The Long View

National Review, Oct 13, 2003 by Rob Long

The Candidates' Diaries

Special All Mixed Up Edition(tm)

From the diary of Bob Graham, candidate for the presidency of the United States:

. . . a nice basket of those big muffins, with the sugary tops, you know the ones? They sort of crunch a little when you bite into them? And a tin of just the most fantabulous chocolate chip cookies. And a note that said, "Welcome, General Clark, to the race! Best of luck! I'm rooting for you! Love, Bob Graham," which a lot of people might think is kind of weird. I mean, we're supposed to be running against each other, and here I am wishing him the best, but I believe it's nice to be nice, you know? There's no reason to turn this thing into a grudge match, right? I mean, one of us is going to win. No question about it. And then that person is going to look at the field and think to himself, hey, which one of these guys is going to help me win this damn thing? The guy from Massachusetts? Which has, what, one electoral vote? Which you're going to get anyway? And maybe the guy is thinking this over and munching on a cookie from yours truly, or wrapped up in one of those fluffy robes I sent everyone last week, or surfing the 'net with a mousepad with my face superimposed over the state of Florida, and it'll come to him, and he'll reach for a notepad (my face, natch) and use one of my "Bob Graham's PRIMARY Wish? Good Luck to You!!!" ballpoints to write down his veep choice, and then my phone will ring and . . .

From the diary of Gray Davis, governor of California:

. . . which, unfortunately, outlawed the execution of traitors after General Vallejo was deposed and the state became American territory, but it's nice to think about what I'd do to certain people if I could somehow at least bring back whipping, which has a certain ring to it that I personally find . . .

From the diary of Hillary Clinton, senator from New York:

. . . needs a girlfriend or something, because he's going nuts up there in Chappaqua and he just won't shut up about whether I'm running or not, because he thinks there's some sort of rush here, like if I don't run now, I can't run in 2008, or if I choose to wait until 2008 and Dean goes down in 2004, then the party's going to move away from the left, or something. Like I can't run in 2012? Statistically, by then he'll likely be having trouble with the prostate, and we all know what THAT means -- trouble in the hydraulics department is what that means. Tough luck, I say. If we end up back in the big house, I want to know for a fact that there's nothing al dente about . . .

From the diary of Arnold Schwarzenegger, candidate for governor of California:

. . . cheering crowds gathered, which was nice for us to see, and holding signs and banners and papers that said "Go Arnold" and such things, which was nice. But I worry, of course, and kept scanning the crowd for signs of danger to myself and my family. To most of the people, this is just a simple race for the governor of California. But to a killer robot from the future, who knows? I noticed a few people who could have been killer robots from the future in humanoid disguise, but it turned out that they were not killer robots. Of course, that's the problem with killer robots from the future: They're hard to detect in a crowd. This will be the first thing I tackle when I get to Sacramento. Maybe some kind of chip implanted in all non-killer-robots- from-the-future is the way to go. Or, if that's too expensive . . .

From the diary of Wesley Clark, candidate for the presidency of the United States:

. . . when I clearly asked for them scrambled. This one had kind of a smart mouth, and he insisted I said "over easy," which simply wasn't the case. "I never said 'over easy,' sir," I barked at him. At which point he showed me his dirty pad on which he had scrawled what looked like "ovr ez," like that settled that. How am I supposed to remember every little thing I've said since time began? How am I supposed to say on this date at such and such a time I said such and such about such and such? I could feel my fist tighten around my fork as he kept insisting that I had . . .

From the diary of Gary Coleman, candidate for governor of California:

. . . difficulties with the various state employee unions, which have effectively stalled any meaningful budget process. From my back-of-the- envelope analysis -- which, admittedly, isn't entirely accurate (I still haven't factored in certain deferred interest costs, or the possibility that some of the current state reconstruction bonds can be converted into a more flexible instrument of state finance) but nevertheless reveals a couple of core problems, beyond the now-tired energy-crisis shibboleth, which is so easily discredited as a cause of the state budget woes I'm surprised that it's still a generally accepted cause by tout le monde . . . Ah well. No one ever went broke underestimating . . ., etc. etc. I think my best strategy will be to freeze certain state wage hikes, though to trial-balloon a bigger cut, then deliver a smaller one, which will give me a certain momentum to attack the workmen's comp issue and push through a cluster of stealth entitlement reforms before my "honeymoon" is over. It's a cliche, I know, but cliches are such for a reason: They're often true. I'll have a certain grace period -- shall we say, strictly entre nous, et pour nos amusements, one hundred days? -- in which to accomplish a few key things and get the momentum on our side. The "big mo," as they say. Will need to brief senior staff and campaign aides tomorrow morning in re: this strategy. Of course, I may be getting ahead of myself . . .