There’s a whole lot of sniping going on among conservatives about the Republican presidential candidates. Not a surprise, given the rise of the new media, and, overall, I think vigorous debate is a healthy thing (although I do worry a bit about how much of the snark is going to wind up as sound bites in Obama’s campaign ads next year). My own campaign has failed to gain traction; unfortunately, most respondents to my research team’s surveys seem to think that paquismo is some kind of spicy salsa dip. Sensing this, the competition has been swamping me with invitations to throw my support behind one candidate or another. For example, I recently received a letter from Mitt Romney:
You’ve run a great race, but since I’m destined to win the nomination anyway, why not associate yourself with the in-crowd right now? I will need a man with your vast international experience to assist my foreign policy team, perhaps in an ambassadorial role, particularly since there is much work to do in repairing our relationship with, shall we say, Monaco? Take a day or two to think it over. But don’t delay too long – I might change my mind.
Warmest personal regards,
Then I got an email from Newt Gingrich:
I would like to invite you to join forces with my presidential campaign. Together, we can rekindle the vision of the founding fathers, the dream of a nation dedicated to personal freedom and rooted in veneration for the original precepts of our sacred constitution.
If that doesn’t work, we can fall back on Plan B, under which I will seize the government, establish a junta and arrest the Supreme Court. I think you would be ideal as the Governor-General of Florida, incidentally.
Ron Paul telephoned and left a message on my answering machine. At first I thought it was my Aunt Peaches, calling to complain about her swollen feet, but I quickly discovered my mistake.
Paul: Hi, Paco. You know, this campaign is exhausting! This is the first time I’ve had a minute to sit down and put my feet up in weeks. Anyway, you’ve no doubt been watching the news, and you’ve seen how my faithful Paul-bots have been helping me build momentum. I’ve got a proposition for you: come join me, and I’ll find a nice spot for you on the domestic side of government. Unless you’re ready to renounce all that Zionist nonsense, in which case I might be willing to give you some kind of international posting – maybe ambassador to Iran. Call me.
Rick Perry simply sent me a cowboy hat with a hand-scribbled note: “Merry Christmas, Pancho!”
Well, I’m still thinking ‘em all over (and by “all”, I mean “not quite all”).What’s the word out there in Paco Nation?