Politics in America 11: Putting the Vice to President

When the convention looked around for a candidate for Vice President, they didn’t have to go far. Maynard Gee was their man. For a man who did not want to work, Vice President was the perfect job. Since P F was in great shape healthwise, Maynard Gee wanted to be Vice President. He’d wanted the job for a long time. Other politicians hear their name mentioned for the job and they run like hell. It’s no decent job for a grownup. It’s like being the Prince of Wales. You’re waiting for Mommy to die. Mommy never dies.

When Maynard Gee was nominated, he thought he’d just about died and gone to heaven. After all, he worked at his not working. But he loved speechifying. He always said just the right thing. And it was always memorable. As he ended his fifteen second speech at the podium, he said the memorable words that people would remember for generations, “We promise America nothing. Even less than nothing we will deliver.”

P F Sneeze, the Presidential Nominee for the Do Naughties, joined his running mate on the stage. They raised their hands in victory. It was the ticket that would make history.

Sometime later, he called home to give B S the news.

“You went and did what?” B S Pudding said. “They want you for president?”

She put the phone down and about laughed herself silly and all the way to Snort Holler. She couldn’t believe it. A pig farmer for President? And not just any pig farmer. A pig farmer from Weazel Sneeze. And not just any pig farmer from Weazel Sneeze. A pig farmer named P F Sneeze. Who in his ever-loving right mind?

P F said the right thang to convince his wife. “You get to buy a new dress. And a new pair of shoes.”

“I do.”

“You do. On top of that, you will be my campaign manager. What do you think of that?”

“Why would I want to go and do that?”

“Because you can make sure I loose this thang. I gotta loose. And you’re the smart one in the family. I don’t know what came over me. How did I get myself in such a heap of trouble? I got folks around me who have folks around them telling me that I am the greatest thing since peanut butter. I just want to get back to the farm and see y’all and all the little piggies. Here it’s like the time Big Bad Wolf blew the three little pigs’houses down.”

“I don’t want to be First Lady,” B S Pudding said what all the wives say to their ambitious politician husbands.

“And we can’t lose by just a little bit,” P F said. “I want to lose big time. As bad as McGovern.”

“Who?” B S asked.

“See what I mean. Nobody remembers him. I want to be that guy. Then they will leave me alone forever.”

“I’ll do it. I will be your campaign manager. And you can ignore me just like you always do, Hon.”

P F Sneeze hung up the phone, happier than a hog in a pen-ful of slop. He would lose and he would lose big time. Little did he know B S Pudding had other plans.

Next Week Betty Sue Pudding doing her Betty Sue Thang

Politics in America 7: When a party is a party. Not.

Known to one and all as the Do Evies, the Do Everything Party had reigned the last sixteen years. They had bought up Congress. They had stacked the Court with a stack of blueberry pancakes with hot butter and maple syrup. So when the Do Naughties showed up at the Court, The Supremes kept ruling with a you-can’t-hurry-love decree.

And The Big Guy had delivered on his presidential campaign promise. There would be a chicken in every home in America. “Eat Right, Eat Chicken” had been his campaign. He had not only delivered on that promise. He had made sure every household had two chickens. The problem was they were live chickens. Two live chickens were delivered to every household once a year. Folks got their chickens but they had to supply the chicken feed. It ended up that a lot of homes adopted the cluckers as pets. It’s a real heartbreakers when a child appears on the local news crying, “They killed Alice.” Of course, Alice was the child’s pet chicken. It was enough to turn the American people vegetarian. And the beef folks were not happy about that.

So it was time for the Do Evies to get their buttocks kicked out of office but good. After all, there is only so much people will take. There was no way the American people were going to elect Little Twerp, the Vice President, for President. He was like a pimple on the buttocks. On top of everything else, there was the dog issue. Yes, Little Twerp had a dog. Well, let’s just say he had a dog. He went out hunting with the dog. He had been partial to hunting since he was knee high to a grasshopper. Unfortunately an unfortunate happened. He shot the dog the way Dick Cheney shot his lawyer. The lawyer recovered, the dog did not. Let’s just say that if you are a dog or a lawyer you do not want to go hunting with the Vice President. At least, not that little twerp of a Vice President.

There was such an outcry over the dog. There was such mourning and gnashing of teeth, Congress shut down the government. The government ended up burying Spot in Arlington National Cemetery.

All this is to say that Little Twerp should not have gotten the Do Evies nomination for President. But he had the goodies on everybody. As long as he kept them in cold storage, the Do Evies could continue to do what they had been doing for all those years. Hanging on to the chicken concession. It was worth billions.

As you can see there was no way the Do Naughties were going to lose the election. Unless they screwed it up. Fortunately the Party Elders had heard of Murphy’s Law. You know the one that goes anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Or stuff happens. And it happens a lot.

Next Wednesday, Chapter 8: What’s a convention without a convention?

Politics in America 1: Introducing the Great Man

News from the Outback or the Great Beyond or Uncle Bardie’s Bag of Tricks: This is my 401st post. Don’t know whether I should give myself a big pat on the back or a big Whoopee or just keep doing this. Oh well, 401 down and 7 gadzillion to go.


There have been many great political novels. This isn’t one of them. And any facsimile to the truth is purely accidental.

Chapter 1
Introducing the Great Man.

He had not always been The Great Man. “Just how did he become The Great Man?” you ask. That’s easy to answer. They asked him to run for President. The Party Elders of the Do-Naught Political Party did, that is. The P.E.s, as they were called. He was the obvious choice. He looked the part. If they had not ask him to run, some young whipper-snapper would have lost the election for The Party and it would’ve been another eight years out of power. They could not have allowed that, now could they? No, they had no choice.

When they came to The Do-Naught Party’s Convention, there had been no clear-cut nominee. Who was The Party going to give the nomination?

The Big Guy of The Do-All Party had been president for eight years. His Party was getting ready to nominate The President-in-Waiting, his Vice President, better known to One-and-All as L T, Little Twerp.

The Great Man’s Party, the DoNaughts, had to do something to prevent that little re-dunce-dancy of a Vice President from winning the election. They had been out of power almost as long as the Democrats had before the FDR sweeps in the early nineteen thirties. What to do?

When he came to the Convention, he was not The Great Man. He was not even a Dark Horse or a Dark Horse’s hinny. He certainly wasn’t one of The Grand Old Men of The Party or The Young Turks. He had only been the Mayor of Weazel Sneeze for fifteen minutes, and this was his first convention. When The P.E.s looked around and saw him, they were pleased. Very pleased. Finally they had their man. He looked like a President.

As Ronald Reagan knew, that was the most important qualification for the job. You had to look the part.

If you take a twenty dollar bill out of your wallet and looked at the face on it, it’s Old Hickory, one of the most popular presidents who ever was. That was what The Great Man looked like. Andy Jackson.

Politics In America is his story.

Chapter 2 next Wednesday.