Opinion: 2020 presidential run starts now

As I have stated a number of times, to be a good modern-day politician, you must be able to apply the theory of exaggeration. To do this, you must falsify your data and claim your moral superiority while declaring the moral worthlessness of your opponent.

If someone has rational points that undermine your position, call them a name and change the subject.

Being somewhat skilled at exaggeration, I felt the time has come for me to take my act on the road to test the waters for a presidential campaign.

Trump has a news station under his thumb and I wanted one, too. I wanted to offer the job to Tom McDonald, my brother and editor of The Communicator in Santa Rosa, but he wrote that he hoped no one would vote for me.

Also, Tom advocates for “truth telling,” which directly contradicts the theory of exaggeration.

My second choice was Alfred E. Newman of Mad Magazine fame, but he did not respond to my requests.

Finally, I found a reporter. I’ll call him Mr. X because he has violated his probation and needs to remain anonymous. Before you get too critical, remember, our president has had a lot of felons work for him, too. Actually, most were convicted of felonies after working for him, and that’s much worse than me making one up.

I decided to start my campaign in Pea Ridge, Arkansas. Yes, this is a real town. In my first interview, Mr. X started by asking me my name.

“I might be the next president and you don’t even know my name!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t yell,” he pleaded. “I’ve got a terrible hangover!”

“Geez, it’s Don McDonald. That last name is spelled just like the hamburger joint.”

“What about the first name, is that D-a-w-n?” he asked.

“No, you idiot. That’s how it would be spelled if I were female, which I’m not. It’s D-o-n,” I barked.

“Is Don short for Donald?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh my God, you’re Donald McDonald,” he said with a laugh. “Do you have a brother named Ronald?”

“Yes.”

He stopped laughing and said, sympathetically, “Why did your parents hate you so much?”

“They didn’t hate me. We were named before the clown was around.”

“Were they upset when the clown was named Ronald?” Mr. X asked.

“Not at all,” I said.

“Yeah, they hate you,” he proclaimed.

“Can we move this interview along?” I growled.

“OK, fine. Now, the town we are going to is spelled P-e-e Ridge, correct?”

“No, it’s spelled P-e-a, as in the vegetable,” I told him.

“Sorry, but I believe you’re wrong on this one,” he declared.

“I am not wrong. I grew up near here and visited their Civil War battleground a number of times. It’s P-e-a Ridge!” I declared.

“Maybe the soldiers all used a certain ridge to, you know …” but before he could finish I shouted, “It was not named for a ridge that people peed off!”

“Then why is there a community named Brightwater so close to it?” he screamed back.

Good point, but I was not about to encourage him. So, I called him names and changed the subject.

“Are you sure you want to start off your campaign in a town named Pea Ridge?” he asked.

“I need a place that people will remember,” I replied.

“Seems to me, it is a symbolic way to say that, if elected, you’re going to urinate over a lot of people,” Mr. X said.

“Hey, it worked in the 2016 elections,” I said.

Don McDonald writes for Community News Exchange. Contact him at:

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