Postcard from the Campaign Trail

It’s always an adventure to go behind the scenes at a gathering of the Presidential candidates, and I try not to miss one because there’s usually an open bar and you just know that eventually Hillary is going to punch out Obama I feel it's my duty as an American and the political process is quite fascinating.

I was at a Republican gathering a few weeks ago, reveling in all the American-ness the Republicans always exude like Hi-Karate aftershave, and I decided to talk to a few of the candidates to see what was new.

Fred Thompson was snoring peacefully in the corner and nobody seemed to want to wake him up, so I tiptoed by and found Mitt Romney, who was busy stuffing a dog leash and a roll of duct tape into his suit jacket pocket.

“Nice to see you!” Mitt boomed, “I remember you! You’re from Massachusetts, the state I was governor of and have never been to in my life!”

An aid tapped him on the shoulder and Mitt twitched.

“Abortion!” he exclaimed. “I’ve always been opposed, at least as long as I’ve been opposed, which was before I wasn’t opposed, which I never was!”

The aid frowned and tugged at the candidate’s elbow. Mitt turned on him.

“What? I’m opposed to abortion, aren’t I?” he asked.

The aid took out a day-planner and began looking through it, flipping pages. “September?” he asked. “It’s still September?”

“Of course it is,” Mitt snapped. “I’d be a pretty foolish candidate if I didn’t know what month it is.”

“Then you’re still opposed to abortion,” the aid said with relief, snapping the book shut.

“Always have been!” Mitt boomed with a gleam in his eye.

I excused myself and was heading for the food table when Rudy Giuliani stopped me.

“Hey, Look at this!” Rudy said.

As I watched he squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead furrowed, and his mouth became a thin, taught line –he was squeezing his butt cheeks together hard enough to crack a walnut. Rudy’s face went white and I was about to say something when I realized that his face wasn’t just pale- it had actually turned bright white. What hair he has left had turned red, like flag stripes across his wide white scalp, and the numbers 9-11 had appeared in blue across his forehead. Rudy finally released and the colors faded.

“Like it?” he asked, gasping for air. “I had fiber optics implanted all over my head! I think this will get the message across!”

He took a deep breath and scrunched up again and the red white and blue returned- and then he lost consciousness and slid onto the floor.

I stepped over Rudy and went to look for the bar. I’d had enough politics for one day, or at least enough politics while sober.

Next Week: The Democrats