Creativity Time

Betcha didn't know I have a degree in Creative Writing.

An interesting scenario now:
It's Wednesday, the day before Obama is set to give his speech in Denver. Senator McCan't, holed up in a luxury suite in a St. Paul hotel, is going through the vetting process of selecting his running mate, and finally makes his decision. It's going to be Joe Lieberman (we all know that this is true, right?).

As his aides throw high-fives in triumph, he calls the leadership of the Republican National Committee for a meeting to announce his pick. In walk the top RNC guys, including Chairman Mike Duncan, along with a few heavyweight Republican money-men like Sheldon Adelson. And Meg Whitman, whom he'd considered for the shotgun seat. Pastor John Hagee brings up the rear. What the hell is he doing here now, McCan't thinks. No matter: he is giddy and can't wait to show them what a maverick he is, and how his pick is going to blow the lid off the Democrats' game plan. "Let's kick their asses!" he says.

After an uncomfortable pause, Duncan is the first to speak. "Senator, please. Let's not make this harder than it already is."

McCan't's face suddenly turns ashen. "What are you talking about?" he asks. They know?

"It's over, John," says Adelson. "Obama's already won."

"Bullshit!" growls an aide to the Senator, emphasizing the second syllable.

But McCan't, he of the barely contained rage, can't muster the same level of indignation for some reason. "What -- what do you mean he's already won? I've got my pick and we've spent millions -- your millions -- trying to -- been on TV -- fuck me."

"Senator," says Duncan, "we've selected your pick already. Decided on her just yesterday."

"Her?" McCan't is already thinking it's Kay Bailey Hutchison, that Texan bitch. "But they hate her."

"They'll absolutely love Governor Palin, Senator," says Hagee.

"Who the fuck is Governor Palin? And who are 'they?' And why the fuck are you here, you fat piece of shit?"

Adelson walks over to the Senator, puts his tanned, ringed hand on his shoulder. "John," he says quietly, "you didn't really think you were our man, didja? After what Karl did to you?"

McCan't just blinks and looks at the guy he thought was his friend.

"It's a new Party now, Senator," says Duncan. "After '06 we just knew we had to embrace a new identity. We did great in 2000 and '04 while Karl ran the ship, but once Rumsfeld and Feith and the rest of our people in the administration started jumping ship -- one of these days I'm gonna kick that Ashcroft right in the fucking teeth -- we realized that we needed to save the Party from itself."

"'Save the Party?'" McCan't's aide looks like a helium-filled latex balloon the day after it was blown up, dragging dust bunnies along the floor. "That was the Senator's job!"

Meg Whitman just can't stop herself. "A 72-year-old war relic -- forgive me, John -- with no connection to the base? It's the base, John."

McCan't stands next to the window of the now-cramped hotel suite serving as his campaign HQ. He suddenly feels unbearably fatigued. "The base was mine! I -- I was -- I was nearly broke. I built this campaign back, one country town at a time. Once I took New Hampshire, the other guys didn't stand a chance against me. Rudy? That guy couldn't have led a sing-along. Mitt was pretty good, but we all knew no one was gonna elect a Mormon, right? And Huckabee? A one-trick pony. All that God shit and nothing else."

"That's right, John," says Duncan. "Except that's the base."

"What?"

"'All that God shit and nothing else,'" beams Hagee. "We own the Party now."

"Governor Palin," says Duncan, "is a small-town mayor who's been running Alaska for almost two years now." She's smart, pretty, tough, and unapologetically Christian. She's gonna lead us back to the White House after the country is done with...." He lets it trail off, but then makes the sound of a chimp.

"Don't worry, John," says Whitman. "We're going to make you into such a hero next week. Hopefully that fucking hurricane won't get in our way, and we'll make sure Bush stays home. You're gonna look like St. John McCain when we're through with you. But -"

"But what?" McCan't doesn't want to hear what comes next, but he's feeling like he's about to find out the precise day he's going to die, and his curiosity gets the better of him.

"The big speech of the week will belong to Governor Palin," says Duncan. Hagee coughs loudly to cover up his flatulence. It doesn't work. Whitman doesn't pretend to be oblivious and quickly darts deeper into the suite.

"What, is she some expert on foreign policy that we never knew existed?" asks the aide.

"She doesn't know shit," says Adelson, "but she'll make a great president in four years."

"That she will, amen to that," shouts Hagee.

"We've already written your speech, Senator," says Duncan. "It's a thing of beauty. It truly is."

McCan't can't help but smile that yellow-toothed smile beneath eyes that betray decades of untold pain. Eight years, I waited. Cancer. Working with Feingold. Being a different kind of Republican. I have...

"I'm gonna say goodbye, is that it?"

"You're still our candidate, John," says Duncan. "But in a manner of speaking, yes, you won't be advancing anything new in your speech. The Party's message is so stale, John. So stale! The new Party is doing away with all that. It's all about the culture we live in. The declining moral values of our once-great nation. Only in America -- today -- are we capable of a hip-hop president. We've hit bottom. And Sarah -- Governor Palin -- lives the ideals the Party subscribes to. Christian. Five kids -- one's got Down's, another is 17 and pregnant, and their oldest is shipping out to Iraq next year, on September 11. Husband's in the union, they fish, they hunt, she's a beauty queen. The narrative is just so perfect! We'll finally have a Christian party that leads us to becoming the Christian nation we were destined to be."

The Senator yawns. "Fuck. I'm gonna go up there and play along, is that it? Then I lose, Obama becomes president, and I resign from the Senate?"

Duncan nods, sheepishly. "Pretty much."

"I need a nap, guys." McCan't shuffles slowly toward the bathroom. The crowd in the room isn't sure what he'll say next, or if they'll have a fight on their hands. Hagee clasps his fat hands behind his massive bulk and starts to rock back and forth on his feet. Adelson starts to think about flying back to Vegas. Whitman, the billionaire former CEO of eBay, is crying quietly.

McCan't turns and lifts his right arm in that pathetic way that reminds everyone of his war injuries. He chuckles. "Don't worry about me. I'm on board. But Cindy's gonna be hell on wheels."

"Knew you had it in you, John," said Adelson. "You're a fucking hero."

"Yeah," sighs McCan't. "Get outta here already."