As Civil War General Sherman replied about his plans concerning the upcoming presidential election:
“I will not accept if nominated, and not serve if elected.”
Put me down for that “Shermanesque” statement, as well. Although I am still working on how you get elected if you previously refused to be nominated. I guess there’s the alternative “Write-In.” But a lifetime of experiencing “‘P’, as in Paul, ‘O’, as in ‘ocelot’” demonstrates that few people can spell “Pomerantz”, so that electoral avenue is equally impracticable.
And then, there’s “The Big One” (explaining why I couldn’t be president.)
Before we go there…
Have I sufficiently clarified my total disinterest in the position?
Let me be perfectly succinct:
I do not want to be President of the United States.
As previously mentioned, I did not want to be “10A” class president at Bathurst Heights Collegiate (and Vocational School), demonstrated by my vociferous “Decline!” the moment my name was put up for nomination.
Democracy’s wonderful in theory. But when I’m involved, I prefer everything to be done my way. Any debate on the issue is simply wasting my time. If you can’t see I’m right, the heck with ya!
Have I sufficiently made my case for not wanting to be president?
You say I have?
The heck with ya!
And now, free of suspected ulterior motives – a natural-born Canadian wanting to be president, which, believe me, I don’t – I shall proceed to the serious business of this undertaking.
There is a clause in the United States Constitution asserting that the president (or Vice President, because, you know… sometimes – eight times out of forty-five – the president dies in office or gets assassinated and the “Veep” is subsequently required to “move up”) the rule is, the president (and Vice President) must have been born in the United States.
(Or on, like, some army base in Germany, or American embassy who-know-where, which both count as American “soil.” Although, proceeding further along those lines, there is no mention of being born on an “Indian Reservation”, where you can qualify for casino croupier but not, it would seem, to be president of the United States.)
I am not saying me – and I am finished with that tiresome disclaimer –
But, me aside, I see no reason someone who was not born here should be restrictedly banned from becoming president of the United States.
Using my most sharply honed debating techniques to support the abovementioned assertion,
That’s just stupid.
What’s so important about having been born in this country? People are born every place. Is there something uniquely special about coming out here?
I understand concerns about nefarious “foreign influence.” Although, through relaxed regulation, previously considered nefarious “foreign influences” are now able to own newspapers (a Korean immigrant purchased the Los Angeles Times), TV stations (Australian Rupert Murdock) and movie studios (Japan’s Sony Pictures snapped up Columbia.)
Why not loosen the rules for being a president as well?
I mean, you don't want to go crazy here. We could include a “No accents” rider; you do not want “The Leader of our Nation” to sound Austrian. You could also include a “Jargon Disqualifier”, where the potential candidate is asked to identify a laminated table surface, and if they say “Arborite” rather than “Formica”, they’re out!
But, you know… you came here when you were two, and you have lived here ever since. Isn’t it wrong to eliminate possible “DACA” candidates? If they promise to take a firm stand on “repatriating” their parents?
I’m not saying, you show up from abroad and run for president the following Tuesday. But how ‘bout a negotiated “Cut-off”?
You are a Constitutionally-required over 35-year old American citizen – I’ll let the kids wrestle with the questionable “age” distinguisher – who has lived here permanently for, say, 25 years – long enough to get those pesky “foreign influences” out of their systems –
I mean, what’s so terrible about that?
Okay, so they prefer curling to football – the disparity in brain-damaging concussions notwithstanding – despite the possibly apocryphal “Jock beaned me with the rock!” – they favor chopsticks over eating utensils that won’t give you slivers, and have a facility in languages other than English, which they speak fluently, though they occasionally slip and say “Toilet” rather than “The Men’s Room.” (Or “The Ladies Room”, but let’s take this “barrier-breaking” one step at a time.)
So what, about all that stuff?
If you are the best person for the job? I say, forget the “has-to-be-born-here” restriction and elect them to the highest office in the land.
The “easy” ending for this post:
“When you see who’s there now, could we really possibly do worse?”
The less partisan approach:
“It is a reasonable idea that is not going to happen.
“So much for democratic debate!”
(And by the way, “Off with their heads!”)