Thursday, November 10, 2016



 Over the last few days, to my crushing disappointment, it has become apparent that I will not be elected President of the United States this year.  I am deeply sorry for this, not only for the sake of my country, which I would  have lovingly served to the best of my ability - but also for my own sake, because I was really hoping to visit Europe and the rest of the world at taxpayer expense trailed by a large, fawning entourage.  I called all the major networks and informed them that I would be delivering my concession speech tonight from my front porch, but apparently they feared to share such disappointing news with the American people - and who could blame them, given the parade of negative stories this week?  So here it is, America, in cold, hard black and white -

                                                    MY CONCESSION SPEECH.

     My fellow Americans, it is with deep regret, but an overwhelming respect for the democratic process (tempered only by my complete loss of respect for the common sense of the American electorate) that I must inform you that I have failed in my goal to be elected as your President in the year 2016.  I must ask that you refrain from demonstrations of remorse and grief, reckless vandalism, poodle hickeys, and uncle abuse.  Suck it up, America, and accept that this is not your year to be led by the one and only Indiana Smith.

     But, before I bid you a fond farewell, perhaps it would profit us to look back on the history of our epic campaign to send me to the White House.  It started late one night this spring, when I realized that the Democrats were determined to nominate a cybernetic, feminized clone of Doctor Evil and George Washington with enough political baggage to fill three boxcars, while my own beloved Republican Party had chosen to nominate an ill-tempered, foul-mouthed space alien (I mean, seriously, folks, I love diversity as much as the next guy, but human beings are not meant to be ORANGE!!).  Seeing such weak competition, I thought that surely an intelligent, charming, eloquent, and incredibly good-looking historian and novelist would be a shoe-in!

    So began my quixotic campaign, waged entirely on social media with the aid of my faithful army of Facebook and Twitter followers.  We prepared memes, thought up slogans, and even came up with a compelling list of no fewer than twenty reasons why people should vote for me.  In case you have forgotten, I have included them below:



1.      I will replace “Hail to the Chief” with JOURNEY’s “Don’t Stop Believing” as the Presidential anthem.

2.     I won’t wear hideous  pantsuits that make me look like a refugee from “The Golden Girls.”

3.     I won’t use so much fake tanning cream that my complexion comes to resemble that of a moldy orange.

4.     Reason to vote for me?  Two words:  No combover!

5.     No boring, single-color neckties for President Smith!

6.     There hasn’t been a President with facial hair in over a century.  It is time – go to the goatee!!!

7.     Young people LOVE me!!

8.     Three words:  Teddy Roosevelt redux!

9.     Indiana Jones isn’t running.  Indiana Smith IS.

10.   I’m already used to dealing with snakes.

11.   A Cabinet level department of Smackage to administer brisk smacks in the head to idiots who deserve them.

12.   I never wipe my servers – I have more respect for waitstaff than that!

13.   I learn from my mistakes.   

14.   I’ve never taken a penny from PAC’s or special interest groups.

15.   I’m smarter than the average bear!

16.   Look at my First Lady!

17.   I will dig up the truth – and any arrowheads buried near it!

18.   I will appoint Chuck Norris as Secretary of Defense, thereby eliminating the need for the U.S. Military.

19.   I will build a wall around Donald Trump, and make Donald Trump pay for it (by lining the inside with mirrors!).

20.   I’m neither crazy nor mean.

     It was a foolproof plan, or so I thought.  But, alas, I spent all of my campaign donations on Diet Dr. Pepper, and unfortunately I could not get Ronald Reagan's zombie to be my running mate. He kept going off and hunting for "Brrraaiins!" only to be disappointed when he found nothing but Donald Trump supporters.   Media attention faded early, after my plan to parachute into the offices of the New York Times came to naught due to my inability to raise the air fare.  And, despite being voted the Sexiest Fat Man Alive by one of the four women who lives in my household (my daughter's specific words were: "Sure, Dad, whatever it takes to keep the tears away at night!"),  I didn't do very well with the female demographic.  (Honestly, I thought "Bring me a sandwich - in the White House!" was a GREAT campaign slogan!)

    So now that the dust has settled and the air has cleared, I would like to congratulate my opponents Hillary Clinton, who can now return her pantsuit collection to the wardrobe department of THE GOLDEN GIRLS, Gary Johnson, who can get back to smoking pot, and Jill Stein, who is sobbing uncontrollably at this moment while engaging in a passionate embrace with a California redwood.  And, to Harambe the Dead Gorilla, who outpolled me 15,000 to 6 - YOU SUCK!!
Now for Donald Trump, the space alien - I think your overlords from Neptune are paging you.  Better go report in and see how they want you to run the country!

     But all is not lost.  I have not given up my dream of having sushi and chicken and dumplings for supper in bed in the Lincoln Bedroom, nor of hiring Anne Hathaway as my personal administrative assistant and fetcher of Presidential sodas  (OUCH!! Hey, sweetheart, I was just kidding!!!!  Geez, some women are SO jealous!).  A dream deferred is not necessarily a dream denied, and #smith2020 may definitely be the hashtag of the future.

     In the meantime, the BEST thing you can do to help elect me as the 46th President of the United States is to increase my name recognition by boosting my Amazon sales rank.  So please, go to this link and order about five copies of each of my novels - one set to read yourself, and four to give as Christmas gifts this season.  Do it for yourself.  Do it for the future.


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