Inderepublocrat, Part 1 (or "I Invented Booty Shorts")

A lot of people don't know this about me, but I am awesome at politics. Never lost an election in all my days. I'm undefeated. Unbeaten. Un. Van. Quished. Never even been quished. My sterling record mostly has to do with the fact that I rarely actually ran against another person, but I don't see a reason to make an issue out of the facts. This is an election year, after all.

See those booty shorts? Daddy invented them.
I fondly remember my first foray into politics. Bill Clinton thinks he's all bad cuz he was governor of some stupid state when he was only in his early thirties. Lah-dee frickin' dah. I was vice president of my sophomore class when I was barely fifteen. What can I say? I was prodigious. Precocious. Had a Pen. Chant. For. Ping. Pong. But only the Atari kind. I was a bit underdeveloped physically, to be honest.

The vice president race was me against Brian Cathcart. I felt like Brian had the edge going into the campaign. He was really good at math. I was pretty sure the quadratic formula was what was in the tank you wear on your back when you scuba dive. He had name recognition. I was a new kid. He was taking exotic Japanese classes with an honest-to-goodness Japanese lady who couldn't really speak English. I was taking German classes with Herr Slawson, who wore Speedos after school.

The whole thing came down to our speeches. The man with the best speech would take the day. It was like my whole life had funneled down to this moment in time that would fatefully determine which way the sophomore class would go next year. Would they select Brian Cathcart to lead them toward places like trigonometry and college? Or would they pick me to take them to places like study hall and Taco Bell? The phone was ringing, it was 3 a.m. -- who did they want to pick up that phone? Hopefully Brian, because I get some of my best sleep between 1:30 and 4 a.m.

They set up low bleachers in the gym annex and all the freshman filed in to hear what the candidates had to say. First, the people running for treasurer talked. They said some stuff about how we should vote for them because they save their money instead of spending it on Boyz II Men CD singles. I don't know, man. Sounds like bad judgment to me. Boyz II Men rocks so hard.

Then it was time for my speech. I stepped to the mike and scanned the crowd of freshmen. Plaid shirts, Kool-Aid dyed hair, and acne were staring back at me. They were bored and angsty. "Here we are now," they were thinking. "Entertain us." My speech wasn't bad, but it didn't electrify the crowd either, not like I did six months later in the sophomore homecoming skit when I dropped my trousers to show the school my boxers that had "97" written across the bum. I was the first one to ever write stuff on the bum of a pair of shorts. Basically, I invented booty shorts.

Now it was down to Brian. I thought he was going to pull it off. I really did. His hair was sticking up a bit in the back, but I felt like he was really connecting with the students, making promises about getting OK Soda to come out of the drinking fountains and booking Everclear to do a set in the cafeteria at lunchtime.* The dogs of defeat were nipping at my heels.

But then, fortune intervened. Brian's voice cracked smack dab in the middle of his speech. It was miraculous. He was just speaking into the mike all normal-like, and then, his voice just cracked. He squeaked. It was only for an instant, then he recovered. But scattered guffaws rippled through the crowd, and in that instant, I knew I'd won. In a gym full of fourteen year-olds, when your voice cracks, it's clear you're just not vice presidential material. And when the ballots rolled in, I'd taken 16 out of 25 rows of lockers. I did particularly well among the losers and wussies, and also the guys who made fun of people whose voices were still changing. Generally, hot girls and people with common sense voted for Brian.** And just like that, I was on my way.

* I have no idea what Brian actually said in his speech. I don't remember a thing about my speech either.

** I made up the entire second half of this paragraph. If there's one thing I know about high school elections, it's that they don't do exit polls.