Last night I had the weirdest dream. It involved all 4 Republican nominees, Ronald “McDonald” Paul, Newt Gingrich, “Pretty” Ricky Santorum, and Willard “Mitt” Romney. This dream was very vivid unlike most of the dreams I have. This dream started with a phone call from someone associated with the Republican National Convention.
“This is Chuck Billy Roscoe Peecoldtrain. How are you today?”
“I’m great? And you?”
“Great as well. Listen, the reason for this phone call is because we here at the R.N.C committee need your help. We heard that you’re one of the best at reshaping images through music. Now, the convention is coming up on August 27 thru August 30 and quite frankly, the candidates need some…retooling. Some of the music choices are just…atroicious. I mean, Newt playing that god awful WWF Hulk Hogan “Real American” theme music doesn’t resonate at all. In fact, if I’m ever in his presence and I get a chance to get a hold of that CD, I’m breaking it. But he did give me an idea. I was thinking that we could go with an 80’s theme convention. Screw the stuffy suits! We want leather pants, women dressing like Madonna back in the day. It’s gonna be great. So what I need from you is for you to come up with entrance music for each of these candidates. Theme music that can best capture each of these guys personalities before they give their speeches, but with 80 music. You think you can handle that? Get my vision?”
“Yeah, I follow you. It’s completely stupid in my opinion. But hey, it ain’t my convention. OK, I’ll do it, but I got to meet with these gentleman individually. Tell them all to meet me in the Attle next week and we’ll go from there.
“Seattle. I got some things to do up there next week. It will be real covenant for me.”
“Great! I will email them the times that would be best for you to meet with them. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. And by the way, I take straight cash. People bounce checks.”
Fast forward to next week. I’m sitting in a conference room in a 5 star hotel waiting on 4 of the lamest dudes I have ever seen. I didn’t even bother to dress professionally. It’s just too damn early in the morning. I just roll out of my rack and put on a vintage green Seattle Supersonics T-shirt, jeans, and white Air Force 1 sneakers. Surprisingly, Peecoldchain shows up. I didn’t expect to see this loser.
“Morning? I didn’t expect to see you here!”
“I know. I was just so excited to see what you came up with. Everyone is waiting outside and I just ran into Ron in the lobby and he was on his way in. Oh, here he is!”
Now in walks Ron Paul. He’s an older gentleman in an even older brown ill fitted suit.
“Mr Paul. How are you doing this morning?”
“Please, call me Ron. I’m doing great. I’ve heard a lot about you. Peecoldtrain told me that you are here to get me ready for this 80’s convention that we’re having.”
“Yes sir. Now what I need you to do is just follow me, don’t take anything I say about you or your campaign to heart, and just close your eyes and follow my vision. Fair?”
“OK. Now, when I pick this song for you, I just thought about your campaign as a whole and let’s face it. Your chances of winning this election are as good as my chances at a Ku Klux Klan rally. No shot. But you just keep coming hard. And that’s why this song fits perfect. Just listen to the lyrics and you’ll understand. I hit the button for the overhead projector and it starts playing
The look on this guys face is priceless. I even saw him tapping his foot to the beat. I think he really wanted to start dancing, but he had to keep his cool.
“Wow! Let me just tell you. Honestly, I think this song is perfect. It puts a nice little bow on what went on with my campaign this year. It’s perfect! Thank you! You’re really good!”
As Ron walked out of the room happy, Peecoldtrain didn’t seem to have that same feeling.
“OOOKKK?! Let me get Newt in here.”
In strolls Newt. Well, actually he doesn’t stroll, he waddles. Along with Newt is his 3rd wife, Callista. This woman looks like a bird of some sort. Maybe it’s the hair. I don’t know, but they both shake my hand.
“Nick! Great name! Peecoldtrain tells us that you have some new campaign music for me. Hey, by the way, would you like to take a picture with me. Since Peecoldtrain knows you, I’ll just charge you 25 dollars instead of 50 dollars. Sounds good?
“Not really. And I’m doing great this morning. Thanks for asking. Can we get down to business. Now, like I told Ron, don’t take what I say about your campaign or you to heart. Just follow my vision. Now, Newt if I were you, I would start looking at the fact that been married 3 times as a positive. All those times you were cheating on your wives as a sign that you’re a lover and not a fighter. So I think this song captures that perfectly. I’m hitting the button on the projector. Ready?”
Callista and Newt don’t look happy. They walk out of the room without saying one word. No thank you, no you suck, no nothing.
“What the heck was that?” Peecoldtrain asked.
“What? You said for me to give them some pep. When I see Newt and Calista, I see that song in my head. I want him to embrace his inner cheater. People might not like it, but they will respect it in the end.”
Peecoldchain didn’t expect that one to come from me
“Anymore surprises? I mean, I can’t another one.”
“What do you care? I’m doing what was asked of me. Now, who’s next? I got things to do.”
Clearly flustered, “All right, let me get Rick.” Rick Santorum walks into the room with the most confused look on his face. Which just put the stamp of approval on the song I picked for him.
“Hi, Rick Santorum!”
“Nick, nice to meet you. Alright, so I’m on a time constraint, so let’s get to it. Like I told the other 2, please don’t take what I say about your campaign or you to heart it’s just my vision of what I see. And what I saw from you when you walked into this room spoke volumes. You looked lost and confused. So I’m just gonna play the song and you tell me what your thoughts are. I hit the button for the projector
He turns around and says to me “I don’t get it. I don’t understand what you’re saying about me in this song.”
“Exactly Ricky. You don’t get it, but when you come thru that curtain to make your speech and people hear this song, they will totally get it. Trust me!”
“OK whatever you say. Do what you think is best. Thanks.” And he walks out.
“He worries me.” Peecoldchain whispers to me. “Let me get Mitt. Mitt walks in with his usual casual attire: a dress shirt rolled up on his arms, some nut hugging jeans, and a pair of Italian dress shoes with leather bottom soles. Mitt shakes my hand.
“Good morning. I really like your shirt. I’m not really friends with the former owner of the Supersonics, but I know owners who are friends with him and he is just a marvelous guy. Have you had breakfast this morning? I sent Ann to see if they got some cheesy grits. Have you ever had some?”
“Yeah. Don’t want any.”
“Yeah, I was down south and they were just to die for. Oh my God!”
“Can we get down to business? Like I told the others don’t take what I say about you and your campaign to heart. It’s just what I see when I see you coming out to give your acceptance speech at the R.N.C. And yes, unfortunately, you will get the nomination. However, you need a song to come out to that talks about your lifestyle. Something simple. Something like this.
Something weird started to happen. As Ann Romney was bringing Mitt is requested cheesy grits, she paused to watch her husband try to imitate David Bryne’s dance moves from the video. I’m standing in amazement. “I take it you like the choice of song that I choose?”
“Like it! I love it!” Peecoldchain and I look at each other with shock and amazement.
“Yeah, he does.” says Ann. “As a matter of fact, Mitt loves to dance.”
“Really? Well what do you think about after he wins the nomination, he can do a little dance on stage and you join him?
“That’s sounds like fun. Do you have a song for that?”
“I’m glad you asked. I was prepared for this moment. I was thinking you might want to rub it in the faces of the other candidates and their wives as you accept the nomination. And I got the perfect song for and dance routine for you guys to do. I hit the button on the projector.
I wake up in a panic and sit up in my bed. Shook my head to clear it thanking God that it was only a dream. Could you imagine that happening in real life? Scary thought. Politicians being honest.