Notes From the Presidential Campaign Trail

As you know, I am still running for President of the United States, and I am thrilled to report that my candidacy is picking up steam. I spent last week in Iowa, trying to figure out just what the hell a caucus was. It's a shame though, because my confusion caused me to miss my speech and therefore my chance at getting any votes. Well, they aren't really votes. Not in the traditional sense, anyway.

Here's the best I can describe the process of the Iowa Caucuses.

First, a candidate is brought before a crowd of maybe 300 people (these will be all of the attendees for the event). Said candidate then points to a young girl in the crowd, who is weighted down with lead-filled bags and tossed into a well. If she sinks, then the candidate has identified a girl who is pure of soul, and he/she moves onto the next round, where Howie Mandel awaits with 30 silver suitcases.

If the girl floats, however, she is deemed a witch, and the candidate a conjurer of evil souls, and both are burned at the stake. It's really hardcore!

This goes on and on. I never really followed what was happening, but I now suspect that I might be privy to a crime. But keeping with the spirit of the thing, I watched the entirety of the corn dance and the virgin sacrifices before all of the village elders retired to a windowless room and came out with the final tallies for each candidate. I am pretty sure Stephen Hawking was in that room, and took them through a political wormhole to get their results.

Regardless, Obama won the Democratic caucus (just beating out Hillary and Edwards) and Mike Huckabee won the Republican nod in a bit of a rout. His sermon, highlighted by his son hanging a canine for the group, really tipped some dedicated voters in his favor.

I received no votes. Damn. But I am confident about New Hampshire. I think they are gonna like me. Unfortunately, since I got here, I have been seated at the bar of the hotel New Hampshire, drinking slowly and steadily while doing my prep work for the big night. (Boy that Fred Thompson had bad breath.)

But Kucinich is a real sweetheart. While we were liquored up the other night, he hopped onto my knee and began listing the planks on his platform, and a young couple from Vermont mistook us for a ventriloquist act, and laughed and laughed as they walked out the door. Dennis was non-plussed; he just grabbed his beautiful bride and went up to his room.

I continued to press the flesh of the drunkards at the bar, and soon realized that I was not in New Hampshire at all; in fact I was in Winooski, Vermont. Oh sh*t! I quickly got the hell out of there.

Hopefully I will be better prepared for New Hampshire than I was for Iowa. But, I'm not making any promises. (Didn't they burn witches in New Hampshire, too?) This whole campaign thing looks like it's gonna be bloodier than I had originally thought.