I was in my office, writing
a column on the injustice of relative marginal tax rates for hedge fund
managers, when I saw Stephen Colbert on TV.
He was sneering that Times columns make good “kindling.” He was
ranting that after you throw away the paper, “it takes over a hundred
years for the lies to biodegrade.” He was observing, approvingly, that
“Dick Cheney’s fondest pipe dream is driving a bulldozer into The New
York Times while drinking crude oil out of Keith Olbermann’s skull.”
I called Colbert with a dare: if he thought it was so easy to be a
Times Op-Ed pundit, he should try it. He came right over. In a moment
of weakness, I had staged a coup d’moi. I just hope he leaves at some
point. He’s typing and drinking and threatening to “shave Paul Krugman
with a broken bottle.”
I Am an Op-Ed Columnist (And So Can You!)
Surprised to see my byline here, aren’t you? I would be too, if I
read The New York Times. But I don’t. So I’ll just have to take your
word that this was published. Frankly, I prefer emoticons to the
written word, and if you disagree 🙁
I’d like to thank Maureen Dowd for permitting/begging me to write
her column today. As I type this, she’s watching from an overstuffed
divan, petting her prize Abyssinian and sipping a Dirty Cosmotinijito.
Which reminds me: Before I get started, I have to take care of one
other bit of business:
Bad things are happening in countries you shouldn’t have to think
about. It’s all George Bush’s fault, the vice president is Satan, and
God is gay.
There. Now I’ve written Frank Rich’s column too.
So why I am writing Miss Dowd’s column today? Simple. Because I
believe the 2008 election, unlike all previous elections, is important.
And a lot of Americans feel confused about the current crop of
presidential candidates.
For instance, Hillary Clinton. I can’t remember if I’m supposed to
be scared of her so Democrats will think they should nominate her when
she’s actually easy to beat, or if I’m supposed to be scared of her
because she’s legitimately scary.
Or Rudy Giuliani. I can’t remember if I’m supposed to support him
because he’s the one who can beat Hillary if she gets nominated, or if
I’m supposed to support him because he’s legitimately scary.
And Fred Thompson. In my opinion “Law & Order” never
sufficiently explained why the Manhattan D.A. had an accent like an
Appalachian catfish wrestler.
Well, suddenly an option is looming on the horizon. And I don’t mean
Al Gore (though he’s a world-class loomer). First of all, I don’t think
Nobel Prizes should go to people I was seated next to at the Emmys.
Second, winning the Nobel Prize does not automatically qualify you to
be commander in chief. I think George Bush has proved definitively that
to be president, you don’t need to care about science, literature or
peace.
While my hat is not presently in the ring, I should also point out
that it is not on my head. So where’s that hat? (Hint: John McCain was
seen passing one at a gas station to fuel up the Straight Talk Express.)
Others point to my new bestseller, “I Am America (And So Can You!)”
noting that many candidates test the waters with a book first. Just
look at Barack Obama, John Edwards or O. J. Simpson.
Look at the moral guidance I offer. On faith: “After Jesus was
born, the Old Testament basically became a way for Bible publishers to
keep their word count up.” On gender: “The sooner we accept the basic
differences between men and women, the sooner we can stop arguing about
it and start having sex.” On race: “While skin and race are often
synonymous, skin cleansing is good, race cleansing is bad.” On the
elderly: “They look like lizards.”
Our nation is at a Fork in the Road. Some say we should go Left;
some say go Right. I say, “Doesn’t this thing have a reverse gear?”
Let’s back this country up to a time before there were forks in the
road — or even roads. Or forks, for that matter. I want to return to a
simpler America where we ate our meat off the end of a sharpened stick.
Let me regurgitate: I know why you want me to run, and I hear your
clamor. I share Americans’ nostalgia for an era when you not only could
tell a man by the cut of his jib, but the jib industry hadn’t yet fled
to Guangdong. And I don’t intend to tease you for weeks the way Newt
Gingrich did, saying that if his supporters raised $30 million, he
would run for president. I would run for 15 million. Cash.
Nevertheless, I am not ready to announce yet — even though it’s
clear that the voters are desperate for a white, male, middle-aged,
Jesus-trumpeting alternative.
What do I offer? Hope for the common man. Because I am not the
Anointed or the Inevitable. I am just an Average Joe like you — if you
have a TV show.