A bit of good news here at Camp White: Wolf has returned to us! His battle with Ann Coulter on the Terrace at the Four Seasons Saginaw left him seriously injured and he has spent the past several weeks in the care of the talented Dr. Khan, who nursed him back to health. While he is a man of few words, Wolf has not said anything at all since returning to duty yesterday. I tried to thank him for coming to my aid, but he merely nodded and hurried to change into his work clothes. Outwardly, he seemed healthy enough, save a single injury: his right hand was blackened and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burned away. He noticed me looking at it, and quickly stuffed it into the pocket of his coat before hurrying off to his rounds.

Later, I paid a visit to Dr. Khan to receive one my StumpStrong injections, and took the opportunity to find out a few details about Wolf’s adventure. It seems that the battle was a harrowing one. Wolf had not given him many of the details, but apparently the wound to his hand had been life-threatening. What appeared at first to be a simple but extensive burn turned out to be something much more sinister. In fact, Khan had to use some of his strongest and most arcane cures to prevent the condition from spreading up his arm and consuming his entire body. This new information made clear to me the depth of Wolf’s bravery and devotion to this campaign. I sought him out to convey my respect and gratitude.

I caught up with Wolf on the balloon pad, where he was triple-checking the lines. At first he seemed hesitant to speak, but when I explained the full reach of my gratitude, he broke down and roared repeatedly, then began making punching motions with his fists (this, I am told, is how Germans cry). When he regained his composure, he gave me all of the thrilling details of his story:

It seems that shortly after I made my escape in the balloon, one of Ann Coulter’s energy blasts caught Wolf square in the chest, knocking him onto his back. She stood over him, eyes aflame, mouth aleak with pus, and conjured lightening in her fingertips with the intent of finishing him. Wolf, merely pretending to be unconscious, suddenly sprang up and knocked Coulter off balance, her attack sending sparks uselessly into the sky. He thrust his powerful shoulders forward, knocking her up and over the terrace railing, and with a shriek she began to fall. In a fit of humanity, Wolf caught her hand and stopped her fall. To his surprise, glee, not fear, filled her eyes, and the large snake-emblazoned ring on her left hand came suddenly alight with a searing green flame. Wolf cried out and, unable to hold on any longer, dropped the grinning Coulter onto the pavement below. Had it not been for Dr. Khan’s timely action when he returned to Headquarters, desperately injured, he might not have lived to tell the tale.

The marvelous heroism of this tale inspired me to give Wolf a generous raise, which he grudgingly accepted. Unfortunately, Dr. Khan says that Wolf’s hand may never fully recover. Apparently, though, Wolf was not ruffled by this news. In his words, “a withered hand does not seem an unreasonable exchange for a world without Ann Coulter.” Amen, brave Hun.

I’ve been at this for nine months now, and I have to say: it’s exhausting. An election is a grueling two-year string of the most brutal days imaginable, each packed solid with balloon rides, all-you-can-eat buffets, and handshakes. Being a sociopath, I’ve been able to weather the worst of the emotional damage. Physically, however, I’ve begun to show signs of wear. The problem is that sometimes I just feel a bit too fatigued to give as much as I ought to. A few weeks back, at the pancake breakfast, Anselmo looked concerned. He tousled my hair and gazed into my face, his eyes forlorn. He suggested that I get a little rest, and I nearly slapped him. “Rest is for the unemployed,” I thundered, “One does not win elections by resting.” He continued to plead with me, and at last we agreed that he would call in a doctor to examine me and make suggestions about how to stay healthy during this stressful period.

Unfortunately, Anselmo brought in some quack who thought he could make me better with diet plans and meditation. Where I come from doctors give medicine, so I dismissed this dude and found a doctor who shared that philosophy. His name is Khan, and he is a freaking genius. He’s been so helpful that I hired him full-time to accompany me. He is from Spain, where he gives medical advice to many top politicians. Due to legal troubles at home, he recently moved to the States and set up a small sports-medicine practice. I found him on the internet and told him to come by. Anselmo seemed skeptical, and hovered silently in the background throughout our entire meeting.

The physical was an real wake-up call. I had no idea that this whole endeavor was taking such an awful toll on my body. I was lacking pep, that much was absolutely clear. Also, my strength and endurance were atrocious, and my BMI was straight bullshit. I was a bit crestfallen, I have to say. But Dr. Khan said not to worry about it. He said that the modern American Presidential Campaign is, physically speaking, equivalent to winning the Tour de France while hitting 73 home runs. That really put things in perspective for me, since I’ve never done either of those things before. How, then, could I be expected to sustain that pace for another year? According to Khan, the answer is simple: training.

Here are a few things you may not know. Barack Obama typically stays up for 70 hours at a time and gives nearly three speeches an hour. Mike Huckabee has such a well-developed handshake that he can completely crush a constituents hand, reducing the bones to a fine ashlike dust. During September of this year, Hillary Clinton benchmarked a sustained flip-flop frequency of 12 times per second. They don’t get those kind of results with a few bananas and some soy protein; these candidates all observe highly rigorous training regimens.

It just so happens that Khan is a practitioner of this type of training. His program is called StumpStrong^TM, and it’s really quite simple: just a few dozen intramuscular injections each morning, followed up in the afternoon by a blood transfusion or two. In addition, I will be subject to twice-weekly “boosters” of a supplement cocktail, administered anally. Other than that, Khan says that if I just observe a balanced exercise schedule, I should notice a marked improvement in just a few weeks. If after an initial trial period I am unhappy with the results, we can look into some of the more involved procedures, such as gene therapy or having a second heart installed. Dr. Khan has done several of these “dualies,” and says they work out quite well.

I guess like everything else in this crazy world, campaigning for office has changed a lot. Back in the day, a couple of lines of blow off of a hooker’s ass was enough to give a Candidate “the edge.” Now, we start campaigning right after the Inauguration and have to have doctors on retainer just to compete. At any rate, I think things might be finally looking up!

As required by Federal law, Anselmo has just released my 3Q campaign financials to the Federal Election Commission. They were on my desk this morning, and I almost soiled myself. Trying to become President is unbelievably expensive. I guess I knew that $150 million is a lot of money, but feels like a lot more when you write the checks. No worries, though. There is a bit of money coming in, so I’m not going to have to pay all of the expenses out of my pocket, but it’s still pretty impressive to see all of the expenses laid out all at once. Always eager to be selectively honest to my prospective constituents, I’ve decided to include an itemized list of my campaign expenditures (with a few comments) for your perusal.

Disbursements

• Travel
  • Blimp: $3,899,423.34
  • Hot Air Balloon: $24,389.00
  • Hot Air Balloon Fuel: $189.99

  then you’re going to have to send me a little change. In bills.

  • Awesome Dirt Bike: $8,400.00
  • Goddamn Taxis: $1,400.66
  • Stuckey’s: $8.42
• Meals
  • Surf and Turf: $6,483.88
  • Turf and Surf: $1,977.02
  • Tendercrisps: $483.23
  • Jagermeister: $850 (roughly)
  • Red Bull: $819.08
• Entertainment
  • Krumping Lessons: $1,400.00
  • Gentlemen’s Club: $72,000.78
• Weaponry and Defenses
  • Shaped Charges: $23,000.00
  • Chinese Stars: $85.99

Receipts

• Individuals
  • Rich White: $36,000,000.00
  • Anselmo BelGrande: $225.00
  • Cletus Merriwether III: $150,000.00
• Organizations
  • NAACP (a different one): $4,800.00
  • Westchester Junior League: $250,382.44
  • Illuminati: $800,000.00

Looking closely at this list, I’m starting to feel a bit discouraged. The only people who are giving any money to my Campaign are my friends and relatives. It’s like I’m a ten-year-old or something doing a walk-a-thon or selling some goddamn candy bars for my school. Jesus, people, don’t you guys want some change in this country? If so, you can return the favor in advance by sending some of your extra change this way. Thanks and Godspeed.

It’s time to hit the road and spread the Word to every Joe Schmo, John Q. Public, and Paddy O’Averagedipshit out there in this great land of ours. A Presidential Candidate, however, doesn’t just jump into his trusty Buick and switch on the cruise control. No, citizens, it takes a very special vehicle to help me and my crew get the message out there, and I just picked it up today. Let me backtrack for a sec. When it came time to plan this little trip, Anselmo suggested we purchase a bus. Real original there buddy. We all remember John McCain’s “Straight-Talk Express,” don’t we? “Express to where?” you might ask. In McCain’s case, apparently straight to mediocreburg. No, for this campaign, we needed something special.

I suggested a train, but Anselmo squashed that one. Apparently trains only travel on tracks, which means no Stuckey’s, and that’s a no-go. When I’m on a trip, I can only use the bathroom at Stuckey’s (don’t ask). Then, I placed an order for the “Doublespeak Doublewide,” which I thought would be a wonderful way not only to travel in style, but also to connect with a lot of the poor people in the world, who I hear live in doublewide trailers. And I don’t blame them, because they’re pretty nice: it had a well appointed wine cellar, a screening room, and a golden toilet. Unfortunately, when Anselmo and I showed up to drive it away, they told me the damn thing wasn’t street legal. What a kick in the ass! The damn thing didn’t even have an engine in it. I sent it over to one of Peggy’s hillbilly cousins to live in, but I kept the toilet.

Then I figured it out: blimp. That’ll really get their attention, I thought. So I called a blimp company and commissioned one. I just approved the final designs this morning, and let me tell you, she’s a beaut. Her name is “The Truthenburg Zeppelin,” but she’s not going to be ready until January, which kind of sucks. What to do until then? Well, luckily the guy who is building her also happens to be into hot-air ballooning, so offered to sell me one of his finest specimens. Yes, folks, the Hot-Air Express is ready to fly!



Needless to say, I was pretty psyched. As you can see, she’s a beaut. I outfitted her with a wide variety of amenities, including sandbags and a wicker gondola. There’s enough room for Anselmo and myself, as well as a small cooler and a suitcase. It’s cozy, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. After all, it’s freezing up there, so on long cross-country trips Anselmo and I will want to huddle up anyway. The only drawback that I can see is wind. My engagements will need to be planned a little more carefully, and be subject to change at a moments notice. I’ll leave all of that up to Pepper. Get ready, nation, the Rich White message of changeful hope is about to take to the skies!

Well, Americans, it looks like you’ll finally have a reason to hit the polls next October. Yes, folks, today my faithful assistant (and now Campaign manager) Anselmo called some people and did the necessary footwork. Long story short: I’m accepting donations! While embarking on a presidential campaign is undoubtedly the most daunting task I have yet faced, I face it armed with the same tools that have given me an advantage all of my life: lots of money, and a very little melanin. To explain, let me tell you the story of how I first realized that I ought to run for president in the first place.

I looked in the mirror the other day, and noticed something about myself that I hadn’t noticed before. I mean, sure, I guess I had always known I was white, but these days, you spend so much time trying not to see the color of a person’s skin, you forget what color yours is! Anyway, noticing this simple fact got me thinking. I have a lot of ideas, and I like free trips, so I called my accountant. He confirmed my expectations: I’m very rich. Combined with my skin color, that makes me a political dynamo! People like me have had this nation on lockdown since it’s inception. I’m a shoe in!

My maid, Consuela, thinks I’m crazy. She says that I have no experience with politics and that my elevated position isolates me from the experience of the common American, and therefore undermines my ability to adequately represent all but a small minority at the top of the income gradient. Furthermore, she asserts that my vast network of alliances and contacts in the business world may prove an encumbrance later on, as I find myself beholden to their interests over those of the electorate. She’s not from here, so I forgive her for her ignorance. Besides, I don’t take advice from someone who works for two bucks an hour. You don’t need a Political Science degree to shake somebody’s hand, you just need a hand. Plus, I went to Yale (so my grandad was rich too, in your face Edwards!).

My next call was to my contact in the Freemasons. I won’t name him (but you know who he is), and he assured me that, since they had not yet decided who the next President would be, and since I am a member in good standing, I would be considered for the position at the next convocation of the Death’s Head Council. That means that the whole burrito is basically in the bag, so I grabbed Anselmo and said: “Road Trip!” He’s getting everything ready for the ol’ campaign trail.

I made another call, this time to my PR firm. They seemed pretty psyched about doing some demographics studies and giving me a few talking points. I don’t plan on opening my mouth unless I’m damn sure people are going to like what comes out of it. My lawyer called me at that point, and I asked him to get me a copy of the Constitution. Apparently that has some good stuff in it (it did seem a bit long, so I’m having Anselmo read it). Then I called my accountant back and asked him to get creative on some fundraising options. He suggested I call some of my friends in the media to try and get a little help in the BNR department (biased news reporting), since that way I can get around some of those pesky campaign finance regulations. Sure, a few dozen dummy corporations and offshore accounts will have to be set up, but no worries. I’ve never been one to shy away from a hard day’s paperwork. Or at least my secretary hasn’t.

Well, it’s time to start strategizing, so I’d better get to it. I have enlisted Anselmo BelGrande, my talented friend and confidante, as my campaign manager, and he has some big things in mind. Before I go, though, I want to express my sincere gratitude for all of the help and words of encouragement I have received since I began contemplating this endeavor. Without the support of you, the really, really, tiny little people, people like me wouldn’t have something soft separating us from the ground.

Fellow Americans. At 2:30 PM EST, my close personal friend and advisor Anselmo BelGrande filed, on my behalf, papers with the Federal Election Commission to establish a presidential exploratory committee. I am perhaps as surprised as anyone to find myself contemplating a bid for the highest office in the land. And let me tell you, should I run and be elected, the first thing I’m going to do is abolish all of this “exploratory committee” business. The paperwork is grueling, I’m told. I was up all night firing people to get the thing to press by noon!

Anyway, I was speaking of my surprise at the thought of running for president. Had someone approached me two years ago and told me I would be forming a committee of this magnitude, I would have laughed. These last few months, however, I have listened to voices of our citizens in towns across this great country of ours, from Alexandria to Manassas, and one thing is clear: the nation is ready for a change. A presidential change, I mean. It’s mandated by the Constitution, you know. Every four years, and all that. And I don’t think Bush is popular enough to win again, so somebody’s going to need to step up, right?

To begin a metaphor which I will clumsily belabor and soon overextend, I feel as if we, the American people, now walk a path between two gleaming rails, extending hither and thither into infinity. Days and nights shrink uneventfully into obscurity, and yet no train ever passes. Nevertheless, we walk, never sure if we are moving toward some great good or to some fearsome evil. Desperately, we hope for a sign, lest we walk further in the wrong direction. Perhaps I am the one to take a knee and press my ear against the cold metal of the tracks in hopes that I might find the way forward.

Did that make any sense? I’m afraid it was unclear, since putting my ear to the tracks wouldn’t help determine which way was forward. And besides, there isn’t really a “forward” on train tracks, since trains go both ways on them. Let me do it over, this time with ships. I have a great one that uses ships, and I’m a sort of astrolabe (these are old ships I’m talking about). Never mind, I’m being told to move on.

Anyway, to put it in very literal terms, I’ve been told by people across this great land (mainly my handlers who follow me everywhere I go to protect me from the public) that I have an excellent chance of winning a presidential election. I want to reiterate, though, that I am not yet actually running for president. I’m only forming an exploratory committee to determine when I should announce my actual candidacy. I’ll be in touch. Power to the people (specifically, me)!