I’m so weary of all this Presidential election poppycock that my brain needs a holiday. And what better holiday than daydreaming about how candidates Mitt and Obama would have interacted had they met in grade school.
So, let’s close our eyes and relax–relax every muscle in your aerobic-sized or yoga-ed body. Shake out your wrist–the one on which rests the diamond-encrusted Rolex (it’s a dream, stupid!) and watch yourself descending a long circuitous and steep stairway. The light is dim and you can hardly see your way and, oops, f—k, that must be the lovely wrapped gift your husband will surprise you with tonight. Don’t bother to shake it; it’s not a blender, thank god.
Continue winding around the staircase, which now seems carpeted in a deep mauve and you think beige curtains would go well. On your way you see Virgil, but you can’t quite remember who that Greek is, so you pass him by after you wave hi. Oh what luck–George Clooney makes an offer you can’t refuse–wait a minute, this is not a 50 shades of mauve porno tape– and you and the Super Star arrive at your destination–on the right, per your handy GPS, which just now vocalized in an eery but exciting way.
Okay. Now that you’re fully relaxed and have Clooney as your man-slave, let’s run the Mitt-Obama film of first grade. It’s not a YouTube video since this is the 1960s or so and the Internet, email and digital everything are just toys in Bill Gates’ sandbox. He has yet to envisage a capitalist empire with himself at the helm–he’s way too busy throwing sand at Steve Jobs and taunting him about his apple-colored pail and shovel.
Enter from the wings: Mitt Romney. He’s a cute little guy. Dressed in his favorite Mormon Tabernacular choir outfit, he’s already got the girls chasing him. He looks around for an empty desk and sees that the only one is next to the black kid who’s got his protractor, eraser and pencil set all perfectly lined up. Mitt would rather sit with the kids he knows from the playground, but he figures this is a good opportunity to play the race card, whatever that means.
Mitt: Hi dude! Whatcha doing, yo man?
Obama: Now you’ve made me lose count. I’ll have to start all over again and no one likes do-overs. It could take me another four years, er, minutes.
Mitt: You are so right about that. Last week I took over this lemonade stand my kid brother was running. It was losing a lot of money so I couldn’t decide whether to fire my brother or buy a better brand of lemonade. So I finally borrowed on my dad’s Swiss bank account and cashed it in for a Ben & Jerry’s franchise. Now I’m making money hand over fist.
Obama: Wow. I guess you’re an entrepreneur and everything. I never knew one of them. I’ve been so busy giving out free bagels to the homeless and reading Karl Marx that I know little or nothing about business. Can you teach me?
Mitt: I could, but I won’t because then I won’t have an advantage and I’d be like the hoi polloi. I don’t want to be mediocre and mix with the 47 percent who collect handouts from the government.
Obama: I guess you’re one of those elitists. My mommy told me to steer clear of them because they think they’re carrying on the tradition of Ayn Rand and doing everything alone and without standing on the shoulders of others.
Mitt: I don’t stand on anyone’s shoulders unless it’s PE and we’re making pyramids in cheerleading class.
Obama: What’s cheerleading? In my old school we just had free breakfasts and lunches. No one did any work and we were all happy about that.
Mitt: You don’t like to work? I love to. I get up at 5 am every day and sweep the floors of our mansion and wash the Mercedes. My dad says I’m a chip off the old block and someday I’m going to be worth a few million.
Obama: Well, my mama calls me her little “Affirmative Action Baby” and she says I’m liable to end up at Harvard with free tuition and books.
Mitt: I’m going to Harvard, too. But right now I’m enjoying myself making fun of gays and people of color.
Obama: Yeah, so how come you’re not pushing me around or calling me the N word?
Mitt: Well, I don’t have to do that because I’ll get all the other kids in class to do it. I’m a leader.
Obama: Oh yeah!?
Obama: I don’t think I like where this is heading, so why don’t you just meet me outside later by the swings and we’ll have it out.
Mitt: I can do that, but first I’ll need to tell the chauffeur to go ahead home.
Obama and Mitt spend the rest of the day stealing quick glances at each other. Obama gets a 100 on his arithmetic test, and Mitt gives a report on freedom of religion and why Mormons have large families. Then the teacher dismisses the class and both boys retrieve their Beatles lunchboxes and head for the playground.
Next time we see Mitt and Obama, they’re whispering in the courtyard. “I guess we showed those kids,” says Obama. “They think we really dislike each other.”
“Yeah,” says Mitt. “And the next thing you know they’ll be making us run against each other for class president. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of all that dirty politicking. I just want to unite in peace and understanding. What about you?
Obama whisks out his birth certificate and hands it over to Mitt, then says, “On my honor and as an honest-to-goodness real American citizen, I can vote for that, too.”
Mitt: Then the aforesaid resolution is passed. We two dudes of democracy will further the evolution of these here United States and ensure that every citizen be entitled to the dream of home ownership and enough vacation days.
As Mitt and Obama walk off into the sunset, their arms hugging each other, they sing a chorus of “We Shall Overcome.”
To sleep. Perchance to dream???