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It was December and I was unemployed. The weather was brutally cold if not downright miserable. I was alone in the City. My girlfriend had gone home to Germany. Visa issues and bureaucratic requirements, and all that. So it was just me. Me and lots of time on my hands. Sure I spent some of it looking for work. Filling out page after page of applications. Cutting previous potential employer’s names and addresses out of my cover letter and pasting new potential employer’s names and addresses in. Why reinvent the wheel?

Sometimes I would wander out. Your brain starts to get mushy sitting inside all day in front of a computer. And sometimes the cold, fresh air of winter solidifies it again and gives it that extra get-up-and-go you needed to click “Submit” on that last job application of the day.

On one of these excursions, I met another fellow about my age who could have also been unemployed. But, he wasn’t. He was a writer at Vice News. His name was Mike or Joe or Kevin. One of those names that if it was yours and you ordered a coffee at Starbucks, 15-20 other Mikes or Joes or Kevins might think it was theirs when the barista called out your name to pick up the order. We talked for a bit about this and that. He had one of those I’m-indestructible personalities and hipster know-how. He told me all about his job. How he was paid shit and a lot of his colleagues moonlighted as prostitutes or drug dealers depending on their gender. Or both, sometimes. And how there was certainly at times better money in the latter than working a real 9-5 job.

He asked me what it was I did after he got tired of talking about himself. I thought about it for a minute and said, “Well, Mike (or was it Joe or Kevin?), I work for Rand Paul. I make content for his social media sites, try to get the good word out, you know?” And we talked about that for a bit. I had no clue what I was saying and Mike didn’t seem to mind one bit. Maybe he knew it was grade-A bullshit and he was just bored. After a while, we said goodbye, oh, how we were busy and had places to be, and all that jazz. Professionals, right?

Since I didn’t really have a job nor really work for Rand Paul, I just went home.

No one had announced their candidacy, yet. But, I figured, what the hell, might as well get a running start on the business. So I made some bumper sticker drafts and other images related to the Senator from Kentucky and posted them around the internet.

Here are some of the results and the commentary I received:

randpaulcommittee HSTandRP Whiskydick1 Whiskydick2 Whiskydick3 Whiskydick4 Whiskydick5

It was a good gig while it lasted. I enjoyed myself and took up a lot of the free time I had on my hands. Then I got an actual job and months went by. It wasn’t for another couple months that candidates started emerging and I could pull out my old Rand Paul campaign slogans and ads I had made. I was pretty proud of those and he was, in my mind, the clear leader of the GOP pack, the one to campaign against. (I’m a Bernie man, myself, one those damn weird, free-thinking socialist).

I wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen. It was one of those things that you knew was bound to happen because it had happened so many times before; Trump entered the race. But what threw me off-kilter was how well his numbers are. As of recently, he was at 20.8%. A full 7.1 lead on the Wisconsin governor Scott Walker. And Rand Paul is behind a whopping 15.3 at 5.5%. At least he finds himself in good company. Those below Paul in counts are the Canadian Ted Cruz, Chris Christie, Rick Perry, and Rick Santorum to name a few. Because there are more to name. The Republicans really came out of the wood works for this one.

The Republican Party has outed itself as a sick schizophrenic with no clear united message or goal. But what does that say for those participating in the polls? I understand they are still suffering from Reagan Hero Worship and are jonesing for a replacement. But, Trump is no Reagan, regardless what Michael Reagan says about Trump having his dad’s passion. He’s not even a movie star. He’s just some two-bit reality TV star who doesn’t even have a network anymore. And the last thing America needs is a businessman whose poor business dealings landed four of his companies in Chapter 11 bankruptcy wherein $72 million of his own money was tied up.

Ye gods, I was kicking the wrong horse. But how was I supposed to know? Who would have thought that something so weird would become a reality? It is as if we have entered a new reality TV show and the same ignoramuses who call in to vote on those shows are showing up in record numbers to support this freak. But this is realer than Reality Television because this is actual, non-scripted Reality.

Good god, we’re done for! Love as always,

Dr. K.