Simcha Fisher, author of The Sinner’s Guide to Natural Family Planning writes for several publications and blogs daily at Aleteia. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and ten children. Without supernatural aid, she would hardly be a human being.
You know why January 1 is a holiday, right? It was instituted to commemorate the deification of Julius Caesar.
Now, far be it from me to suggest that this year’s presidential candidates should honor the memory of our ancient Roman forebears by thinking of the good of the Republic and then, I don’t know, stabbing each other to death.
I do have some advice for them, though. I’m offering ready-made New Year’s resolutions for the folks who— oh, I can hardly bear to make my sad, disbelieving fingers type these words—might be our next president:
NEWT GINGRICH: First, so as not to appear biased, I want to put to rest once and for all the dastardly rumor that Mr. Gingrich divorced his cancer-stricken wife on her death bed. Hogwash! That makes the man sound downright evil. All’s he did, see, was make her life so intolerable with his loathsome behavior that she had a moment of clarity. Having gotten rid of one tumor, she thought of her husband and decided to make a clean sweep; and so she initiated the divorce proceedings. See? Completely her fault. The Newt’s all right.
And now on to my suggestion for the Hon. Mr. Gingrich: Make one last stab at convincing the American people that he’s really different, he’s really changed, he’s really repented (and, above all, doesn’t take himself too seriously). Two words, Newty Newt (and you can get one of your aides to read them to you, if you’re too busy lobbying Freddie Mac for a sweet deal on the financing for your new Arbeit Macht Frei Complex of Punitive Orphanages and Work Houses for the Guilty Poor—because, as we know, rich people are never to blame for the mess this country’s in, and never take taxpayer’s money that they’re not entitled to). Oh, I’m so mad I lost track of my parenthesis!
As I was saying, two words: John Profumo.
HERMAN CAIN: Whatever you bought your wife for Christmas, go back to the store and get more. Wrap it nicely, add a few extremely large diamonds, and then humbly present your lying, cheating behind, to be kicked repeatedly. Choo choo! (Yeah, I know he dropped out. But he still owes us for wasting as much time as he did with his ridiculous hoax of a campaign.)
RON PAUL: Become a little more culturally literate. Anyone who’s familiar with even the lowest forms of American entertainment knows the routine by now: at this stage in the narrative, the alien life form who looks, acts, and thinks like an enormous cockroach takes OFF the human mask. It’s a horrible sight, but at least people know exactly what they’re dealing with.
RICK PERRY: Don’t need another thing from you, man. You’re a class act, realizing so early that you’re an utter nincompoop, and have no business running for president.
Wait, he . . . he’s still in? He’s still actually running for president?
Of the country?
JON HUNTSMAN: I’m sorry, who, now?
MICHELE BACHMANN: Look in the mirror; discover that you’re still partially human. Quick, before it’s too late, GET OUT OF POLITICS.
RICK SANTORUM: Again, you’re seemingly a decent person, but it’s time to fact facts: America is simply not ready for a woman president.
MITT ROMNEY: Tell more jokes. Every time old Mittward gets off a good one, I like him a little bit more. It’s like when my two-year-old puts her head inside a cardboard box and thinks she’s invisible: Mitt Romeny tells a joke and thinks it makes him look human. It’s cute! Aw, da woogie woogie woo. Guess who’s gonna vote for you? Oh yes I am! Because dere really isn’t any other choice, oh no dere’s not!
BARACK OBAMA: Keep doing what you’re doing, my friend. It’s only the contrast with you that makes these jokers look even vaguely electable.
What’s that you say? If I’m so smart, what’s my New Year’s Resolution? How about this: in the year 2012—it won’t be easy, but I think I can do it, if I put my mind to it—in the year 2012, I resolve to cast a vote for one of these insufferable clowns.
Wait, here’s another. My second resolution is to figure out what I, as an American, did—what offense did I commit, or what evil did I perform—to deserve such a brutally miserable reverse-Sophie’s Choice of a ballot.
Whatever it is I did, I resolve never, ever, ever to do it again.