You might not know this, but back in 2000, I ran for President of the United States. Or at least I’m told I am; I wrote my statement of intent and Paul, co-founder of The American Jerk, said he would handle the fundraising, and that was the last I heard of it as far as I can recall between it being year seven of a fine 21-year alcoholic haze and Paul constantly distracting me by shoving his new Goddamned Rolex Hyperion in my fucking face.
I did it mostly on a lark; after all, I was only 28 and therefore legally ineligible to serve even if I was somehow elected. And obviously I didn’t take it seriously at all, because back in those days, only a dingbat would have thought that the American people would elect a serious drunkard with a sophomoric sense of humor and absolutely no experience governing on a national level. Unfortunately, it didn’t occur to me that the Supreme Court might elect one.
So obviously I missed what turned out to be a legitimate chance at the Peak Seat, so I never bothered running again and I’ve never regretted it. Until now. I’m thinking that it might be my time to chuck my hat into the ring and enter the national Presidential debate, even in spite of an extra twelve years of unpresidential behavior including, but not limited to, a Jagermeister-fueled call, on the public airwaves, to alleviate a Boston winter cold snap by nuking Calgary.
Particularly if it means I get to debate this self-important douchenozzle.
Newt Gingrich will be crippled in the Republican primary race. The only reason I can think of for him to run for the Republican nomination for President would be that he has rareified personal tastes and his wife is tired of getting weird looks at the dry cleaners when she picks up the gimp suits and giant diapers.
Newt’s past is so checkered, particularly by conservative Republican standards, that it makes me look like a CPAC darling, and I have made life choices that have, more than once, put me in situations where I had to choose between being potentially arrested for either public urination now or wait until it turned into an arson charge.
That’s right: on paper, I am a better Republican than Newt Gingrich, and I’m the guy who called Michelle Malkin a cunt and said that John McCain should rub his scrotum on a nuclear warhead. There isn’t a plank in the conservative platform that I couldn’t use to beat Newt about the neck and head with… if I weren’t so convinced, based on this doomed “potential” candidacy, that he would like it.
Let’s go down the list, shall we?