>If you’re convinced you are not presidential timber but would love to get your hands on a gavel, you’re right. Being president of America will take twenty years off your life, not to speak of the many sleepless nights wondering when someone’s going to take a potshot at you.
But vice president–that’s the job to aim for. Yes, there are those like Rudy and Fred who turned their noses up at it. But look at all those who will never get the nod from Obama and McCain–they would come out of their skins if O or Mac wagged an approving index finger at them. For proof, just look at Mitt and Hill. Mitt called Mac all kinds of names, even landed his favorite knockout punch right on Mac’s nose–said he hadn’t run anything.
Hill made O go to the matt with her–figuratively speaking, not actually of course–for eleven months, even though she knew all along she couldn’t win. It cost her. She’s in debt $25 million, but look at the pain she inflicted on the tall, skinny guy.
But now that Mitt’s out, he wants in–in the worst way. Have you noticed how he can’t find enough superlatives to say about his old nemesis? Neither can Hill say enough good about O.
Now Mitt, Hill and the other outsiders know the best job to go after is VP, not president. Surprised? I thought you might be. You probably bought into conventional wisdom–that being America’s vice president is some kind of punishment, a four-year prison sentence, a fate to be avoided at all costs.
That kind of thinking is wrongheaded and I’ll prove it. What job can you name where you get paid six figures with promise of a wonderful retirement, your own AirForce Two airliner, get to sit around all day doodling meaningless phrases and hopeful poetry and satire on a yellow scratch pad, and own your own gavel to make noises if certain senators get on your nerves? And best of all, often you are lobbied by both sides of the isle–sumptuous diners, trips, and help with your income taxes–in case you have to break a tie vote.
Then is when you become a true VIP. Don’t ever overlook the advantages that this offers you. You can accumulate enough of some else’s sky miles and other favors to the point senators would give you the moon–whatever you want.
Here’s more of the high side. Unless you go to war, like Bush and Cheney, you can’t be blamed for anything. Vice presidents are the most useless decoration pieces in the Capitol. They just sit and sit, and sit. If you have sleep apnea and can fake you’re awake, this is the job for you. Some of these guys get real good at it. They sit there with a stone-cold, wide-eyed stare as asleep as a bear in winter hibernation. If someone approached and touched their elbow it would tip them over like a tumbler in a china cabinet.
If you get tired sitting, you can finger an unsuspecting assistant to take your place until a crucial vote comes up, some young aspiring junior senator who just adores you, worships the seat you sit on.
Everyone knows your vulnerability, but they leave you alone. Senators are just good old boys and girls and deep down in all they want is one thing. To get reelected. The rest of what goes on is just window dressing for naive
constituents in the gallery who came to see some anger and fireworks, like a floor fight or filibuster.
VP’s do not fear being sent up the river. All they do is clip bond coupons and look to the day when they can get out of this veritable fish bowl lesser men call prison.
When the president says jump they ask how high. The common garden variety VP rarely speaks in cabinet meetings. He’s too smart for that. He keeps his mouth shut to reporters and his ideas to himself,feeding the commander-in chief’s ego as much as possible.
Does the vice presidency change the man? Based on anecdotal evidence, just the opposite occurs. Most VP’s come in with an attitude. They’re all president wannabes, but they’re good at hiding feelings. But behind the scenes they’re full of mischief.
VP’s like Cheney cause wars and spend money on the military. He did it subtly, not claiming success, leaving all the good and bad press for the president. On the other hand, Gore let it be known he didn’t like his president–that he wanted to make a name for himself so he could follow Clinton after eight years.
Gore bidded his time on the podium looking stupid. But in reality his finely tuned mechanical brain was working like a clock, dreaming up global warming and his first Nobel Prize.
VP’s get magical ideas just sitting there. Some of the ideas hatched on the Senate podium are worth millions. Gore got this idea of global warming from his perch high above the Senate floor, where the air is rarified. It was so masterful and weird that people liked it. Even Clinton wished he could have thought of it first, but then, his attention was riveted elsewhere.
Here’s how Gore got the idea: Gore’s a big, heavy man who perspires a lot. He also liked to smoke a cigar while on the stand. No, really. I’ll bet you’re wondering how he got away with it. No one knew why he always kept his hand over his mouth like he was dumbfounded. Actually, he was concealing the cigar in his mouth. His ash tray was the cuff of his pants. One day it got so warm up there he fell asleep and when he abruptly awoke he was on fire. It was so warm, his subconscious told him global warming was going on when it was only pant warming.
The brain must be wired differently than most humans to hatch an idea like this that way. No one can argue that Al Gore is your garden variety man from Tennessee. But the point is this: he parlayed this idea into a Nobel prize and people around the globe almost worship this mere man for such prescience.
Albert Gore made a bundle of money off books and speeches. They should have a copyright law in the Senate–or at least an agreement like most corporations–if you hatch your eggs while on public salary working in a public building the ideas you think up and the doodles you make aren’t yours to keep.
Give back those millions you earned on the taxpayers’ largesse, Albert Gore.
Mitt, though, is the real conundrum. He wouldn’t like being VP. His head is too full and he is too enthusiastic and energetic to sit there for four years keeping everything within. It would be like prison to Mitt, and would rob him of four of the best years of his life.
Now, Hillary is a political horse of another color. She will always be Hillary–up to no good. Somehow I can see her smuggling Bill into these hallowed halls to once more desecrate U.S. terra firma. You don’t think she didn’t know he was playing around with Monica and the others? Oh, she had her escapades, too. It was all in the plan…