I am aware that we are about to enter another race for the White House in this country. Without any assistance from mass media, I know this. I am an American and thusly I know when it’s time for the election calendar to roll around.

Also, I have always wanted to say “thusly” in a public forum.

The worst thing about this era of our political season is the flood of unvetted information on our presidential candidates. Most of it lies. In my retirement, I am on a voluntary hiatus from TV. Thusly, I have avoided the campaign ads that are designed to suck the joy out of my life and force me into a dark hole of depression.

But I do check my mailbox every day. The flyers have not started arriving yet, but I know they are coming. Most of them will be hate mail, the kind which, if I wrote and sent out similar uncharitable venom, I would be considered the lowest and most wretched man alive.

I dread the plague of campaign season. Dirt piled upon dirt to no good end.

This is the reason I have decided to announce my candidacy for the White House. It has occurred to me that I have neglected my patriotic duty long enough. So it is with a deep love of country that I am placing my name on the upcoming ballot.

I confess that I have never held any public office of any kind. I was never a class president. I have not been a city councilman. I have never clerked for a judicial court. I couldn’t even get the role as lead sheep in the Christmas play. My resume is lacking.

I did eat BBQ and shoot over a dove field during a state campaign fundraiser one time where the candidate sang the national anthem. So, I have seen how this works.

My main qualification for President is that I meet the minimum requirements for the office. I am a naturally born citizen of the United States. I have been a resident of this country for way more than the stipulated 14 years. And I am nearly double the minimum age of 35.

This has been and continues to be the test of presidential fitness since GW took office in 1789. Which explains why we have a long history of having so many unqualified, qualified candidates for the Oval Office.

You may not know this, but my research is extensive. In a period of over 25 years, since the 1980 campaign, we had between 250 and 480 people who ran for President in each of those election years. Who knew? In 2016 the number of registered presidential candidates jumped to 1700. In 2020 it was almost 1200.

I tell you this simply to note that I will be among the unknown candidates of this upcoming election. I do not anticipate that I will appear on national TV. I will not be printing any flyers that will crowd your mailbox. I do not anticipate that I will have a campaign office, nor will you see any of my signs posted along the county ditches and roadside telephone poles.

This alone tells you something of my character. I will not be making any public promises on camera that I cannot keep. I will not be making crude statements about another person, true or not, for the sole purpose of making them look worse than me. And if I had the money to print a zillion useless flyers and signs, I would feel personally responsible for cleaning up my mess once the election was over. I have picked up other people’s trash for a living and I hate litterbugs with a passion.

Rest assured that my campaign will be free of front-page slander. My fellow candidates would have a hard time digging up any scandalous dirt worthy of a senate investigation. But, in case they should look, let me just go ahead and lay out for you the stories they might find.

I leave the seat up. I keep leftovers in the fridge until they turn fuzzy before I throw them away. I shot an innocent Bluejay once with my BB gun when I was 12. I felt terrible. I looked at a girly magazine once that we found in the dugout at the ballfield in Hampton. I broke my eyeglasses on purpose one time. I cheated on a 9th grade science test and got caught. I could tell more.

But just think of all the things they won’t find. The only foreign relations I have are a handful of people that I’ve met in the mountains of Oaxaca and on the plains of Zimbabwe. I have absolutely no funds supplied by interest groups that want to buy my loyalty. I have, however, had a long and consistent practice of deleting unwanted emails, which could raise a few eyebrows if they start looking into my history with Best Buy.

A good campaign, however, must have a positive side to it. What can I offer the American people should I be elected as POTUS?

Ice cream. By executive order, I would insist that every meeting, national and foreign, should be held with a bowl of homemade peach ice cream at every seat. I would hire an ice cream chef for my White House kitchen staff. Airforce One would have backup ice cream churns. World leaders would smile. Party leaders would unify. Global peace would become a reality

Never underestimate the power of ice cream. No one can be mad while eating Cookies and Cream. Ice cream would, in my opinion, change the look of politicians everywhere. It is impossible to scowl with the taste of Moose Tracks in your mouth.

Imagine an interview on the Capital steps where every reporter has a cup of Strawberry ice cream. Pralines and cream could possibly change the entire course of the world market. Trade opens up. Give everybody an orange sherbet push-up and the negotiations go through without a hitch.

Have the Saudis ever tasted ice cream? Churns for everybody and the price of oil plummets.

In my America, Wall Street gets mint chocolate chip. The Pentagon gets butter pecan. The joint Chiefs of Staff get Neapolitan. The UN gets salted caramel. Congress gets French Vanilla because that may be about as close to foreign policy as they need to get.

As President, I would push a world-wide initiative called GICS, Global Ice Cream Strategies. This plan encourages the European Leadership Network to meet over Raspberry Ripple. The Asian Coalition will be sent shipping containers of Matcha Green Tea, not that it appeals to me, but I hear it’s the rage.

I know what you’re thinking. No one will vote for a guy who runs on a platform of melted ice cream. America has real problems. We need real leaders with real solutions.

You might be right. But we’ve tried real leaders. I’m pretty sure we haven’t tried ice cream.

Besides, my cousin’s third-cousin-once-removed on his mam’s side of the family ran for class president at his school on a similar platform. Banana Splits for everyone.

He won by a landslide.