Tag Archives: President

5 Signs You’re Currently Running For The Republican Nomination For President

People tell me all the time, “Rob, I’m definitely not running for the Republican nomination. No way.” But are you sure? More and more Republicans are throwing their hats in the ring, and as the race fills up with 2016 hopefuls, the statistical likelihood that you’re one of them shoots up accordingly. “But Rob,” you’ll say, “there’s no way. I’m not even a Republican.”


Again, are you positive? I’ve heard rumors that former New York Governor George Pataki only yesterday found out that he was officially a Republican presidential candidate. “Really? Well that’s certainly news to me,” Gov. Pataki was heard to have said upon seeing his name in the papers for the first time in years. 2016 is reportedly still wide open for the GOP. Here’s how to find out if you’re in the running for the Republican bid.

1. Are you from Texas?

I only ask because, aside from insisting that Dr. Pepper is the best soda on the market, or spreading lies on the Internet that “real chili doesn’t have any beans,” there’s nothing Texans love to do more than run for President. George W. Bush was President, and that guy habitually screamed “Texas!” a minimum of 10 times at random points throughout the day. Yee-haw!

This year isn’t any different. So far we’ve got Texas Senator Ted Cruz, Texas Governor Rick Perry, Texas born businesswoman Carly Fiorina, and Texas former Governor of Florida Jeb Bush all officially in the race. And this is still early. There are dozens of Republicans expected to join in before the week is over. How many more will be Texans? Enough is enough. We get it Texas, you’re big, you were once your own country, Austin’s weird, and you don’t like to be messed with. Can we please give some other states a shot? It’s like America is trying to watch a movie, and Texas is always swaggering in, sitting right up front in the very first row, and refusing to take off its giant cowboy hat. We can’t see back here!

2. Do you think you’re tougher than Hillary Clinton?

Have you ever tried to convince someone else, or yourself, that you’d be tougher on national defense than Hillary Clinton? That’s a red flag. Do you feel in your heart of hearts that the Hillary Clinton Secretary of State email scandal made America less strong at home and abroad? That’s another red flag. And although you’d never admit it, do you look at Hillary and think to yourself, I could totally rock that pantsuit better than her? That’s three red flags.

If there’s one defining characteristic uniting the entire Republican field, it’s that Hillary Clinton is not so tough, and that you’d be a lot tougher. So while your insisting that you’d be tougher than Hillary Clinton doesn’t necessarily mean you’re running for President, there’s got to be some reason that you won’t stop talking about her toughness, and if you’re going to keep saying “Hillary” and “tough” over and over again, it’s a little less weird for everyone if you just admit that you’re running for President.

Read the rest at Thought Catalog

Election 2012: The Recap

The election is over. I spent that night watching TV, and the results came in so fast that I almost missed the announcement. I had read all of these articles the day before saying how that, under certain circumstances, we might not have had a clear victor until mid December. So when all of the networks started calling it before 11pm, it was kind of surprising.

I wonder what it must have felt like for Mitt Romney, a guy who has been campaigning for President since 2006 really. Even the day of the election, he’s out there, holding rallies, firing up supporters. So was Obama. Up until the very end, everyone said it was anybody’s game, and so I guess each side had a legitimate hope that they could win. But as Pennsylvania went for the President and then all of the other swing states followed suit, and then NBC starts calling it and eventually Fox News does the same, I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like for Romney, for his team.

To get so close, only to be denied right at the very end. I can’t see how these guys can go out in front of their crowds and make concession speeches. How do you hold your head up like that? I’d want to just crawl away somewhere and disappear. And you have to get on the phone and call up your opponent, the guy who you’ve been trading barbs with for the past year, lobbing insults across the airways.

And then what’s the next day like? To all of the sudden have a campaign go from running at full capacity to the very next day just shutting down? It’s not just like losing your job. It’s like being the head of a business that overnight just goes belly up, dead in its tracks.

I can’t stand the gloating on Facebook, which is super hypocritical, because I’m right on the frontlines of it. I’m like a lieutenant, a Facebook amateur political commentary lieutenant. But I hate it. I hate it when I see comments from the other side, the opposing political viewpoint. A part of me just says, OK Rob, just take a deep breath and let it go. Just ignore it. Don’t feel like you have to post something of your own. It’s going to be a very fleeting sense of satisfaction at best.

Sometimes I’ll listen to my own advice. Other times I can’t help myself. I’ll throw something out there, something partisan, something divisive. Whatever, I already said it was stupid. But it was all of these small little comments, these occasional back-and-forths that, over time, they built up into something that made me feel like I had a personally vested interest in who won the campaign. And this was all very outside of the issues, outside of politics. A bigger part of it came down to, I didn’t want to have to go on to Facebook and see all the gloating from the other side if Romney won. It would have eaten at me from inside.

I kind of know how it felt. During the 2004 election, the first one that I could vote for, I was positive leading up to voting day that John Kerry was going to destroy George W. Bush. But what I felt as I watched that night unfold on TV, as the results came in a way that I hadn’t anticipated, that sinking feeling, staring at the screen, hoping for some “Breaking News” update that would tell me it was all a big joke. And then afterwards I would watch these political commentators and these smug right wing guys in suits would say stuff like, “Well, it’s evident that America is a fairly conservative country.” And I just sat there, boiling with impotent rage, unable to even properly let out the frustration that was building up inside. But why? Why was I angry? Was my life going to be that fundamentally different than it was before?

During this whole election season I had the same fear that it might happen again. And when it didn’t, I experienced a very hollow but palpable sense of elation. It’s over. I didn’t have to face a reality that I had not properly thought out. But the first thing I did was log onto Facebook and write “Four! More! Years!” a big middle finger to all of my online friends who happen to have a different way of looking at things. I felt great for like ten minutes, but then I felt terrible, realizing that I’m no better than everything I hate. I tried writing something sincere afterwards, talking about moving forward, of not letting ourselves get carried away by national politics, but it was too late. I could imagine a Republican doing the exact same thing and all I would feel would be a strong bitterness for some cheesy, magnanimous sore-winning.

And it’s all going to come back someday. Democrats can’t be in charge forever. That sense of loss, of being let down, of feeling politically marginalized, it’s all waiting for me four, eight, twelve years from now. It’s important, politics, but it’s all so silly. I get so fired up over people I’ve never met, will never talk to, about a system that I’m only very marginally a part of, policies and legislation that depend very little on my opinion or point of view. And I use it all as ammunition to make people that I’m close to feel inferior, not as smart as me, why can’t you see things like I see them? So yeah, I’m glad it’s all over. And I hope the next round of elections might just be a little farther away than the ones we just had.

President of the end of the world

I’m running through a little thought experiment in my head. I always try to do thought experiments, but I always wind up getting stuck on the definition of a thought experiment. I know that Einstein could sit there in his study and just think up crazy scenarios in his brain, and they’d actually run and he’d gain serious wisdom and insight out of them. Me, I can’t really keep things in my head for too long, like images or numbers. It’s always much easier if I have some paper, a pen, something to write everything down and to look at.

But I was thinking about an experiment, let’s call it a situation, let’s say we discover that a gigantic asteroid is on a collision course with the earth, and that it’s scheduled to hit twenty years from now. There’s nothing we can do. We’re just completely outmatched. It’s going to be a guaranteed collision, guaranteed mass extinction, nothing left.

So let’s say that this information goes public. My question is, what would happen with presidential politics? Twenty years is long enough for a number of scenarios. We could have two two-term presidents, four one-term presidents. What would be their pitch to the American public? How do you get elected President of the end of the world?

I’m sure that we’d find some way to divide ourselves into teams of two. And you just know that there would be people willing to run. You might even think that there would be even more than just your usual band of egomaniacs and snake oil salesman, because an issue like the end of the world has so much divisive potential.

Just take the issue. Will the world end in twenty years? All of the scientists are saying yes. They’re the ones that alerted us in the first place. It’s crazy to think that everybody would listen to the scientists. Can you imagine if both parties of a presidential race came out on a serious subject and agreed? But no, they’re always too scared that if they speak the truth, the other one will point his or her finger and call it all nonsense.

That was a little confusing. I just think that we’re so divided today, that if something huge like World War II came around, nothing would get done, because both parties would be too scared to make a move, to disrupt the status quo. Look at the big issues of the day. We’re in severe need of some modern gun control laws. We have global warming to deal with, which is obviously a real problem. But what are both parties talking about? They’re talking about nothing. Because the first person who goes out against what’s normal, the other guy will be able to point his finger and call the other side un-American.

OK, I’m kind of veering off course into an unexpected political rant here, but that’s OK, I’m just going to go with it and hope it all ties in together at the end. You’d be surprised at how often that works, honestly. Anyway, the asteroid is coming. Finally, under serious pressure from the scientific community to at least acknowledge the fact that we’re all about to get blown up, one of the presidential contenders gets up on stage and offers a plan of how we’re going to spend our last two decades. Let’s try and see if we can’t abolish war, poverty. Let’s see if we can’t feed everybody, tend to all of the sick. Let’s make these last twenty years twenty of the best years in human history.

And the other guy would point his finger and laugh. He’d say, “Listen to this clown. We’re not going to die. We’re not going to get hit by that asteroid. We’re Americans. We’re the greatest country in the world. Nothing can stop the human spirit. Nothing can stop us. We just have to believe. We just need faith.”

And that would be it. And so the original guy would come back and say, “You know what, I was just kidding. I don’t believe we’re going to get hit either. Just elect me President. I really want to be President.”

And that would be it. President of the end of the world. I really got off track here. I had originally wanted to make a funny story about two guys campaigning a really crazy campaign to be president during the earth’s final days. But then I realized that all of those threatening stuff and political nonsense sounded a little too true to be made up. And then I started just writing amateur political commentary. And now here is this last paragraph, I’m really just writing for the sake of typing words, giving a terrible explanation as to how and why we’ve wound up at this sentence. And I think I’ve already done this exact ending to a rambling blog post like maybe two or three times already. But I’m not even going to try to find which ones I’m talking about, because there are so many, and that would take forever.

President Obama: Worst President in History

President Obama is, in my opinion, the worst President in the history of the United States. Scratch that, in the history of the world. In the history of history. The President of Egypt is a better president. The President of the East Coast Star Trek Fan Club is a better president. Obviously, that President doesn’t have as many responsibilities, but the responsibilities that he does have, he executes flawlessly. And so even though it might not be that important of a presidency, I’d argue that he’s still the better President.

One time President Obama came to my hometown on a bus tour. I was so excited to maybe get a chance to meet the President, I waited inside this twenty-four hour diner for two whole days, because I knew that he’d be stopping by. It was kind of an ordeal. When I got there two days earlier, I asked for a table for two. I sat down and when the waiter came by, I said that somebody’s coming to join me and that I’d like to wait until he arrives.

I wasn’t lying. I was waiting for Obama. As soon as he walked in, I’d direct him to my table, because surely the place is going to be packed, standing room only. So I’d have the only open seat in the whole restaurant. He’d have to sit with me, right? So the waiter asked me if I’d like something to drink while I wait, and I said sure, I’ll have a glass of water.

And then the waiter said, “Listen, if you think you’re going to sit here for two days to wait for you-know-who, you’re out of your mind. It’s not going to happen.” So I ordered a Coke. That bought me maybe another fifteen minutes. When the waiter came back, insisting that I order something or leave, I asked him if they had free refills. He walked away and I assumed he went to get me another Coke.

But a manager came by and told me, “All right buddy, let’s go. Out.” So this wasn’t working out like I thought it would. I had to think, quick. So I said, “Finally, somebody to take my order. I’ve been waiting here for like half an hour. Can I get a cheeseburger? Deluxe? Waffle fries?” And the manager kind of turned around and gave that waiter a really nasty look and started to walk away. But I called out, “Wait a second!” and he stopped. I took a giant sip out of my Coke, all the way to the end, so the straw was making a really loud obnoxious slurping noise, and I held out the glass and shook the ice and said, “Can you have that waiter bring me another Coke?”

But again, this only bought me maybe an hour. I ate really slow. Like I cut up the waffle fries, cut them into individual shoestring sized fries, and then I asked for them to be reheated. Finally I had no choice but to finish everything. All of that stalling actually built up a pretty big appetite. And then the waiter came over with the check. And I said, “Wait a second, no dessert?” And I had to order a piece of pie. But I still had over a day and a half left until the President showed up.

Now the manager came back again and told me to take a hike. I told him that I wanted another cheeseburger. He looked at me and said, “OK buddy, you want to play it like that? Fine. You keep ordering, you get to stay.” I asked him if they took credit cards. He said cash only.

So finally the big moment came. The secret service guys entered first, did a huge sweep. I thought they were going to ask me a bunch of questions, but they kind of just looked here and there and then positioned themselves around the periphery of the restaurant. Next came the reporters, photographers, all lining up alongside the entrance. When their cameras started flashing, I knew this was it, the President.

And he took one step in and I knew something was wrong, because I saw his hand first, and it was white, like a white guy’s hand. So I immediately knew it wasn’t the President. But there was still a huge commotion, tons of people swarming, trying to get a closer look, and I couldn’t see the guy’s face.

The manager came back over and told me he needed my table. I explained to him the extra seat but this time he wouldn’t even listen, he just grabbed by the back of the neck and picked me up. He wasn’t taller than me, but he was a big guy, and he’d obviously done this before. So now I’m standing in the crowd with everyone else and the guy sits down and it’s definitely not the President. It’s the Vice-President. It’s Joe Biden. And he’s sitting with some secret service agent.

And I look around at the flyers on the wall and the banners draped across the ceiling and it says everywhere, “Welcome Mr. Vice-President!” How could I have missed that? I couldn’t have. Obama had to have known I was waiting there for him, to give him a piece of my mind, and so he must have made Biden go, and he must have made the owners change all of the signs and banners while I wasn’t looking.

Biden ordered an egg-salad sandwich and the secret service guy ordered a bacon cheeseburger. The secret service agent must have been paying more attention to the crowd than to the VP, because when he went to use the salt shaker, the cap fell off and his burger got covered in a whole pile of salt. Biden screamed out, “Ha! Classic Biden!” Everyone kind of laughed, and even the agent chuckled a little bit.

But then things got weird. When the agent called over the waiter to ask for a new burger, Biden got pissed, like furious, bright red faced. He stood up and started screaming at the agent, accusing him of not taking him seriously, about how he’s the Vice-President of the United States. He demanded that the agent eat that burger as is, with the salt and everything. Everybody in the diner got really quiet and finally the agent picked up his burger and took a big bite. You could tell just by the expression on this guy’s face that it must have been awful, just way too much salt.

And then Biden yelled out, “Ha! That’s the best part of the joke! It’s not just that the salt goes on the burger, but that he keeps eating it, like an idiot! Ha!” Then he pointed at the agent and screamed, “Laugh!” And the agent started a really forced laugh, and Biden continued, “Don’t stop eating! Laugh and eat at the same time! Now!” and the agent tried to do it as best as he could, but he must have gotten some food or salt down his windpipe and he started coughing. He reached for his glass of water but Biden grabbed it first and started chugging the whole thing. But Biden started laughing before he finished the whole glass and so he started choking a little himself. And the agent was still laughing like he was told to. So Biden stood up, furious, pointed at the agent and said, “Don’t you laugh at me! I’m the Vice-President of the United States of America! Who the hell do you think you are? You’re nobody!”

And I was just so tired at this point. I’d eaten like twelve burgers and hadn’t slept at all in two days. Just to see Obama. That coward. What a failure. A complete, abject failure. If there were a society of Worst Presidents in the History of All Presidencies, Obama would be President of that group. And all of the other worst Presidents would impeach him, they’d say, “Man, Obama is the worst President that this organization has ever had. Ever.”