Thanks Mike. Just got back from some rigorous campaigning on the courts of Brookline, and I think I picked up a few more votes - at least three "for sures" and one "if no one else runs." Two massive blisters and an aching back is an itsy price to pay for more constituents. Just think: If I collect that kind of backing every two hours for the next 26 years, I should be staggeringly popular by the time my name reaches a ballot. Or at least vastly improved at basketball.
The real victory for Team Wirsing, however, occured on my way home when I passed a youth baseball team filing into 7-11 for post-game slurpees. Their captain, a swarthy fast-baller heading into fifth grade, gave me his teammates' unqualified support. He reached out a lanky hand and high-fived me; I reckon he'll grow into my electoral base quite perfectly. So, in case you're counting, that's another 15 voters who will easily achieve legal voting age by 2032 (If I could lobby fetuses, coo sweet presidential nothings to them in utero, believe me I would. We all have a voice in this world, I say, no matter what anyone says about the imprudence of youth).
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We aren't the tide of the future. We're the moon.
1 comment:
Karl I think you're being brilliant here. We ought to shore up the fetus vote. In eighteen years they'll be your constituency, right? And everybody knows you don't sell cigarettes and crack to adults. You sell that shit to unborn babies. Because unborn babies are impressionable. And they have longer to live, so they'll be loyal to you for years to come.
A bun in the oven? I call it a VOTE in the oven. Tasty. And it's toasted!
So what do fetuses want? How does one win their unformed hearts and minds? Well, luckily for you, sir, fetuses are easily mollified. All they want is for you to rub their mothers' bellies. And rub them you shall. Yes, the naked, bulbous bellies of pregnant women nationwide are your ticket to presidential victory in 2032, Karl. So I think it's time to adopt a new slogan. Say it with me: "If you see a strange lady on the subway and she looks fat in the stomach area, rub her belly softly, whispering that Karl Wirsing is the only candidate who represents your interests in 2032." Okay, it's a long slogan. But at least we get to stroke big people's bellies.
Although if we really want to snag the unborn American voters for the 2032 election, we should probably find the babies in foreign countries. Mike, is there enough money in the coffers to send me on a belly-rubbing junket to Thailand?
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