2002-04-14 - 6:36 p.m.

My Fellow Americans:

It appears that certain of my esteemed opponents have been so kind as to publish, no doubt for the benefit of their ever-decreasing electoral base, manifestos and threats, designed to convince the world of their own historical inevitability, or to differentiate themselves throught the unabashed use of anti-feminist invective. They have shown their true colors: Mad-men and mad-Men, all.

In the interests then of fairness, and NOT of jumping on another band-wagon, thank you very much, I would like to answer these charges and insinuations categorically.

Charge 1: that the world needs a 'fighter' and not a 'lover'. I beg to differ. To paraphrase the song, 'what the world needs now, is lovin' sweet lovin'.' The Beatles put it best: All I need is love. Baby, and by that let me impress on the public that I mean the ladies here tonight, let us get our collective groove on. The middle east needs love: and I'm just the man to bring it to them. China must show love for Tibet: they only need a shining example of how to do it to guide their way. Latin America, the USA loves you. We know our advances in the past have been less than advantageous: yes, we were strong men, but did we listen to YOUR needs? In all humility, I ask you, Latin America, to give this old lover a shot at redemption. And to Mama Earth: I love you too. I love your rivers, your mountains, your valleys, even the plain I love. Just lay down humanity: I will sooth thy weary bones. There may be those who charge I do not have enough experience to carry out this ambitious goal: to them I say 'I know a little 'bout love, but baby I can guess the rest.'

Charge 2: I will spend the next 10 years trying not to be eaten by velociraptor assissins. Simply untrue. While candidate Wheel's velociraptor assissins are numerous and dealdy, what he does not realize is that, as creatures of the absurd, they know one of their own. I am their kind. Waffles have no hold on me, floating or otherwise. The French too bow to my command: a simple trick, a baby could do it, but when they surrnder to me, I know they mean it. They too, are absurd. My absurdity is not to be found in expansive claims of power beyond your wildest dreams, nor in the machinations of shadow-cultists, but rather in my attempt to live a life of meaning in an absurd world. Yes, I have Dr. VON Wheel all figured out, and I know him to his fish-like core: eels and vampire monkeys eat cheese-cake as Paris burns, but all bow to me in the end.

Charge 3: I don't actually have a charge three to respond to, mostly due to the significant silence of the 4th part of this campaign: Heph, what dost thou? Slinking silently in carved corners of careful observation can only get you so far. What do you have planned for this campaign, how escape you the velociraptors of death, do you fight for love or love to fight? Well? Obviously stunned into silence by my superior rhetoric. Ha.

There you have it. Vote for me: a vote for Padraig is a vote for love-making among the eels.

�

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