on the stoop, only to be disappointed when two well-dressed young men attempt to share some literature with me, leaving only when I threaten to turn the hose on them.
I bolt for the ringing phone, sure that it’s Mike Huckabee calling to arrange a dinner date or perhaps a long walk on the beach, but it’s only the cable company again, inquiring about an overdue payment. (And for the last time, no one in this house ordered “Cheerleaders Wet & Wild Weekend 2: Cabo Style” on pay-per-view, though, if it goes to small-claims court, I will take the Fifth.)
I check my e-mail constantly, waiting for Barack Obama to ask for my support with a smiley face emoticon, but all I get is offer after offer for male enhancement products and a lot of stuff from Ron Paul that I delete immediately.
But when they do come a-calling, and they will, here’s some things the candidates need to know about me before they can win my endorsement:
-- I want change. Not the kind most voters want, but, you know, quarters, dimes, nickels. Then I can take all that change to the machine at the grocery store and get some big bills back, bills that won’t have those telltale fingerprints proving it was an outright bribe.
-- I want a Cabinet post, something without a lot of heavy lifting involved. Assistant ambassador to Cabo San Lucas. Undersecretary in charge of FCC pay-per-view monitoring. Special envoy to Pamela Anderson. Something along those lines.
-- I want a helicopter on call, 24-7. If trouble breaks out at a resort in Cabo, I want to be there with drink in hand. If Pamela Anderson is in crisis, I want to be on the ground before a hint of mascara hits a cheekbone. If my wife says, “Scott, can you run to the store for some hamburger buns?” I want to say, “No way, baby, but I can fly there.”
So I’m waiting. Let the courtship begin ... uh, I’m still waiting here. ... Hello? Hello?