Beats Entropy

I have oft spoken of my fascination with American politics; the vibe, the hustle, the back alley intrigue. I’ve longed to take the journey from corrupt city councilman, to cagey Washington insider, to publicly shamed congressman. Sadly, the closest I will ever come is beltway sniper in a faded Walter Mondale mask; my temperament and citizenship ill-suited for the heavy duties of public office. So, in lieu of bearing the conch, I’ve decided to wet my beak in the back splash of the big trough: I’m going to be a political speech writer.

In an attempt to mend the partisan divide all of my speeches will be equally applicable to any candidate, in any party…that happens to have a candidate running in the current American presidential election. Normally I wouldn’t swing for the fences out of the gate (maybe pen some pro bono anti-union rhetoric), but given there are only two weeks left in the race, I don’t really have time to work the pitch count[1].

Since David Gergen won’t answer my fan mail, I’m going to have to put the first one up on this site, and hope that each party does its due diligence in seeking me out [2]. It’s a little light of specific policy, but I think I captured the necessary spirit.

(See draft of speech below)

A nation unto itself

I didn’t come here today to sell you a lie; to pay down the truth with flowery words and colorful stories. I ain’t got time for it, and you ain’t got patience for politics as usual. I’m not here to talk about Wall Street, or Main Street….I’m here to talk about Our Street: America. Because Our Street isn’t its economy, or policies, or questionable standing in the world: It’s the real America, the one you can’t chart on a graph.

And yeah, there are some who say we have become history’s mistress: courted, held in fascination, and then abandoned. But these men, bookish weaklings for the most part, are in error. America is no man’s dalliance, no era’s whore. We are the dowdy fishwife to eternity: Compelling in our youth, crushing in our decline… and always able to browbeat our husband into coming home at night. We have broken destiny’s sprit, and lowered fortune’s self-esteem such that it can never think to leave us. We are America, and America is America!

A nation like no other, founded by outlaws and puritans; wastrels and vagabonds; Calvinist and Hobbits…all seeking freedom, succor, and unfettered pistol play.  A nation that inspired the French revolution, automated industry, and captured the people who would later create rock and roll. That has to count for something!

We had the courage to drop an atomic bomb… on actual people … twice…when no other nation has ever had the sack to do it once.  That, my friends, was the fire of Prometheus… and the knowledge it brought: Don’t fuck with America. God damn us all to hell if that doesn’t mean something!

I know we’re going through tough times. Hard times. Why just last night I was watching a sunset with Joe the Plumber, his burly, feces-caked hands stoking my neck… and I asked him “Joe the plumber …are we gonna be alright?”.  He looked at me, Joe the Plumber did, tears in his silver dollar eyes, his sewer braised skin shining deep mahogany, and he said “We’re America, if we ain’t, then there never  was no all right anywise”.  Now, I don’t know entirely what that means…but I got the gist of it; and isn’t that what America is about: getting the gist of things…finding that common thread that leads us mostly through the night; or at least sews us together in the darkness. For together we are strongest.

It is time to unite: secular and divine; rich and poor; paper and plastic, disparate elements held together by dignity and occasional gerrymandering. It’s time for Whites and Blacks to move beyond the blameless trauma of the past (largely caused by misunderstandings and poor historical records), to rise up against the true threats of our time: Terrorism, the environment, deficit spending, and perhaps the Mexicans, as they steal and refuse to employ any shirt button save the top one. Who does that?

For here, in America, where Jesus slew Paul Bunyon in a tavern knife fight, and then offered up the great blue ox as tribute to his father, the Lord. Or maybe that was Davey Crockett…only he couldn’t even fight off the Mexican army, so it probably wasn’t. But that’s besides the point. Here, in America, we are not defined by our actions, but by our beliefs. We are not citizens of the world, we are citizens of America: The America that exists in our hearts, and minds, and movies, and a couple of our shorter books. Nothing is ever going to change that…unless you vote for the other guy. So don’t. Vote for me. Please.

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[1] Baseball also only has a couple weeks left…so I need to exhaust my unused sport metaphor stores.

[2] Should they do so, I imagine I would become thick with riches during the ensuing bidding war for my services.