Thank you, Barack!

Of all the shattered ceilings and racial barriers and political realignments the primary season has highlighted, one future outcome has me chirping more than any other: I no longer need to wait until my early 50s to run for president.

Barack is only 46 as the Democratic nominee, so it seems silly--if not downright irresponsible--for me to wait until 2032 when I could kick things off in 2048. Or heck, if he wins, 46 will sound long in the tooth, accomplished, even ordinary. That would free me to run at 42 and represent a new generation of politcal thinkers suddenly fatigued with all the ancient candidates in their late 40s and (gasp) 50s. I used to think 52 was pushing it on the experience front, but if I wait that long in this climate I'll be a political dinosaur.

Hence my new plan: run for president in 2024, which complicates our name. But after many hard minutes of thinking, I decided not to change the campaign name just yet; frankly, you could sooner kick over Everest than budge this movement. So we are the same in name, though changed in urgency and purpose.

When I make big decisions like these, I like to dress up a little, as you can see.

New fists in the ring

Things have looked rather bleak on the campaign front, I'm afraid, for quite some time. But then I glanced over the last post this morning and found an extra comment tacked on from Holly Togel. That name sounded awfully familiar, and then her threat that she "plays dirty" sent me digging into the It Could Be Wirsing archives. And there it was: Miss Togel, too, is running for president in 2032. She's the one who pledged to paint the White House blue? Yeah, that's her, the artisitic type.

Can this really be you, Holly, or just someone pulling my leg? Has someone stolen your identity and challenged me in your stead? If it IS you, then I welcome the competition! What we've needed in these languishing times is a little spirited ribbing. So I ask you, Holly, or mock-Holly, or whoever it is impersonating you, what say you to a little debate?

A Convenient Truth

Now that Al Gore has won an Oscar for An Inconvenient Truth, it's time to assess how Hollywood impacts the Presidential process. Clearly, Oscar is the new Peace Prize. And while we at It Could Be Wirsing have the luxury of time before the election, it's not smart to hold back too long on this crucial campaign step. After all, it took Martin Scorsese more than 25 years to win his--and as much as I love Karl, he's no Scorsese.

The Gore model is a good one. A documentary is the ideal format. Serious subject matter says "I care," and the long-form type lends gravitas. This does not mean, however, that the potential candidate should necessarily choose Issue Du Jour. After all, Mr. Gore spent years being ignored in Congress, when he'd go on and on about environmental stuff while everyone else headed out for drinks, long before Leonardo DiCaprio ever considered driving a hybrid. And now we care because Al cares (and because "Kyoto" is a fun word to say).

Accordingly, I propose a theme that is already near to Karl's heart, one which will probably become relevant somehow in the next twenty-five years: prairie dogs. Sure, the hum of this issue is still pretty low; no one has sent Anderson Cooper out to the midwest yet to do an in-depth story with his characteristic "empathetic face" on.

But if we begin to get the word out now, the Academy will be ready for a revelatory film by 2030. And it will be a great night. Dakota Fanning and Karl doing scripted banter about his coy non-answers about exploratory committees. Ryan Seacrest (after his fourth facelift) asking inappropriate questions on the red carpet. And--ultimately--a swell of Hollywood goodwill and contribution dollars before the hangovers set in the next morning.

The gaudy, glitter-strewn stage has been set. I think we're up to this challenge.

Happy Holidays

From South Dakota, where a spectacular snowfall yesterday has left the prairie perfect for a frosty holiday season. Damn if it's not cold, but damn if it's not also incredibly wild and stunning and worth the miserable trip it takes to get all the way out here. Yesterday I saw two bald eagles, at least 100 wild turkeys, and dozens of deer - all on a short walk.

Nine people out of ten may call South Dakota a fly-over state. But I promise you it's not a place to overlook, and I don't plan to on the campaign, either.

Holiday well, team.

We won

Bring on the White House ...

And in case you're wondering what victory looks like, it goes a little something like this:

Big Game Tonight

This evening, at 6:30 p.m. on a field somewhere in Somerville, "Team Hot" will play in the semi-final game of a co-ed rec soccer league: 7 v. 7, pure heat, pure action, pure magic. But the question on my mind is not whether we'll win. I'm more concerned whether we should read tonight's result as a judgment on the worthiness of this whole campaign - several team members work double-duty on It Could be Wirsing, after all. The political gods have been gracious this fall. Yet how much goodwill is there left for us?

I lost some sleep last night. Not because I was worrying about the game, but because my pillows really suck. They couldn't cushion a toilet seat. During that free time, however, between nursing my sore-ass neck and reading Cosmo, I thought about some things. I wish I could remember what they were.

Vote Wirsing: Where big teeth win

The magic starts tomorrow

We're taking the campaign bus down to South Carolina this weekend for a Gamecocks football game at my beloved Williams-Brice Stadium. At no other place, I'd wager, will you find so many unbelievably - nay, even rabidly - loyal fans ... for whom I'd give almost anything to have on our side. Hell, South Carolina can't put a winning tradition together for all the hall-of-fame coaches on the market (and this hurts me; it hurts terribly), and that doesn't seem to dampen anyone's spirits for more than a gloomy offseason. Now if It Could Be Wirsing even gets a little positive momentum, we ought to seem awfully appealing by comparison!

So what will it take to get tens of thousands of supporters to file out and scream for us once a week for the next 26 years? Mike, this is your job, figure it out.

In the meantime, Go Cocks!

Do not fear the silence ...

... it is but the deep, chest-gorging inhale of a gathering storm.

But seriously, we have a campaign fundraiser scheduled in Boston for the evening of Saturday, November 4th, beginning at 9:00 p.m. at The Columbia House. We have the privilege of featuring, as our keynote speaker, Mr. Michael Moats, our esteemed campaign manager and accomplished political thinker of this, our own, generation. His birthday is the very same night; we shall celebrate him as well as our organization, top to bottom the finest in the 2032 race. Our future is in his hands. The least we can do, and do enthusiastically, is put ours together and hear what he has to say.

Dress is casual. For tickets and directions, please contact our headquarters at wirsingforpresident2032@gmail.com. Seats are available on a limited basis.

Cocktail hour(s) will run from 9:00-11:00. At 11:15, there will be a brief introductory announcement, followed at 11:30 sharp by Mr. Moats' address.

See you there,

It could be me

Two roads diverged in the hood

First of all, a warm, wide-shanking welcome to Aaron, my oldest brother, for chiming in - we've been waiting too long, but it feels oh so good to have him along for the ride.

Second order of business: we are finalizing a t-shirt design. I have my own in mind (which, to be honest, will be difficult, if not downright impossible, to overturn), but I'm welcoming any suggestions, especially the preposterous ones that are likely the only responses I'll get. My idea so far is to have a gray shirt with "it could be wirsing" in baby blue across the front, with 2032 right below it, printed over a wavy flag. That always looks so nice. On the back, in red lettering across the top, "we aren't the tide of the future. we're the moon." Then, below that, an image of the moon. Tony found a good one a while back.

We can also do several styles to accommodate different tastes. Any other ideas?

Brother in arms

Greetings all -

As Karl's brother, I'd like to pledge my enthusiastic support for his nascent campaign. What do I bring to the table? Well, among other things, the ability to consistently miss a soccer goal from close range, deadly accuracy with malted milk balls, and an unusual fondness for mermaids...

Aaron

Congratulations ...

... to Mike Moats for his work on the Deval Patrick campaign so far. This past Tuesday, Patrick won convincingly in the Democratic Primary for the Massachusett's governorship. Mike's role in this accomplishment may not easily be quantified - who's counting, anyway? - but he's now a proven winner. It Could Be Wirsing has needed some street cred for a while now. Well, folks, Mike's cooked up a fine-looking turkey of legitimacy. Mmmm, it smells awfully good.

We salute you, Mike. Our future is in your able hands.

DEBATE TONIGHT

Democrats Debate Tonight
7:00 PM on NECN. Check your local listings.

Mike

The Moon Beckons

I was sitting here at work, twiddling my restless opposables and remembering past years as a champion thumb-war wrestler, when fresh visions of sugar plums danced before me: we are now officially in this for the long haul, Team Wirsing. Which is fortunate, because as we approach the third marvelous month of our campaign, aborting it won't be legal much longer. So look at us and beam as a proud parent might - we are a fully-formed baby, legs and arms twitching to the sound of electoral success, eyes peaking at a horizon of political prowess, infant stomach growling with hunger for something more substantive than the pre-digested hand-me-downs of a mother country long since incapable of serving its citizens a decent meal.

No longer do we have to wait for a new tide of fortune. Our fate, after all, does no biding. It likes not the lolling sit-back of finger-crossers and idle dreamers. It cares even less for the raunchy vomit of empty promises of a better world to come. No, our fate accepts only the delicate fingers of thinkers who would mold this play-doh nation into a model to behold. And those hands, those soft, feeling, caressing hands, belong to us. Yes, look at them. I see you doing it. Look at those long fingers aching for the touch of change, the pinch of new hopes and prosperity. They are yours, and they are indeed fantastic. What can't you do with 10 fingers?

Now clench those lovely fists. Feel their power, their tightness, their crushing confidence. Then remember: we are the moon (you may recall all the effort I put into making the damn thing) of the future. We do the pulling, the planning, the planting, the plotting. We don't recline, my friends, until we're watching our careers played back to us on t.v. as number 1 on the future celebrated PBS series, "Greatest Administrations of All Time." By then, of course, we'll deserve a little rest.

Pipe-dreams are for smokers. Inhale a little of us instead and feel the real burning stench of possibility in your lungs.

It could be us

Our Man in Washington

Dear Team Wirsing,

After reading this blog, my friend Joe said "Awesome...great website." And Joe works in Washington DC, so I believe we have a brand new ally for storming the White House in 2032. As you can see, Joe has already infiltrated North Korea. And he doesn't even look Korean! Now that's what I call an inside man.

Blow your mighty conch, Karl. Our team is growing.

Register To Vote

TODAY is the LAST DAY to register to vote [for Deval Patrick] in the Mass Democratic Primary on SEPTEMBER 19TH. Offices are open until 8 pm for any working folks.

I would tell you all about how to get this done, but they already did it better at Blue Mass Group. Follow the link for answers to all your voter registration questions.

You know, you know, you know. Go, go, go.

Championship Cheeks

Plans for the first annual "It Could be Wirsing" Mr. Tight Buns contest are now underway, with tentative dates scheduled for the middle of September. We are still searching for ideal locations, but the response to our call for asses has already been overwhelming. So far, contestants include Al Roker, Mike Moats, Shaq, Albert Pujols, Ernest (of "Scared Stupid" and "Goes to Camp" fame), Tony Schaffer, Conan (the Barbarian, not the Destroyer), and, very tentatively pending progress in the courts, John Karr. His interest/fetish with tight buns is questionable, and I'm worried he misinterpreted our contest. In any event, quite a line-up. Tickets will be $10 for adults, $5 for kids. All proceeds will benefit the campaign.

Interested participants should contact us at wirsingforpresdient2032@gmail.com, or by posting to this site.

Squeeze away, gentlemen. It's time to flex those buns to perfection.

Staff Update and Call for Officers

As per Brian's request, I've tried to identify everyone's title. Oddly, Brian himself, as far as I know, has lacked an official role. So I've given him a lovely one below.

Me, Candidate
Mike Moats, Campaign Manager
Tony Schaffer, Director of Physical Fitness
Ashley Peterson, Director of Lessons Learned
Brian Hurley, Senior Marketing Director and Campaign Strategist
Kate Lopaze, Vice-Presidential Committee Chairman
Shannon Derby, Director of Doing It
Meredith Devney, Director of Outdoor Life
Aaron Wirsing, Director of Conservation and Environmental Affairs
Jonno Forman, Legal Consultant
Caroline Kraft, Senior Campaign Publicist
Matt Kaberline, Activities Coordinator
Katie Hunt ...
Vanessa Carlisle, Director of Media Training
Camron Terwilliger ...
Hal Stallworth, Foreign Policy Advisor
Eve Kager, Economic Advisor
Alex Charlow, Online Strategist
John Heider, Director of post-Soviet Outreach
Robert Repino ...
Allison Trzop ...
David Sloan...
Robert Doty ...

Please help fill in these holes and others. I've granted too many late-night cabinet offices and am having difficulty recalling them all. I once dubbed someone Secretary of the Morbidly Obese, and there must be more out there.

Branding Ideas

"Qarl and Shak" just didn't sound right.

*Of president of the United States, of course.

This one only works as long as we're not facing a challenger with a name like Worstershire. We can't afford to be be beaten at our own game.

The Coming Election Cycles

Okay nothing clever here, simply a reminder to all the members and readers here at our Grand Experiement that the election season nears, and for everyone to do their best to vote, either here in Massachusetts, or absentee in their home state.

For information on voter registration here in the Commonwealth, go here. If anyone needs a voter registration form, or an absentee ballot form for the state of Massachusetts, I can pick them up at the campaign office. To register for the September 19th Democratic Primary - which I urge you to do - you must have all papers in no fewer than 20 days ahead of election day, SEPTEMBER 19TH. That date again is SEPTEMBER 19TH. 33 days from today, SEPTEMBER the 19TH.

SEPTEMBER 19TH, 2006. Democratic Primary.

If anyone has questions about the Democratic candidates you can check out the Globe's Campaign Page. Don't hesitate to familiarize yourself with the Lieutenant Governor race as well.

For nationwide races, the New York Times has a helpful guide.

General elections will be held on November 7th.

Vote. It's the only way.

Mike Moats
Campaign Manager

Reality Check

I shook with excitement all day yesterday after Kate's revelation that Shaq should be our Vice President. She was really on to something. But then late last evening on my porch, I realized that the real test of Shaq's worthiness is how well he can play croquet, which I anticipate will be the official sport of diplomatic negotiations in the future. So tactical, dignified and composed, and yet still plenty aggressive and competitive, croquet is the perfect game of government, all while you can enjoy a cold beer, a sunset and some good tunes. Indeed, comfort with a mallet, deadly accuracy around little white hoops, perfect aim with the long ball: these will be the hallmarks of great leadership in the coming years.

And I have to admit, I'm pretty darn good at croquet. It's one of the Wirsing family's proudest and most hotly-contested traditions. We face-off dozens of times at weekend get-togethers, and only my dad's crippling tendency to ignore the "poison" shows a chink in our collective armor. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he says stubbornly as he knocks his ball within an easy few inches of the poison ball, setting up everyone else's downfall as well. At least he has guts. My oldest brother Aaron (admiring my form in the photo above) also holds nothing back on the course. His use of the flatulent "12th defender" has been unfavorably compared to a weapon of mass destruction. Even the ozone layer fears him.

So Shaq, with all your majesty on the basketball court, will you transition fluidly to a grassy plain for a world-changing game of croquet?