The election has reached a fevered pitch, as we try to guess which lame shirt Al Gore is next going to parade around in, puffed up like a poisoned blowfish. Unless we soon learn that George Dubyah has executed a family member by mistake, perhaps it’s time to turn our attention to the burning question of potential running mates.
Of course the editorial cartoonists and political comedians are all hoping George the Younger follows in Daddy’s footsteps and replucks Dan Quayle from whatever depths of obscurity he has sunk to — “Hey, it was good enough for Pop, and besides, think of the money we’ll save on bumper stickers.” And I think I speak for all of us when I say we are agreed that no matter who Gore picks, its bound to be a better choice than the one Clinton made.
But in the spirit of Monday Night Football’s decision to go with Dennis Miller and Heinz introducing a green ketchup, maybe the year 2000 is the perfect time to go outside the box in selecting the person who will spend the next four years a mere chicken bone away from the presidency.
America doesn’t need safe. That’s such 20th-century, “Greatest-Generation” crap. And yes, I am talking about Sens. Tom Daschle and John Danforth here. What we need is a fresh, unique take on the whole political front. And I’m here to help. The only real requirements are that the candidate be 35 years old and born American.
(Yeah, yeah, I know: Ralph Nader has already announced his ticket-buddy — Winona LaDuke — but there’s always time for even third parties to come to their senses.)
Gov. Jesse Ventura. They dress alike. They walk alike. At times they even talk alike. You could lose your mind. And the Dems could be the first party ever to crow, “Our vice presidential candidate can put your vice presidential candidate’s eyes out with his pecs.” Although maybe not the last.
Hillary Clinton. Oh, what the hell, let’s go for it: Tipper.
Samuel L. Jackson. He’s a bad mutha, and could lend a badly needed edge to Gore’s campaign. “Shut your mouth.” Right on.
George W. Bush:
Dr. Laura Schleschinger. She’s feisty. She’s popular. She’s purportedly a woman. And let’s not kid ourselves, the Log Cabin Republican Caucus isn’t much of a threat: The entire group could meet in a non-smoking double at a Key West Days Inn.
Bill Gates. Or just sell the spot to the highest bidder. And tell everybody. Time to stop pretending.
Sylvester Stallone. Needs a hit role bad. Probably willing to take second billing.
Dr. Jack Kevorkian. These two really do look alike, and it would make Nader seem like an orphaned puppy dog in comparison.
Crispin Glover. Don’t ask. It just makes me laugh.
Sunny Von Bulow. Twenty years in a coma is perfect preparation for the job.
Sharon Stone. A new son, a new image — why not a new career? Could prove to be box-office magic for Pat, and the Bipartisan Commission on Presidential Debates might not only suspend the 15 percent rule, but make all participants sit in low-slung plastic interrogation chairs.
Kenny G. Smooth mellow sounds soften Buchanan’s high cackle.
David Duke. (See Ralph Nader and Jack Kevorkian, above.)