There's nothing cuter than a 9 year old running for class president. On the flip side, there's nothing more pathetic than a college student running for a student office.
Mike and I were in a fraternity with one of those guys. His name was Ryan and he was super peppy with a saccharine yet sad quality. Needless to say, his personality did not blend well with Mike's and my cynical and irony-driven personalities.
Anyway, Ryan was combing the many floors of the fraternity house asking people if they would help him put up campaign posters for his latest run. Each of his perky requests was denied as he went from room to room. Finally, when he got to Mike and me, he gave a half-hearted appeal for help.
In a fit of atypical pity I said, "Sure, we'd love to."
"Really?", asked Ryan.
"Really", said Mike, and then in a fit of typical snarkiness said, "But, we'll just write slogans for you in chalk on the sidewalks of campus."
Mike and I then killed an hour walking across campus writing demographic-specific slogans.
In front of the Women's Studies building: "Our bodies, Ourselves! Vote for Ryan"
In front of the History department: "54' 40'' or Fight! Vote for Ryan."
In front of the Communication building: "I believe you have a real major! Vote for Ryan."
In front of the ATM: "Cash! Money! Hoes! Vote for Ryan."
Not surprisingly, Ryan lost that election. Don't worry about him, though. He's now a marketing manger for the Texas Roadhouse restaurant chain. So, the next time you're ordering the advertised "Southwestern Pizza Rolls" on "Monday's Margarita Madness" night, thank us, his motley crew of a campaign team, for keeping him out of the jaws of politics and getting him into his true calling: Helping the Red States get even fatter.
