I wrote this bit back in 2001 after being challenged as to what I would do if I were elected President.
I think it’s probably time for a bit of political humour to leaven the doom-and-gloom, so I dusted it off and updated it a bit.
What would I do if I were elected as President?
First thing, right after the swearing-in, I’d write my first, last and only Executive Order — nullifying any and all previous Executive Orders issued by any President.
Which would result in the historical, first truly bi-partisan Congress — Democrats and Republicans united together against anything President ‘Dog would try to do from that point on.
Second, I’d call the head of each office which reports to the Executive Branch and tell them to send me a memo detailing where, exactly, in the Constitution their offices are authorized.
In the rare instance that the office is actually authorized by the Constitution, I’d request a set of reasons and examples of why that particular person should keep his or her job.
Said memo should be on my desk by noon that day. Resignations would be freely accepted in lieu of the memos.
Democrats and Republicans would set a record for filing impeachment measures.
After lunch, I’d give a press conference and announce that each and every bill to cross my desk would detail exactly where the Constitutional authorization for that bill is located. Any bill without such accompanying authorization would be immediately vetoed — no matter what the topic of the bill. Any bill mentioning the Interstate Commerce Clause would be automatically vetoed without even a reading.
67% percent of the Senate would immediately crater my vetos.
The Media would turn my name into a synonym for Stalin, George III and Pol Pot.
I’d follow up by ordering the Attorney General to bring a copy of any and all tax records concerning the UN building and UN personnel to my office. Along with a copy of Kelo v. New London.
People in major urban areas would riot.
I’d spend the evening tearing out the White House swimming pool and installing a gun range.
The next morning, Congress would issue a joint condemnation of my first day in office and the Media would hint broadly at lynch mobs.
While they were doing this, my Attorney General would be filing eminent domain proceedings against the UN.
Since I like to copper my bets, I’d draw an advance on my first months paycheck, buy a truckload of dynamite and order the Commandant of the Marine Corp to de-infestate the UN building.
While the Marines are chucking UN politicos off the pier, I’d be personally setting charges in the UN basement.
At lunchtime, I’d have a cheeseburger and fries and watch the UN building go up like a Roman candle.
John Kerry would issue a press release calling my sanity into question and offering to be President pro tem until mental health professionals could examine President Dog.
Letting the power go to my head, I’d invite Scarlett Johannson to the White House and offer to show her my guns if she’d show me hers.
Getting thoroughly shot down by pro-Democrat Miss Johansson, I’d go down to the DC PD, and inform the Chief of Police that no anti-gun laws would be enforced in the District of Columbia. Then I’d have the Secret Service break his knees until he saw the light, and I got over my heartbreak.
CNN would issue me my very own background graphic, complete with catchy tune.
The next morning I’d read about two of the new bills to cross my desk, set fire to the rest of them, load up a shotgun and two 1911’s, head over to Congress and offer to shoot the next sumbitch who authors another blatantly unConstitutional bill.
Afterwards, I’d break ground and dedicate the President LawDog Free Trade Port — coincidentally located on the spot formerly occupied by the UN building.
The Media would go into a collective fit of apoplexy, the President of France would faint and I’d have more shrieking harpies on the front lawn than camels got fleas.
The afternoon of Day Three of The LawDog Presidency, I’d call a press conference/skeet shoot in the Rose Garden. I foresee it going something like this:
“Mr. President! Mr. President! What gives you the right to veto bills that contradict the Constitution?!”
“Quitcherwhining. Stupidity is supposed to hurt. Didn’t even break the skin. Much. Next question?”
I anticipate a short conference.
That evening I’ll amuse myself by sending a novelty rubber check and a hangman’s noose to each member of Congress — just to get their minds properly focused.
I figure by 0900 on Day Four, I’ll be hot-wiring the Presidential Yacht about 20 minutes ahead of a rampaging patchouli-and-hemp-wearing torch-waving mob. My last act as POTUS will probably be shaking my fist at Washington, D.C. from the stern of the afore-mentioned rapidly-departing yacht whilst bellowing: “You didn’t deserve me!”