Life on the campaign trail

 

Days on the campaign trail are hard, my friends—long days spent meeting some of the best people in America.

We were driving through southwest Kansas when a little boy pointed at me and asked, “Mommy, is that man going to be our new world leader?”She smiled—a beautiful smile of patience and acceptance for her child who had asked the question everyone else already knew.  “Yes,” she said, “and we are so blessed to have seen his bus drive right by us.”

Those Kansas folks sure make good parents. No gang signs, no rap music, no tacky gold teeth—just love and acceptance for a beautiful, if stupid, child.

Kansas is a lonely place, though. Flat!  Flat for miles and miles of farmed dirt that, I’m told, grows wheat. You know—what they turn into flour. These people feed the world. That’s an important part of our trade power, like oil. Something we could hold over other countries’ heads and demand cool stuff like Greenland… or they can starve.  I like wheat.

But southwest Kansas doesn’t have much oil, if any. So we’ll follow the great trail blazed by heroic men. We will follow the pipeline! I’m thinking North Dakota—No, wait. I’ve just been informed North Dakota won’t thaw out until May or June. So it’s back to Oklahoma!

I want to thank all the people we’ve met who are making donations to our campaign. Your small gifts of $5, $10, or sometimes $4,687,342—plus an invitation to tour the pipeline—are what keeps this bus on the road.

You may have noticed a young lady who chased our bus down on foot. Do you know how hard it is to run in six-inch stilettos? I… well, I imagine it’s pretty hard. Anyway, she caught us just long enough to offer a campaign donation before passing out from exhaustion. Poor girl.

But don’t worry—your donations are being used by a true fiscal conservative who believes Congress should be treated like spoiled children grabbing every toy in Costco.Sometimes you just have to tell them:

“Put it back. We’re not paying for that.”