Good Morning, My Fellow Americans.
I come to you today from the City of Twins, St. Paul. We’ve all been through a lot in the past two weeks, none more than me. I’ve endured great pain, boredom, frustration. But I haven’t complained once.
My editors phoned me this morning, here in my very own “Hanoi Hilton on the Mississippi.” They asked if I wanted them to move up my flight time as I had requested in my early missive. Although I would benefit personally from such a move, I said no. I could not “Jump In Line” ahead of my countrymen also dying to leave this Torturous Timberland.
As I stare into the smudgey Motel room mirror, I see the red scars left from my combat on the streets in front of McDonalds. The Pepper Spray wounds no Visine could erase.
I also see the scars that are unseen, the scars inside that I will have to carry with me for the rest of my days. The inner tears I hold for cows that gave their lives for Big Macs that would never be eaten.
Looking into the mirror I also see a man who is older, wiser. I’ve grown these past two weeks. Grown in ways you could not understand without having experienced it yourself. That doesn’t make me better than you, just more worldly. But don’t worry, young ones, your days will come soon enough…
I’m proud to have had the chance to teach the people how it works out here in the “Real World.”† Immersed in your own lives, Television programs and who-knows-what, you can’t know the feeling of being an arm’s length from Power, Fame, and The Things That Matter.
Whether Barracks Obama’s Hopeful Message of Audacity or John McCain’s Inspiring Tale of Crashing His Plane in the Jungles of Vietnam, this is where the action is—alas, where you are not.
I ask nothing in return for my sacrifice. But behold this gift of grace, surely a reward from our Devine Father:
This VHS copy of “An American President” was meant for me, meant for my cherished VHS Library. While stumbling home in pain, hunched over and weeping like a child, I was somehow able to see through my wall of tears this—this Godsend—waiting for me on the side of the street. There was a large black Hefty bag which† had been ripped open by perhaps a homeless person or a wild Minnesota Badger. Or maybe it was a Higher Power that ripped open that Hefty bag, allowing some of it’s contents to spill out onto the sidewalk.
Although the cover was partially covered by old chicken bones, banana peel, and a crumpled Kleenex, I immediately spotted the sheen of Stone-Romancer Michael Douglas’s mane and swept down to rescue the tape from the pile of refuse.
This election is perhaps the Most Critical Election in our lifetimes. That’s not something we say every four years, either: right now is make or break for the U S of A. To whom will you turn?
Personally, I’m not interested in a Democratic President or a Republican President. I’m interested in “An American President.” I’ve got a few hours before I need to leave for the airport, and I intend to use them right here with the VCR in my room.
As the curtain fades on the American Political Conventions of 2008, let me just add that I still believe in the Shining City of Twins on the Hill. And that city is America.
Thank you and God Bless.
Signing off,
Kelly
