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Taft 2012 - Jason Heller [67]

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songs about Taft’s allegedly legendary sexual exploits and the “piss-poor quality” of the veggie dogs the park had been serving all day. // Click for more.

The Taft 2012 Convention Daily—Friday

Delegate Spotlight: Why Taft, Why Now?


RAFAEL DELGADO, LOUISIANA: “When Taft was the governor general of the Philippines after the Philippine-American War, he refused to use the U.S. military to put down the Filipinos who kept resisting the occupation; instead, he trusted the local law officers to take care of it and gave them the support they needed. And it worked! Does that sound like a guy who’d, I don’t know, say, get American forces stuck in Iraq for a decade? Because it doesn’t to me. Taft 2012 all the way.”


CHELSEA PENNYPACKER, CALIFORNIA: “He doesn’t try to make stuff sound good for TV. He just talks. He doesn’t care about getting good press, but he also doesn’t try to shut the press out, and he doesn’t waste time arguing with them. I can’t remember the last time I saw a candidate who used so many polysyllabic words in the same press conference. Taft isn’t afraid to be smart, but he also never sounds condescending.”


MARIA JONES, MICHIGAN: “His first year in office, I guess, President Taft stuck his neck out to fire Teddy Roosevelt’s favorite forestry officials when they couldn’t get their act together and figure out how to work with the new bosses. I know at the time that Taft caught a lot of flak for it from the environmentalists, but I still like the fact that he cared enough to investigate the whole thing himself, instead of just accepting whatever either side told him. That reassures me that I could trust Taft to do what’s right about the whole global-warming thing, because I know I sure can’t figure out which scientists to listen to.”


HERB YOUTIE, FLORIDA: “I’m a Republican because my father was a Republican, which means he would have voted for Taft in 1912. This is probably going to be the last election I’m around for, so I’m voting for Taft in 2012. Seems like the right thing to do.”

Excerpts From Remote Surveillance Log, Great American Ball Park, Ground Floor, Men’s Restroom 3, Urinals 7 and 8


Saturday, June 16, 12:56 p.m.

—There’s still one thing I’m not totally sure about, though: Taft’s stand on immigration.

—Yeah, I’ll agree with you there. Seems like it’s not his main focus. I sure know what I wish he would do about immigration, though.

—What’s that?

—Just open the damn borders and charge money for citizenship.

—You’re not serious?

—As a heart attack. Look, we waste how many billions of dollars trying to stop people from coming here? What’s the point? I’m not even trying to get idealistic about it. I know America was built on immigration and all that, but that’s not the point. I’m just being practical. If you can pay, you can come here. If you get caught without your receipt, you work it off until you can.

—Right. Like washing dishes if you can’t pay your bill at the diner.

—Exactly.

—I’m truly impressed. I can’t honestly tell if that’s racist or not.

—See, that’s why Taft is the man to do this. He was around before racism even existed, right? So he’s in the clear.

—Um, I gotta go wash my hands.


Saturday, June 16, 3:49 p.m.

—I don’t know if I can take another damn speech. Know what? Taft should outlaw political speeches. I mean it. Fuck ’em. Just a bunch of hot air. [Subject eructates.]

—Yeah, well, I don’t know if I can take another one of those shitty plastic cups of Fulsom Lite. What do they brew that stuff with? Dishwater?

—Actually, I think you’re looking at it.

TWENTY-EIGHT


“Why, Taft, old man, you’re looking positively svelte.”

The man who stood in the hotel hallway outside Taft’s suite, speaking from around the back of Kowalczyk’s shoulder, was tall, gray haired, and patrician, his flawlessly tailored suit accentuating the sharp lines of his nose and chin. Taft had never seen him before, though he knew the type: wealthy Northeasterners who wouldn’t dream of carrying their pocket cash with anything other than solid-gold money clips.

“Wouldn’t give me his name,

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