Stumbling My Way Off the Presidential Debate Stage and Ballot
When I was 5, I remember telling my dad I wanted to someday be president. He smiled and began peppering me with questions, clearly enjoying this father-son moment.
“Will you be a good listener? Will you work hard? Have you ever done anything bad in your life?”
My answers were, “yes, yes, no,” but, again, I was only 5. Fifty-six years later I would have to answer all three in the affirmative, because, if I adhere to what seem to be the qualifications for becoming our next commander-in-chief, I have done some very bad things. Some absolutely heinous things. And the worst part? I continue doing them.
Take last week, for example. I went to Target. No, that’s not the bad thing. Although, I did purchase some ibuprofen for my aching heel, which, when inflamed, causes me to walk with a slight limp. As we now know from social media and certain news outlets, presidents are not allowed to limp, shuffle, stumble or, heaven forbid, trip whenever they are on their feet. Doing so is a clear sign of physical decline. If our president can’t even master the art of self-balancing, how can he or she be expected to balance the budget?
I Know the Word. It’s..Give me a second
But it got worse. In the parking lot, I couldn’t remember where I parked my vehicle! I must have wandered around for at least 45 seconds before realizing I had parked it one row over from where I was searching. You read that correctly; an ENTIRE ROW! Our next president must have impeccable GPS capabilities. If the simple act of locating a vehicle is too great a burden for me, then I shouldn’t be given responsibility for deploying troops around the world. What if I forget where they are?
Speaking of forgetfulness, I was having a phone conversation a few days ago and found myself searching for a particular word to complete my thought. I said, “I felt a little self-conscious being the only single person at the party but soon I lost my…”
The word I was searching for was “inhibition.” I remembered it quickly, but not fast enough to be president, apparently. Our presidents are forbidden from mixing up words. They must always speak in perfectly fluid sentences. Each sentence must have a subject and a predicate. Verbs must be correctly conjugated. What if our next president, attempting to negotiate peace between Israel and Hamas, turned to Israeli representatives and said, “You must agree to a unilateral, uh, um…”
The silence would allow Israel to insert whatever word or phrase it felt like. While the U.S. president racked his or her brain trying to come up with “ceasefire,” Israel could say, “I believe you mean, “escalation of hostilities.”
“That’s what we’ve been planning all along, Mr. President. Thank you for your support. We will show ourselves out.”
Sorry, It’s Too Late
Finally, and this is the clincher, I was searching for my sunglasses the other day before realizing they were perched on top of my head. I’ve done that before, and, chances are, you the reader have too. We all laugh because we realize the situation’s absurdity, but then we go about our days, grateful for UV ray protection.
But what if our president ransacked the White House searching for something, before realizing it was in his or her possession? What if that “something” was the nuclear launch codes?
“Silly me. They were in my pocket the entire time. I wish I’d discovered them before North Korea fired on us!”
Hey, it could happen.
So, to recap, our president MUST be someone who, at all times, possesses a photographic memory, perfect diction and an outstanding gait. Find me that person, and he or she will have my vote.
Thankfully, the election is still about four months away.
Greg Schwem is a business humorist, motivational corporate comedian, corporate emcee, nationally syndicated humor columnist for Tribune Content Agency and creator/host of the streaming TV series, “A Comedian Crashes Your Pad.
