I Hate Everyone, Except You(36)
RENéE: You’re OK with the one.
ME: Prolly. You know what this country needs?
RENéE: What?
ME: A makeover. I think we’d all be happier if we looked cuter. [laughs] And had some GOO-me bears. When I’m president, I will make America fabulous again.
RENéE: Ah, you want to be president.
ME: Well, it’s obvious I’m the most qualified. To make people fabulous. The dream is real.
RENéE: And what exactly does being fabulous mean in this context, Candidate Kelly?
ME: A chicken in every pot and—what’s that expression?—a car in every garage. A pasture-raised, organic chicken. And an electric car. I’d like it if the chickens were killed really fast and didn’t see it coming, and if the cars were colorful, like in the old days. Just a rainbow of cars, plus pink ones. Pink isn’t in the rainbow, but pink cars are cute. Now all the cars are black and white. Some are red. Did you ever notice that everyone driving a Nissan Maxima is an asshole?
RENéE: Will you mention that on the campaign trail?
ME: I’m not going on the campaign trail. That seems exhausting. And all that food they make you eat. Gross. Do you want to order room service? They do a nice cheese platter here. It comes with quince jelly.
RENéE: Maybe later. We’re on a roll here. Let’s discuss some of your specific policies.
ME: If you insist.
RENéE: Transgendered individuals in restrooms. What are your thoughts on that topic?
ME: To be honest, I don’t know what all the hubbub is about. Does it really matter who’s peeing in the next stall, and whether they’re wearing a ball gown or overalls? I find the whole process so revolting, I just want to get in and out with as little fanfare as possible.
RENéE: But people are concerned about the children. Specifically, little girls using a public restroom with a man.
ME: Why the fuck are you letting your little girl enter a public restroom alone anyway? That’s neglect. Your kids should be interacting with absolutely no one in a public toilet, whether they have a penis, a vagina, both, or neither. Quite frankly, I think we need sweeping change in the way we publicly relieve ourselves. I dream of a future in which public restrooms are gender neutral. Hear me out on this. You enter the restroom, which would have a series of completely private rooms with a hole on the floor. You do your business, a onesie or a twosie into the hole, wipe as necessary, and leave. When you exit, the door closes behind you and the entire room is sprayed down with warm water and a biodegradable disinfectant. So the next person who enters gets a completely clean, odor-free toilet experience. That can happen. If there are people smart enough to make all these goddamn Snapchat filters, someone can figure out a new toilet system.
RENéE: Wouldn’t it be expensive to convert all existing bathrooms to the kind you’ve described?
ME: It’s a jobs program! Someone has to make and install these toilets. Pronounced “toilette,” by the way. And we’ll start with the unemployed. Oh, and I’ll raise taxes. Imagine, for an extra twenty dollars a year, you could be guaranteed a safe, hygienic pee whenever you wanted one.
RENéE: What about your stance on abortion?
ME: This is another thing that’s pissing me off. Nobody wants an abortion. Kind of the way nobody wants to use a public restroom, but multiply that by about a thousand. There would be a shit-ton less abortion if we made it easier to get contraception in this country. I don’t know why there aren’t buckets of free condoms in every classroom in America. Oh, when I’m president, I will institute a Contraception On-Demand program the second I am sworn in.
RENéE: Can you explain what you mean by Contraception On-Demand?
ME: Drones. Contraception is delivered to your front door whenever you want it. Have a hot date? Tap a button on your phone, and—bam—a box of condoms, spermicidal jelly, sponges, whatever you want. It’s at your front door. And if you made a mistake last night, tap an icon on the screen of your phone—I guess you’d need the geo-location function turned on—and in five minutes you could literally be showered with morning-after pills, like Skittles. Taste the rainbow and flush out that zygote you created six hours ago before it turns into anything.
RENéE: That seems like a lot of pills just lying around on the sidewalk.
ME: Well, maybe we could use small drones, like the size of hummingbirds, that drop a single pill right into your hand. Or we could train actual hummingbirds. Wouldn’t that be cute?
RENéE: What about men? It seems like the onus is on women here.
ME: Oh, hell, no. I want to incentivize men to have vasectomies. Reversible ones, of course. You come to the local hospital. Snip snip, no charge. When you’re ready to responsibly procreate, we sew your vas deferens right back up again. Nobody’s inconvenienced.
RENéE: What’s the incentive?
ME: A guarantee of no child support payments. And we can throw in a free pizza with all the toppings. Oh my God, how awesome would pizza be right now?
RENéE: I can’t see a male-dominated Congress passing any of these laws.
ME: Me either. That’s why my second slogan is, “Don’t be a dick, Vote with your vagina.” I don’t know why women aren’t furious that they’re not at least 50 percent of the House and Senate. And there should be more gays in there, too, now that I think about it. Let’s put more homos in da House! The parties will be much better. And slim-leg pants. What is with the old dudes still shopping at Men’s Wearhouse? Even Paul Ryan. I don’t like him, but he’s kind of good-looking. The jackets are too long. The pants are all big and baggy. I don’t like it. I did like his beard, when he had it.