Why I Can’t Run for President

The bar for the presidency is so low you could stub your toe on it.

Still, I imagine a world where it once again matters whether you’re actually qualified. Where you have to, I don’t know, be able to read reports without photos and simple charts to gain access to the nuclear football. A time where a scandal means you have to suspend your campaign instead of ringing in victory from the lobby of a hotel.

Sadly, my time will not come. And not just because I refuse to hold a stranger’s baby or shake hands with a ranking member of the GOP in an effort to encourage bipartisanship. I, too, could be taken out of consideration due to any of the following. Plus, I shan’t be asked to hold strangers’ babies while wearing a flag pin in the first place.

In no particular order, here are the incidents I most likely to reduce my presidential bid to a pile of faded Vote Vukelich flyers and spilled wine.

1. The Time My Roommates and I Staged a Vibrator Photo Shoot

The year was 2004. The vodka was flowing. My roommates and I posed with an  *unused* vibrator and got the photos developed at the neighborhood Long’s Drugs. When we picked them up, it was clear someone had opened and haphazardly re-closed the envelope. A former photo employee could have copies in his desk. Can a run for president withstand a picture of me answering a blue sex toy like a landline phone? Bible belt wouldn’t love it.

2. The Beer I Stole in Paris

I’ve never made a habit of giving myself a five-finger discount, but there was the time I was drunk in Montmartre and the waitress never came back with a bill for my Heineken. I stumbled out without leaving any Euros on the table. For all I know, there is still a “Don’t Serve” poster with a grainy photo of me in my navy pea coat on the wall of that place. “Senator Vukelich, is it true that you shirk foreign debts?”

3. The Many, Many Expletive-Ridden Messages

I fucking swear a lot and I sometimes wish a fucker would choke on a Big Mac and die. I’ve sent thousands of texts, private DMs, and Skype messages with all manner of creative profanities. Guessing they wouldn’t look great on a chryon?

4. The Childhood Tapes

My best friend Joanna and I made a lot of audio tapes when we were kids. We created fake interviews between Oprah and Arsenio and laughed uncontrollably into mics for 7 minutes at a time. But we also made up original jingles. If the public at large were ever made aware of my “Fart All the Way to K-Mart” score or the supermarket commercial where I promised people free potatoes to celebrate Gay Pride (I mean, what?) I would be institutionalized.

5. The Bush Tank I Wore in College

I used to wear a tank top in college that said “The Only Bush I Trust is My Own.” I stand behind it and the rehabilitation of GW is a scourge on this country… but I’m guessing I’d lose 40% of the country if a witness of my crude fashion came forward. Because being a war criminal is excusable as long as you become entrapped in a plastic poncho like a charming goofball, but talking about your vag is a high crime.

6. The Venice Situation

I was in Venice in 2003 and I remember about 57% of it. After a day of missed ferries, hauling luggage in the rain, and realizing we had booked an outdoor camper as accommodations — we let the wine flow. Then we lit some Sambuca shots on fire. The next morning I woke up with mud on my feet and my friend’s tooth brush was missing.

We had barfed all night next to a tree, maybe? Our other friend’s face had scratches down the side that I know I didn’t inflict — but I couldn’t prove it if called to testify. We rode the ferry back to the mainland single file, up against the railing, in case we got sick over the side. There are simply too many people who could come forward with a first-hand account.

7. Spring Break 2002

I mean, things happen at a foam party.

8. All the Inhaling

Sure, it’s legal now. But what about the time in 2001 when I smoked cheap weed out of a Coke can and hid in my closet? Are we ready to accept a president who ordered two pizzas and then thought the police where at the door? I also flew back from Amsterdam to Heathrow in quite a state and the CCTV footage would be something else. I mean, we took Howard Dean down for yelling too loud into a microphone once.

All of that said… guys, I’m ready to run. I know basic math and I won’t give Putin our secrets. WHO’S WITH ME?!?!

 

Photo by John Bakator on Unsplash

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s