Cass has nominated me for President. Of the United States, I think. (Note to Cass: you should let me know if you meant president of something else, like the National Dairy Farmers Association or Geeks Unlimited or whatever).
I am nodding politely in her direction and smiling. Thank you my dear. I think though that your poise and charm make you the better presidential contender. I see myself more as one of your back room deal-makers. Or perhaps a cabinet member. I could be your Director of Homeland Security, only I’d rename it the Department of Domestic Bliss. More Scope For the Imagination* in that one.
OK, maybe that’s just silly. But I realized as I thought about my presidential aspirations that by election time later this year, I will actually be old enough to run for president legally. The U.S. Constitution suggests that 25 is old enough for the House of Representatives, 30 for Senate, and 35 for President. The first two passed me by without a thought to running for elected office, but as 35 approaches (thoughts of Dante* drift lazily through my mind), I see that I should start taking this president thing seriously.
How to get started?
Realistically it’s too late to enter the race for one of the major parties. The Republicans and Democrats are already duking it out around the country to choose their nominees (this weekend, most notably, in Cass’s South Carolina for the Dems, and Florida for the GOP). So I guess I need some independent party.
So I guess that’s my assignment this week: Find a political party to lead to the White House.
Next time: More lame political jokes.
*Can anyone identify my two obscure literary references here? Snickerdoodles for anyone who can get both.