Cleveland Without Diapers

July 8, 2016

As I gear up for the convention, I can’t help thinking back to that day 13 months ago when I came down the escalator to announce my candidacy before an audience of adoring fans and paid actors. Back then, no one took me seriously. Now everyone takes me seriously. I’m as serious as herpes.

That’s nice.

Yesterday was tough, though. We had to let some air out of that Cwis Cwistie veep balloon—and there was a lot of air there, that I can tell you. I had a staffer tell the press off the record that we’d pick Satan before we picked Cwis.

0917-chris-christie-care-bear-fun-art-7So Cwis came over and said, “Oh, Baby DonDon, I am so hurt, what does Satan have that I don’t? Is he better at snarling bridge traffic than I am? Is he more vindictive? I don’t think so. I thought you were my BFF.”

I told him BFF stood for burger and French fries. “Have some,” I said. He did, and everyone felt better.

At the moment, I’m leaning toward Newt Gingrich for veep. I like it that his stupid first name sounds a lot like “nuke.” That’s cute. Also, I could say, “Get me my Newt.” Saying “my Newt” suggests he is smaller than me, even though he used to be Speaker of the House. Makes me feel like big Baby DonDon.

So I’m throwing this huge party in Cleveland and I’m only inviting people who’ve been nice to me. That leaves out a lot of nasty, vicious scumbags. It’s their loss, because they’ll be missing out on the 20,562 goodie bags we’ve filled with Milky Ways, soft chocolate chip cookies, Twizzlers and bullets. We would give out guns, but most delegates are bringing their own, so that didn’t make sense.

But—and this is the big story—the Stop Baby DonDon forces are planning one last stand at the convention and they think A baby lying on a blanket holding their toes and smilingthey may succeed! That is an outrage! This would make even more of a mockery of democracy than I have made already. My level-headed adviser Roger Stone said I should nuke Cleveland. I told him my family and I would be there.

“Suitcase nuke,” he said. “Very targeted.”

Oh that Roger, he’s always thinking. Except for that day he got that tattoo of Nixon’s face on his back. Roger could be the poster boy for not making big life decisions when you’re plastered.

We’ve been talking to some Cleveland bigshots and don’t be surprised to hear a bunch of Stop Trump delegates were picked up and composted by sanitation trucks. Hey, I can be eco-friendly when I want.

Don’t forget to recycle.

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Andrew Feinberg is the author of Four Score and Seven, a novel that imagines Abe Lincoln comes back to life for two weeks during the 2016 campaign and encounters a candidate who, some say, resembles Donald Trump. It is available on Amazon. He is the author or co-author of five non-fiction books. His political journalism and humor have appeared in the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Playboy, GQ, Barron's and Kiplinger's Personal Finance.

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