Dear Aunt Sophie,
I’m running for president again. OK, last time I wasn’t actually the candidate, I ran as the wife. But we got elected so I was pretty much president without the title. (Isn’t that typical – the woman does the work but the man gets the title and the pay.)
Just between us, campaigning is a real drag. Baking cookies is a piece of cake compared to this. I especially hate debates. People get into this male kind of linear thinking and then they start looking for definite answers. Well, women don’t do linear. Seeing in black and white is for men and dogs. I couldn’t believe the way one moderator kept after me even after I’d answered his question twice. So it wasn’t the kind of answer he wanted - I wasn’t exactly at my best that day. Big *@#$*%#! deal. People had better get used to it.
We non-male candidates have to do a tricky balancing act. We have to seem strong enough to deal with terrorists yet soft enough to make people think we care about them. Let me tell you, that’s tough. I don’t do soft. The one time I let them talk me into it, all people focused on was my cleavage. My cleavage, for *@#$*%#! sake! Presidents don’t have cleavage.
Anyway, there are better ways to show I’m not a man. I’ve developed a unique laugh that conveys a combination of firmness and seductiveness. It’s hard not to give in to my tendency to sound girlish, though, so I’m still working on it.
But enough about my gender. That’s all anybody ever talks about and frankly, I find it demeaning. Two X chromosomes isn’t all that qualifies me for this job. If it were, even you could handle it. No, I have real experience. I’ve actually lived in the White House. (Believe me, the china there is way nicer than what my mother had back in Park Ridge.)
See, now I’ll bet you’re thinking all I care about is female stuff like china, but it isn’t so. I care about this country and I have lots of wonderful ideas for transforming it. I don’t think we can afford them all, but you’ve got to start somewhere.
Before I can accomplish any of this, though, I have to beat my Afro-American rival. I can’t beat him too badly, either – a black man beaten by a white woman? – not good. I need the minority vote and I really should keep his good will. Do you think he’d be offended if I used this slogan in the primaries - “Vote for yo’ mamma instead of Obama”?
I can only try to imagine the horror of being pressed to answer a question – and by a man, no less. The bwute! Actually, compelling someone to think linearly is a form of mental abuse. I’m surprised it isn’t against the law.
How can anyone expect the only supermom running for leader of the free world to answer “Do you favor giving driver licenses to illegal immigrants?” with a simple yes or no? Any fool can see that all of the following answers are perfectly responsive:
1) no, not unless they’re over the age of eighteen
2) yes, but only if they can see over the steering wheel
3) maybe, since it’s probably the only way they can take jobs Americans won’t do
4) Your attempt to force me into your mode of thinking causes me discomfort. Since campaigning is my current occupation you’ve effectively made my workplace a living hell. I’ll be suuuuing yu.
So many problems could be better solved by multi-directional thinking. Suppose the government were to pay each baby $5000. just for showing up at his own birth. To the conventional mind this might seem an ill-considered use of the taxpayers’ money. But isn’t it actually a creative way to show the larval voter the benefits of a union job or a career in government? And getting back to those licenses, why should they be an either-or proposition when limited permits could be issued to allow illegals to drive only to and from the obstetrics suite? Yes, it’s definitely time for a gyno-American president.
About your laugh - there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it: Your Doberman/Lhasa Apso timbre perfectly conveys both your forceful and your cuddly sides. You must stop worrying about insubstantial things. So what if people think you’re obsessed with china? That shouldn’t bother you as long as it doesn’t occur to them which China you’re obsessed with. And so what if they speculate about your cleavage? The sighting of cleavage in the Oval Office is no longer the big deal it once was.
As for your rival, if you want to keep his good will and sew up the minority vote, you’re going to have to use a little self-deprecating humor – try something like “Vote for the Crack, not for the Black.”
Good luck and God bless.