by A. C. Fuller
That's a solid laugh line, and she lets it land.
"It still seems strange to me that I'm actually running for president, and sometimes I have my doubts. But every time I wonder why I'm doing this, I run into the same answer: I can't not run for president. Someone will be sworn in on January 20th, 2021, and I think it ought to be someone with some basic common sense. We've tried a lot of men without any, and I'm sorry, but it's just not working very well.
"The simplest political rule I know is a quote I read, I don't recall who it's by. 'Before you tear down a fence, find out why it was put up in the first place.' There are a lot of people whose high-minded ideals have them running around in all directions, tearing down fences left and right, tearing down laws and values and social contracts, and none of them seem to be checking out why those things were there in the first place.
"But you know who these big idealists always seem to forget? The ones who get left out of their grand schemes for remaking society? That's right, our children. Our children.
"Any parent will tell you their children are their highest priority, but politicians always seem to have something that's more important. I've worked and sacrificed for my children. I've baked I-don't-know-how-many brownies and cookies and tarts for bake sales to raise money for school activities, and you know what? I'm tired of it!
"There's always plenty of money when some weapons maker comes up with a new airplane the Air Force doesn't even want, isn't there? Tax giveaways for billionaires deducting yacht maintenance? No problem, just add it to the national debt! But when it's time to pay for schools, to pay for children's health care, to help parents spend more time with their children during the most precious and critical time of their lives? Then all of a sudden they can't afford it. Well you know what? There's a word for that, but it's not one I'll say on camera.
"If you believe, as I do, that our children are our future and our highest purpose, then this is your chance to put your money where your mouth is. We need a president who will put parents before politicians, and if no one else is going to, then I guess I'll have to be that president."
Some applause breaks out as she finishes, and Gwen Winters leans in close to her mic to get a volume bump as she says, "Please hold your applause until all the speakers have finished, or we won't have time for questions." When the applause drops, she continues. "Mr. Axum, you're next, and your time begins now."
Axum steps to the podium and clears his throat a little too loudly. "Is this thing on?"
A few chuckles and a few calls of "Yes!" come from the audience, and he smiles like the old man in a Werther's Original commercial. Despite being by far the least-prepared person on stage, he seems unflustered.
"Thank you. And thank you, Ms. Winters. I have a great deal of respect for your work. And thanks to Mia Rhodes, without whom none of us would be here."
The gaze of audience shifts to me, and, as they begin to applaud, Gwen Winters squashes it. "Again, to respect everyone's three minutes, please hold all applause until the end."
"Okay," Axum says, "but she deserves our thanks." After a long pause, he continues. "I didn't want to register for Ameritocracy. I didn't want to be president. I'm still not so sure about it. I've worked for three of them, and, let me tell you, it's not an enviable job. Long hours, excruciating decisions. Life or death decisions you think you want to make until you actually have to make them. I've seen the look in the eyes of three presidents, two Republicans and one Democrat. And I learned quickly that the look was the same."
He speaks slowly, each word chosen carefully, as you'd expect from a lawyer turned professor.
"The look was fear. And that's why I never ran for office. Despite teaching my students that public service is a great calling, and encouraging them to use the law to serve the greater good, I hid out in academia. And when my students told me about Ms. Rhodes's project, I dismissed it as an interesting idea that would likely go nowhere.
"Only after a month of haranguing by some of my more insistent students did I allow myself to be registered. Now, you can see my various positions and videos online, but there's only one point I want to make today, and it has to do with the idea of America itself.
"In 1787, as America debated the ratification of the U.S. Constitution, James Madison wrote a remarkable document, an essay we now call Federalist Number Ten. I'm sure you've all read it."
Mild laughter fills the room, and he gives it a moment.
"In it," he continues, "he argued against a two-party system. Continuing the work of Alexander Hamilton from Federalist Paper Nine, Madison defined faction as 'a number of citizens, whether amounting to a minority or majority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adverse to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the community.' Factions, he believed, were caused by inequality, largely economic inequality. If left to run amok, they could destroy the nation. The nation just then being born.
"Madison saw two ways to guard against faction. The first was to restrict liberty. This, of course was not desirable. The second was to force equality. To create a homogenous society, thereby eliminating divisive factions. This too was nonsensical because the government cannot be in the business of guaranteeing equal outcomes. 'The latent causes of faction are thus sown in the nature of man,' he wrote. 'Sown in the nature of man.' The only option, as far as Madison was concerned, was to design a government to control the divisive effects of faction. That's how American democracy was born.
"For the last two hundred thirty-two years, America has struggled to balance our desire for liberty and our desire for equality. Lately, the tension between these two desires has come close to tearing the country apart. Look around, watch your TV, or scroll through your phone, and you will likely agree with me.
"But it's not hopeless. We have political parties that are sometimes well-meaning, sometimes corrupt, but almost always mired in partisan politics. At their best, though, at their core, Republicans favor liberty over equality. And, at their best, at their core, Democrats favor equality over liberty. Neither side is inherently right, and our whole political system can be understood as a push and pull between these two poles."
He shifts his eyes to the clock, which is blinking red. "Personally, I lean toward liberty in most cases. And I see that I'm out of time, so I'll conclude by saying this: should I be chosen to represent Ameritocracy in the general election, the work of my campaign will be to pragmatically strike a balance between liberty and equality, the two fundamental yearnings of the American political spirit."
"Thank you, Professor Axum," Gwen says. "Third up—again by random drawing, is Tanner Futch."
Futch steps to the podium in full radio mode, exuding a deliberate manic energy. Unsurprisingly, his mic control is much better than Axum's. "Thanks, Gwen, and thanks, Professor, for that little history lesson. It sounded nice, but I, for one, don't have a damn idea what that means for real Americans.
"The fact is, real Americans used to have it pretty good. An honest guy could get an honest job and provide for his family. He didn't have to worry that he'd get mugged walking down the street. He didn't have to worry that the government was tapping his phone. He didn't have to worry about not being able to put food on his family's table. That stuff happened over in Russia, sure, but back then, you could still say with pride, 'I'm an American' and have it mean something!
"And now look around you. All those honest jobs are gone, shipped off to Mexico or China. All those honest families are broken up, eaten up inside by drugs and weakened morality. Today, all over the country, you've got honest hardworking Americans who no longer know how they're going to put food on the table, something that would have been unthinkable once. And they want to know why. They want to know how all that got taken away from them.
"Real Americans deserve to know why their jobs are being taken from them by immigration and automation, real Americans who have seen their once-united society torn apart
by the radical leftists, radical feminists, radical Islam, and a global financial conspiracy to destroy this once-great nation."
He laughs to himself, and it's too well-rehearsed to look rehearsed. To Tanner Futch, this is a performance, and the red-faced exasperation is part of it. He pulls out a red bandana and wipes his brow. "Well, someone said I can't go a full minute without saying the C-word…no, not that C-word, I mean conspiracy…and according to that clock I just proved them wrong. I made it ninety seconds.
"They like to make fun of me for using that word. They call me crazy or paranoid, just like they call you ignorant or racist. But you know what? So be it.
"They called me a conspiracy theorist when I said the CIA runs most of the media, then I taught them about Operation Mockingbird. They called me a conspiracy theorist when I said that a cabal of international banking elites actually runs America and most of the world. But every day we uncover more about The Bilderberg Group and the World Economic Forums. Their attempts to murder American sovereignty and create a world government. They called me a conspiracy theorist when I said that four out of five mass shootings are false flags perpetrated by our own government to justify the dismantling of the Second Amendment. And on our website right now—TheTruthShouter.com—we've provided the proof. Las Vegas, San Bernardino, all the way back to Sandy Hook."
His words come quickly, growing louder as he gains steam, and when he pauses he practically gasps for air, the effect being that either he's a raving madman or he's willing to use his last breath to bring out the truth.
"Don't believe. Go look it the hell up, people! My motto is—"
"Mr. Futch, that's time." The clock blinks zeroes and Gwen has interrupted him.
"I'm sorry, but no, you let the old man go on, and I—"
"Mr. Futch."
"My motto, for my campaign and for America itself is: Don't defend. Attack. Attack the lies, shout the truth! Get your damn country back! It's what I've fought to do to become the leading voice in true conservative politics, and it's what I'll do as president!"
"Thank you, Mr. Futch." Always the professional, Gwen says this with the same respect she'd show an old lady crossing the street. "Justine Hall, you have three minutes."
Stepping to the podium gracefully, Justine Hall tilts her microphone down and eyes the room. "Those are going to be tough acts to follow," she says, smiling. "My name is Justine Hall and I'm the mayor of Denver, in the great state of Colorado. Borrowing Professor Axum's formulation, I'd say I fall on the side of equality more often than not, but I'm sure the questions will allow me to explain where I stand on many of the issues of the day. I want to take this opportunity to introduce myself to you all."
The timid woman from the early videos is gone. She's been well coached or she's found a genuine place of comfort from which to speak. "My mother was a nurse for thirty years in the suburbs outside Denver. My father was the first black POTUS. No, not the President Of The United States. The professional wrestler, POTUS, the Legal Eagle."
She's used this opening line before, and it's a good one because it grabs everyone's attention while introducing her background and making the audience laugh at the same time.
"That's right. My dad wrestled for fourteen years and is a three-time MWA champion. That's Midwest Wrestling Alliance for those of you who never got a chance to see him drop his patented Elbow of Justice from the top rope."
Another round of laughter from the audience shows that Justine Hall has read the crowd perfectly. The people in the room are serious Ameritocracy fans, and probably already know where she stands politically. She's using her time to get them to like her.
"From an early age," she continues, raising her voice, "my calling was the church, the church my mother went to dutifully and, occasionally, dragged my father to. In our neighborhood, the church was the one place everyone got along, where white folks and black folks came together, and where a little half-Japanese, half-Black girl could feel at home. I grew up there and planned to attend seminary after high school.
"But when my dad returned home with a broken tailbone after one suplex too many, I opted to stay in Denver, attend community college, and work with the homeless and drug-addicted. I became a minister in the Unitarian church, and I was able to help lots of folks who needed help. I know I haven't got the Reverend Dixon's style—who does?—but I believe he and I have had a lot of the same experiences ministering to people going through bad times.
"Like Mr. Axum and, I assume, Mr. Futch as well, I never intended to go into politics. I ran for mayor of Denver because I wanted to bring practical solutions to real problems, and to do so unencumbered by the expectations of large donors or special interest groups. Look at my record and I believe you will agree that we've succeeded in Denver.
"Give me the chance, and I'll do the same for America. Truth is, I'm more of a doer than a talker, unlike some of the men who went before me, so I'll just say this: I believe in getting things done. You can have the purest motives or the highest ideals, but none of it means a thing if you can't get things done." There's a light smattering of applause at that, even when Gwen shoots the audience a stern look.
"Thank you, Ms. Hall," Gwen says smoothly. "Reverend Dixon, you have the floor."
Dixon rises, adjusts his jacket, and steps to the podium. He looks over the crowd with a practiced eye, and opens up in full voice. "It's an honor and a privilege to be here addressing all of you, and I thank the Lord every day for the life I've been given, and the opportunities I have to change lives in His service. But the Lord didn't do it all on His own! I am—we should all be—deeply grateful to Ms. Mia Rhodes for her vision, her hard work, and everything she's done to make this day happen!"
Despite Gwen's admonition, another round of applause starts, this one growing louder and louder, shaking the room. All eyes shift toward me and I can feel my face redden. I smile broadly, uncontrollably, fighting back tears.
Gwen steps forward to cut off the applause, but Dixon gives her his disarming grin, a grin that says hey, just let it go, the audience needs this. A man in the crowd shouts, "Thank you, Mia," and I burst into tears, still smiling like I've just won the presidential election myself. All of a sudden, the other nine candidates stand and begin clapping.
Even a few of the journalists are clapping now, and the moment hits me.
Hits me so hard I can't breathe.
As the thunderous echo of genuine gratitude fills the hall, I realize that these people aren't just fans of the candidates or the site. They're fans of me. They think I did something amazing, something they believe in and want to be part of.
Me. The office manager who adopts cats by accident and has struggled through the last four months, barely able to keep her head above water. They think I'm a hero.
As the applause dies down and eyes shift back to the stage, I'm beaming.
Dixon continues, voice rising and falling hypnotically. "This rally here today should have been impossible. A real alternative to the two-party system? No such thing, we've been told! Can't be done, we've been told! And yet, look around you, here we are! So we need to start changing our minds about what is and is not possible!
"Now, I don't know if you've heard, but I happen to be a Christian." That gets a decent laugh, and he lets it fade before he continues. "That means I believe in the greatest miracle in history: that God Almighty came to earth and walked among us as a man. That He came to bring us His greatest gift: the unconditional love and forgiveness that is His, and that can be ours. And how did we respond to that gift?" His voice falls, low and serious and dripping with pain. "We stoned Him. We whipped Him. And we crucified Him.
"That day two thousand years ago showed us the basic conflict that still defines us today. The spirit of God that dwells in us cries out for that love and that forgiveness. And our fallen nature tells us to hate, to fear, to torture and kill. We all face that choice every day, in a hundred ways, between what's right and what's wrong. And it sure doesn't help when every crazy du
de with a website claims he's got God on his side!"
Another laugh, more nervous this time. Dixon's laying bare a lot of people's fears. "God, though, made it very clear whose side he's on. When He came to earth, He was not born as a king, as a soldier, as a rich man. He came to us as a poor child in a small corner of a vast and oppressive empire. That is who God wanted us to listen to, to care about. The forgotten, the poor, the helpless children. He told us again and again, 'what you do unto the least of my children, you have done unto Me!' Not the greatest, not the richest, the Lord tells us He is to be found among the least!
"Every day in my ministry, I see cruelty and neglect toward those people of God. I see men and women languishing in prison unjustly, people trapped in poverty without hope, people tortured and killed for no reason, because not enough has changed in two thousand years! And people ask me, Reverend, how can this be? How can a rich nation tolerate such poverty? How can a free nation keep so many in chains? How can politicians wear a cross on their lapel and still vote to torture and kill their own people? I tell them the same thing: because that nature within us has not changed, and a nation willing to kill a child in the womb is willing to do anything."
The thirty-second warning flashes, and his eyes flicker to it for an instant. "We know, deep within us, what is right and what is wrong. We all hear the voice of God in our innermost souls. And if we choose, as a people, to let that voice guide our actions, we can bring His love, His mercy, His forgiveness, and His Kingdom to this nation! Thank you. Thank you all for taking the time to listen, and may your best conscience guide you when you vote."
Much of the audience applauds as Dixon takes his seat and Gwen Winters moves back to the microphone. Charles Blass is up next, but I'm beginning to tune out.
I haven't seen much here that I haven't already seen in their videos or position papers. For me, the important thing about this event isn't the speeches.
I don't agree with half of what's being said on stage. I don't know if one of the ten candidates in front of me will become president, but for the first time in a long time I feel satisfied.
