Looking Out My Backdoor: I think I'll run for president

I’m thinking of running for president.

You can’t run. You are too old and crippled. You walk with a cane.

Walking doesn’t have the same elan. Listen: “I’m walking for president.” Who would vote for that?

True, you won’t appeal to the youth. But consider, how many of the youth of today bother to vote?

Good point. By rights, young people should rule the world. “A Game Boy in every hand.” “Make Angry Birds, Not War.” But if the young people don’t care to rule, I have an even better chance. Besides, statistics are on my side. More old people than young. Look around. Every other person on the street is doddering or hobbling or slobbering. They’ll relate.

What does ‘relate’ mean?

Look it up. Didn’t Mrs. Hunter teach you anything?

Why are we having this inane conversation? What makes you think you qualify to run?

What does “inane” mean? I was born in Indianapolis, Indiana. The Heartland. That alone makes me qualified. And, I have an original copy of my birth certificate.

That’s impossible. If it is original it cannot be a copy. If it is a copy it cannot be original.

Following the frontier go-west-young-woman spirit of our glorious and mostly dispossessed ancestors, I moved to Montana. That has a certain inane appeal. Voters will relate.

You’re not only inane, you are insane.

That’s another qualification.

You must have a slogan. “Vote for the Crazy Idiot” won’t work.

Why not? People have been voting for crazy idiots for years, for centuries. But you are right. “Crazy Idiot” is a redundancy. You must choose either “crazy” or “idiot”. However, “Vote For the Doddering Old Fool” sounds good to me.

What will be your platform?

Hmmm. I must give that deep thought. Eureka! Platform heels. I’ll run on platform heels. Woohoo! Watch me go! I’ll get on Amazon immediately and shop for platform heels with style, class and bling. Is that another redundancy?

Certainly not. One might have style without having class. However, “class” and “bling” cannot be used in the same sentence. Bling cancels out class. Not that anybody will notice. One may have either class or bling.

I choose bling. Bling gets more votes.

How will you finance your campaign? You are living below the national poverty level. You couldn’t even rent a hall in Havre, Montana from which to launch your campaign. You are anonymous, not famous. Nobody’s ever heard of you, political animal though you pretend to be.

Your questions are easily answered. Look to the other runners to see how the system works. As soon as I announce my candidacy, money will flow from pockets of rich people. No problem. Anonymous is not a bad thing. Voters will see my name on the ballot and say, “Self, who is this of whom I’ve never heard? Can’t do any worse than these other losers. I’ll vote for her.”

Next thing you know, I’m living in the White House, feet up on the desk in the Oval Office, smoking cigars.

Hate to break up your pipe dream but you don’t smoke.

That’s true. Remember those bubble-gum cigars we used to buy when we were kids?

Now you’re making sense. That’s it. The song on which to hang your entire campaign — “I’m forever blowing bubbles.”

(Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com. Email [email protected].)