Best Experienced With: Stone Temple Pilots; Tripping on a Hole in a Paper Heart
(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music to this evening’s treatise in a new browser window)
As more and more incompetent and ridiculous candidates won their primaries from the Right Coast to the Left Coast over the past eight weeks, I have felt like the kid at the community pool whose mother made him wait three or four hours after lunch to join the rest of morons playing in the pool with their Donald Duck water wings and super soakers. (Eat your heart out, Faulkner.)
Christine O’Donnell and Delaware was the last straw. Watching Ms. O’Donnell enter the bloody fray is analogous to my mom holding me back while another mom tosses her blind and deaf daughter into the deep section of the pool tethered to a rope chain and eighteen cinder blocks. “After lunch waiting rule” be damned. It is time to jump into all ends of the pool simultaneously with both feet.
White trash comes in all shapes, sizes, and forms and, much like little Max wanted to be the King of the Wild Things, this is my formal announcement that I am informally announcing my candidacy for the Emperorship of the white trash state of Florida. Rick Scott may have the billions he stole from each and every one of us while he was raping and pillaging the Medicare system as founder and CEO of Columbia HCA< but I have something else. Something that money cannot buy and something that will surely allow me to beat Rick Scott like a rented mule in the race for the Emperorship of Florida.
I am Irish. We Irish are not only God’s chosen people; we have a bat-phone to God. Should I fall behind in the polls, I will simply pick up the bat-phone, call upstairs and BOOM…God makes Mr. Scott a leper. Regardless of how well funded a campaign is, very few people will vote for a leper. Few constituents enjoy a noseless Emporer.
My commitment to Florida is as follows. I will purchase at least two, possibly three, double wides and be the first Emperor of Florida to have permanent residence in Pensacola. Three of my Pensacola evening meals each week will be pancakes and Spam and I will wear jean shorts with white tube socks/black shoes. Once the Florida Emperorship is mine, I will embody all that is Florida. With much further adieu, very little introspection, and as much ennui as I can muster I would like to announce my write in candidacy for Emperor of Florida. I shall smash Rick Scott much like otters smash mollusks on the rocks off the coast of San Francisco.
Game on, indeed.
The primary goal is not truly to be the Emperor of the finest white trash state in this great, white country. Nope. My real goal is relatively transparent. The true goal is to lose the election convincingly, yet get lucrative speaking engagements, a la Sarah Palin.
Have carefully chosen and signed up the following folks to run and manage my campaign:
Associate King: JF
Partner in Crime: Stevie J. Clark
Speech Writer: JF
Treasurer: Michael Milliken
Voter Registration: Richard M. Dailey
Spiritual Advisor: Malik Zulu Shabazz
Rules Advisor: Pete Carroll
Court Jester: James Carville
Advice Advisor: Rasputin
VP of Marketing: Patches the Dog
A few months back, I wrote a song about my Associate King’s doggy, Patches for the 2014 Mind of Mully album I’ll Be Your Emperor Penguin. “Patches the Nuclear Physicist Brain Surgeon Puppy” is the finest song written about a nuclear physicist brain surgeon puppy. Patches has grown into a non-puppy. Patches is now a marketing genius doggy. Fortunately for our campaign, Patches agreed to run the marketing campaign for obvious reasons (see below):
The Campaign Strategy
My campaign platform and strategy for Emperorship of Florida will be one of positivity. I will focus on the thing I know best in the universe and the thing I find most entertaining. Me.
Why would I spend one minute of our valuable time together talking about Rick Scott? All I know about Rick Scott is what I read about in the newspapers ten years ago when he resigned his CEO position a few weeks before his company Columbia HCA was convicted of the most egregious Medicare fraud in the history of the United States. Does this make Mr. Scott a nasty billionaire crook who is not ethically fit to run the most humid state in these great United States? Only you can decide that.
Heck, I don’t even know what Rick Scott’s favorite beer is. How can I opine on how much Mr. Scott may cheat as a governor in Florida when I do not even know his favorite beer? My favorite beer is Pilsner beer: this I know for certain. Since we are on the topic, let’s talk a little more about me.
I have never been the President & CEO of Columbia Healthcare. I was not a co-founder (with Richard Hightower) of Columbia HCA. While not co-founder or CEO of Columbia HCA I was not accused of defrauding the US government and the US citizens of $1,700,000,000. I did not become a billionaire by cheating the US taxpayers.
I have six cats. My full back tattoo and the thirty hours of needle pricks that went into my full back piece is proof positive that I am not a sissy and can manage and lead through pain and bloodshed. This will come in handy should we ever have a border war with Georgia after we dump too many motorcycle head injury and mad cow disease patients just over their border. My mother’s name is Kathleen. With a “K”. I spent forty-eight minutes formulating my belief and policy statement: thirty-three more minutes than most 2010 candidates spend, on average.
I read three to four newspapers per day, which means I read more newspapers in a single day than most of the other campaign participants coast to coast in all the November elections read in a single year. This is also four billion times more newspapers than any Fox News person has ever read or ever even thought of reading. I have never been on Twitter and will never Tweet because the magical and mystical crap flying through this mind (in concert with dozens of winged unicorns) cannot possibly be captured in 140 characters. I eat rye toast with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. Spray bottles of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. I do not suffer fools. In fact, should reporters ask stupid questions during my forty-two day Emperor of Florida campaign, I will answer the stupid question with the following statement. “That’s just a stupid question and I choose not to answer stupid questions.” Then I will follow the statement with a question;
“Does anyone have a not stupid question I can answer that does not have to do with Mr. Scott clearly being a white collar criminal who is trying to buy your votes like he and Mr. Hightower bought up hospitals in the 1990’s….raping and pillaging these hospitals and closing Emergency Departments that the poor and uninsured depended on to not die? Does anyof you have one of those questions? Yes, you in the pink pillbox hat and cowboy boots right there in front.”
Those are the types of things my fiefdom needs to know and more information will be forthcoming over the next forty-one days. I will continue to take the high ground and only discuss me, even if Anderson Cooper invites me to an interview. If Mr. Cooper asks: “Mully, how does it feel to be running against a man who cheated the United States as egregiously as Enron and WorldCom did?” I will continue to stay on point and discuss me. After handing Mr. Cooper a normal sized black tee shirt to replace the Baby Gap black tee shirt he will most certainly be wearing, I will reply: “Let’s talk about Mully, AC because that topic is infinitely more entertaining than discussing how a common criminal was able to win the Republican primary for Emperor of Florida.”
Much adieu lately about returning this great nation of ours to its original language. I could not agree more and, when Emporer, will make certain all Florididians speak the native language. As of January 1, all persons of all colors and all nationalities in Florida will have to speak in the local native Indian tongue as specified in the chart below. Rosetta Stone has committed to release a special edition of Timucua, Choctaw, Apalachee, Creek and Calusa. The rest of you are on your own.
One of the cornerstones of my campaign is creating jobs in Florida, mostly for the old people because old people in Florida must be bored senseless. Bored and sweaty. There’s not much for the elderly population to do in Florida and 17% of the population is over 65 in Florida. Bored people have far too much time on their hands and bored people get testy easily. Bored, old people will be testy and could hinder my re-election bid four years from now when I will be living high on the hog from sucking the public teet for a while. No one needs a seventy-three year old complaining about crap four years from now. Especially me.
Most of these elderly folks have a computer and a telephone. Most cranky elderly folks in Nigeria and Ghana do not have a computer and a telephone and yet Nigeria beats Florida like a red headed step child when it comes to raising hundereds of millions of dollars through internet fraud. When I am in charge of Florida, my bored, elderly population will perpetrate more internet fraud than the entire continent of Africa. Mentally, I just added six trillion in incremental gross revenue from this job creation plan and we have not even started the job creation offense.
18,000,0000 of my loyal subjects in Florida with 17% over 65 is 3,000,000 people sending out at least 59 emails per day. Would imagine the first paragraph in the internet fraud email my elderly posse will perpetrate hourly will look something like this:
“Having consulted with my colleagues and based on the information gathered from the Pensacola Chambers Of Commerce and Industry, I have the privilege to request your assistance to transfer the sum of $47,500,000.00 (forty seven million, five hundred thousand United States dollars) into your accounts. The above sum resulted from an over-invoiced contract, executed, commissioned and paid for about five years (5) ago by a foreign contractor. This action was however intentional and since then the fund has been in a suspense account at The Central Bank Of Pensacola Apex Bank.”
In no time at all, my new and improved Floridanian economy will surpass the UAE and Saudi Arabia’s DGP. Combined. This will allow us to create more jobs, mostly in the penal system.
Life and all portions of life should be well themed. Nothing themes things more thoroughly than music. That was a solid example of euphonic alliteration. Euphonic alliteration is another cornerstone of this campaign.
Many of us vomited a small amount in our collective mouths while watching one of our Presidents and his wife doing the white person dance to Fleetwood Mac singing “don’t stop thinking about tomorrow…..yadda, yadda.” Ever since that evening, I have given considerable thought to the various election and election win songs that would accompany my campaign and convincing win. As you may expect, there are many. The top performers, in no particular order, are:
Linkin Park: “Bleed It Out”
Soul Asylum: “Somebody to Shove”
Street Sweeper Social Club: “Paper Planes” (MIA cover)
Rancid: “Ruby Soho”
The song you cued up when you began reading, Stone Temple Pilots’ Tripping on a Hole in a Paper Heart is what you will hear as I approach the microphone at each campaign event over the next six weeks so you may as well learn the song from start to finish so you don’t look silly mouthing fake words during the fast parts in the mosh pit. At the inauguration ball in Pensacola there will be no white guy dancing to Fleetwood Mac. If I am dating the next Ms. Right, we will salsa down a circular staircase backwards to the Stone Roses Love Spreads. Should I choose to remain single, I’ll cavort merrily down the staircase to Offspring’s Want You Bad. Regardless, my inauguration will be magical and the Roman candle fight at the end will be the largest and most aggressive Roman candle battle ever seen in Pensacola.
As we all saw during the Presidential election two years ago, Americans were dropping dead in the street and dying painfully from cholera and hemmoragghic fever by the minute. Although major financial institutions were being shot in the head by their VP and C-level executives daily (as they ran out the back door with wheelbarrows full of Kruggerands), healthcare was one of the top issues in the Presidential election. Clearly, the death and disease rate continues to rise precipitously because repealing the healthcare legislation remains front and center in any political discussion, even though nothing has actually begun. We must end this morbidity and mortality before there is no one left to vote for me.
Florida is forty-third out of fifty states in terms of worst healthcare provided. If I am in office for a minimum of twelve (12) years, I promise all the Floridites that we will be at least forty-second and quite possibly forty-first by 2025. We will provide free healthcare for everyone except the following:
- Really fat people, because being morbidly obese is a choice
- Those with Creutzfeld-Jacob disease because that’s a tough one to get rid of. Florida will become a net exporter of patients with Creutzfeld-Jacob disease. We will export them to Georgia.
- All motorcycle riders will be insured in Georgia and all motorcycle-ly injured folks will be bused to the Georgia border on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in odd months and on Tuesday and Thursday in even months.
- Smokers, because lung cancer, emphysema, rotten teeth, and heart disease from smoking is also a choice.
- Marathon runners. Mostly because I am envious that I am unable to run a marathon and if I am unable to run a marathon, then you are not eligible for my free Florida healthcare in 2025.
- People who choose to do stupid things like put their tongues on a frozen fire hydrant or drive drunk and get in an accident will not be covered. These injured folks will be bussed up the Georgia border.
There is a theme of choice in my free healthcare plan; there is also a theme of subjectivity. My mother Kathy (with a “K”) will perform all triage and make the subjective choices because she retired after a long career as a critical care nurse and VP of Nursing. You will call Kathy up in The Land of Cleve and mom will decide whether you get treated or bussed to the Georgia border. Periodically, mom may tell you to “man up and rub a little dirt in it.” If that is her triage call, man up, rub a little dirt in it and get back on the field. Mom knows her some triage and is a solid judger of stupidity.
Immediate Laws to Enact
As with most things in my life, I spent six minutes thinking of immediate 2011 legislation the other evening in stream of consciousness brainstorming. Came up with the following items which I shall shove down the legislature’s collective throats in the first seventy-two hours of my Emperorship of Florida:
- You must not bring a phone or talk on a phone while walking your dog. That is your quality time alone with your doggy and your pet deserves your undivided attention during that period. They may find a fascinating dead thing and want you to examine it with them. How are you going to do that when you are yapping on the phone? No more cell phones on dog walks.
- You don’t talk about Fight Club
- Everyone taking showers at health clubs where they have group shower areas must cover themselves at all times while walking around the shower area with a Snuggie or something with at least as much cloth material. No running around nekked or drying your hair at the sinks nekked. That’s gross
- Cuba is annexed by, and becomes a suburb of, Miami
- All members of any Fox News channels are heading directly to the guillotine, even if they do not live in Florida.
- All Floridites must read all religious books (Book of Mormon, Qur’an, Bible, Torah, Bhagwad Geeta, yadda yadda ) before opining on the supriority of one religion. This includes the Gideon Bible in the event they have a girl named Lil and get shot by a man named Dan in a saloon, running back to and collapsing in their hotel room.
- If you have a swimming pool on your property, you must have a manatee in that swimming pool.
- No one talks about Fight Club
- No more unicorns. Especially the flying unicorns
There is a very good chance that by week two of my campaign the opposition will begin a smear campaign, using things I did last month against me. The day this smear campaign begins, I will begin dating Chelsea Lately and everyone will immediately forget about my indiscretions. Dating Chelsea should get me through the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November unscathed in the press. Moreover, she and I look like soul mates. On paper, anyway.
Let the wild rumpus begin
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