Watching the presidential debates, my better half suggested that maybe I should run for President. Presumptuous? I think not. Let's check the facts. Charm and wit? Check! Devastating good looks? Check! Intelligent opinions on everything? Check! What else is there? Ah, yes, a running mate. An obvious choice would be my colleague, Mr. 60%, but I figured I'd be more electable with someone more famous, someone recognizable across the world, not just in the US. I hit upon Lance Armstrong. It seemed like a great idea, a Platogrande/Armstrong ticket, but then I realized that I'm not quite old enough and, more importantly, Lance would probably have me assassinated to gain the Presidency for himself. If a bloody weapon was seen being tossed into a dumpster from Lance's presidential motorcade, the new White House Chief of Staff Johan Bruyneel (is he even a US citizen?) would somehow explain it away. No, my friends, running for President would be too risky so I'll stick to blogging for now.
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