The Draw Straws Poll
Mime-Version: 1.0 (NeXT Mail 3.3 v118.2)
From: Peter Langston <psl>
Date: Tue, 19 Oct 99 12:23:35 -0700
Subject: The Draw Straws Poll
X-Lib-of-Cong-ISSN: 1098-7649 -=[ Fun_People ]=-
Forwarded-by: "Stephen Nelson" <email@example.com>
The Draw Straws Poll
By Tony Kornheiser
Sunday, October 10, 1999; Page F01
I am trying to decide who I want for president.
I am leaning toward Warren Beatty in the hopes that at state dinners his
wife, Annette Bening, will greet the guests wearing just what she wore in
But I don't want to commit to Beatty in case Cybill Shepherd should enter
Or Jerry Springer. Or Donald Trump.
Or Eddie, the dog on "Frasier."
I just know I can't vote for Al Gore.
I think the presidency is much too important to go to someone who's never
been interviewed on "Access Hollywood."
When Gore speaks, he is so stiff and halting that I half expect to see
townspeople following him with wooden stakes and lanterns. But I can live
with that. I voted for that troll Marty Dukakis, and he was embalmed.
The reason I can't vote for Gore is because he's not a celebrity. He didn't
play in the NBA. He wasn't a POW. His father wasn't president. Heck, he
doesn't even love Hitler. Gore had his only snippet of celebrity ripped away
when Erich Segal denied Gore's claim that "Love Story" was about him.
Come on, Al, can't you at least marry Carmen Electra? Everybody else does.
Celebrities rule American politics now. Take Jesse Ventura. (Please, this
is too easy.) The governor of Minnesota, who recently issued his
long-awaited encyclical on metaphysics--saying he'd like to be reincarnated
as a size 38DD brassiere--is thinking about becoming an embarrassment to
the whole country, not just the Twin Cities. When asked about the
presidential election of 2000, Ventura said, "I could be very influential
A couple of years ago, you might have wondered "How? By body-slamming Bill
Bradley?" But now you know the answer. And you thought the first president
to wear a boa would have been Elizabeth Dole.
Aging pretty boy Warren Beatty, who is so vain he probably thinks this
column is about him, has been hinting at joining the race for weeks, and
has already staked his candidacy on how to shrink the gap between rich and
poor in this country. I'm sure Beatty has a lot of genuine wisdom on the
subject that he would share with Larry King, provided that the lighting on
the set was acceptable.
Warren would have some great hands-on program to help the poor, based on
his vast experience, like "I'd give them a shampoo, then sleep with them."
Yes, I'm aware that Beatty has "thought" about politics for many years now.
I have thought about pancakes for many years. That doesn't make me Aunt
Jemima. Until the age of 50, Warren Beatty's curriculum vitae consisted
entirely of babe-boinking. He made Wilt Chamberlain look like a Jesuit. His
idea of Social Security was a roll of Certs and a condom. (Though maybe
it's a point in Beatty's favor that he got all this sex out of his system
before he worked in the Oval Office.)
Beatty is actually the most reasonable of all the potential celebrity
candidates. Smallpox is too good for Jerry Springer. He should be fed
through a shredder. And what on Earth does Cybill Shepherd think qualifies
her to be president? Her entire career has been based on showing her
striking face and her impressive chest. If that's all you need to be
president, I'm voting for Arnold Schwarzenegger--who, by the way, would love
to run for governor of California. (Edmund Morris is already working on his
Most amazing of all is Donald Trump, who declared his presidential
availability to Larry King, of course. "The polls have been unbelievable,"
Trump said. No, Donald, your hair is unbelievable.
Everything about Trump reeks of vulgarity. No doubt his cologne is pressed
from the sweat glands of a mink that was fed only creme brulee. Trump won't
shake hands! With you? Are you kidding? But how do you run for president
without shaking hands? Just drop small gift bags of money out the limo
window? Isn't Steve Forbes already doing that?
I know a little something about celebrities because I almost am one myself.
Technically, I am a "celebrity twice removed"--which means that if I give
people two hints, they very often think they might have heard of me. In my
case, the two hints are: 1.) "I write a humor column for The Post," and 2.)
"No, not THAT humor column."
But just being an almost-celebrity doesn't mean I'd make a good president,
though I'm confident I could handle the part where you sit around the Oval
Office like Nixon hollering "Jew! Jew! Jew!" And I think I could handle the
Clinton part with the interns.
But nobody votes for politicians anymore--though they might vote for George
W. Bush. He was born into politics like Gore was. The difference is, Bush
didn't want to be a politician. He wanted to be a frat boy all his life. He
owned a baseball team, and then one morning Bush woke up and he was governor
of Texas--according to the folklore, it was the first morning he can clearly
Gore needs a past. Or a talk show. Or cleavage.
Did you see where Gore moved his campaign to Nashville and put on a pair of
cowboy boots, for heaven's sake. (What does he do, leave them outside his
door every night to be shined, like he did as a child in the Shoreham
Hotel?) Now that he's got the boots, he should cut a country album. Then
people will listen to him just because he's a celebrity, like they listen
to that fat-sucking Kenny Rogers.
Katie Couric will say, "Al, how about singing a song, and then tell us why
you wanna be president. Oh, nice hat."
Someday they won't even have elections. They'll just have an award show.
They'll open up an envelope with the winner of "Best Performance as a
Presidential Candidate," and instead of getting an ugly golden statue, he'll
get the black suitcase with the nuclear codes.
It worked for Reagan.
(c) Copyright 1999 The Washington Post Company
© 1999 Peter Langston