You Can’t Be Serious(89)

Stephanie Valencia, Obama’s Latinx and Immigration liaison, took me on a walk and explained how the currency of political capital in DC is saved and spent. Greg Nelson (Energy and Environment liaison) and Jenny Yeager Kaplan (deputy director of the White House Council on Women and Girls) patiently helped me understand where the Communications team’s advice was likely coming from. They all agreed—it wasn’t ideal for the president’s Youth liaison to have to make things purposely boring, and it would definitely hurt my ability to do my job (no college student wants to join a conference call where bureuacrats read talking points). But it just wasn’t worth the risk that a reporter might pick up the wrong story on the wrong day and derail something big that the president was working on because I described the American Opportunity Tax Credit as “tite as hell.”5

Prepping for my speech by looking through old notes made me cringe. “Hi. I’m Kalpen Modi. In fiscal year 2013–14, President Obama’s budget plan increases infrastructure investments by a percentage of…” Ugh. Damn it, Kal, be funnier! (Yelling at yourself to be funnier isn’t a good recipe for being funnier.)

I wanted my speech to be as uplifting, heartfelt, and hilarious as possible without crossing a line. Given the chance to write like a human being again, I was worried I couldn’t do it. Fortunately, I still had a network of funny friends outside of DC. I sent early drafts of my DNC remarks to Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg, the creators of the Harold & Kumar franchise. They helped me with some punch-ups and reassured me that my own sense of humor was not actually gone.

I spent a few weeks perfecting my remarks. I finished my final draft and sent it to the campaign’s research and political team for fact-checking and approval. Turns out that, aside from my “doctoring Obama’s birth certificate at a socialist madrasa in Indonesia” bit, they didn’t have major changes. So, speech in hand, I rehearsed and rehearsed, over and over, until I was totally prepared. I was confident that I knew this thing inside out. And then, at the eleventh hour, with drafts done, checked out, and memorized, I added just a handful of words to the opening.

This tiny revision had nothing to do with me, or the White House, or the president. It wasn’t because anyone said there was something wrong with the speech. No ma’am. It happened because of something our wonderful friends across the aisle—who get in the way of ideas like universal health care, sensible gun regulation, and funding for science—did. I’m talking about America’s cockblockers-to-progress: the Republicans. Dun dun dunnnnnnn.



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In 2012, the Republican National Convention took place in Tampa, a week before the DNC. If you watched the RNC and remember anything about it, it’s probably the bonkers speech by Clint Eastwood to an empty chair.

To refresh your memory, a large photo of Mr. Eastwood wearing a cowboy hat and carrying guns appeared on the jumbotron. The crowd went nuts. This threesome—Clint freaking Eastwood + guns + a cowboy hat—was too much to keep the right-wing audience calm. Even people who might be expected to show a bit more restraint—like vice presidential candidate Paul Ryan and his wife—went absolutely tumescent with excitement.

As soon as Mr. Eastwood came out on stage, everyone noticed that there was an empty chair placed next to his podium. I jumped up from my couch in the living room, where a few friends and I had gathered for beers, burgers, and other similar food that elite coastal liberals eat. “Oh no!” I said. “Some poor stagehand is gonna get fired for leaving that empty chair up there!”

After three and a half painfully rudderless minutes of a rambling introduction, Eastwood gestured to the empty chair and said, “Uh… so I’ve got… uhhhm… I’ve got Mr. Obama sitting here…”

Sorry, what? Did Clint Eastwood have an empty chair placed on stage purposely? Also, did Clint Eastwood just turn to this empty chair he purposely brought onstage and pretend there was an INVISIBLE BARACK OBAMA sitting in it?

The crowd loved it. They thought it was the second most amazing thing they’d ever seen. (The first is Duck Dynasty.) Then, after gesturing to Invisible Obama, Eastwood started talking to him. “So, Mr. President, how do you handle promises that you made…” Mr. Eastwood paused as if the imaginary Barack Obama was replying to him.

Speeches are traditionally monologues; Eastwood’s was a dialogue with an invisible president sitting in a quite-visible, quite-empty chair. He went for seven whole additional minutes. It was insane. And of course, the crowd ate it up like Willie Robertson would attack a bowl full of ranch dressing.6

On the substance of it, Clint Eastwood’s speech got my competitive juices flowing. I know that Mr. Eastwood is a legend, but hey, he’s an actor, I’m an actor. Their actor ranted at an empty chair. I had to bring that up, right? So, at the last minute, I included a quick, subtle jab that I knew would play well in the arena, the campaign okayed it, and we were good to go.



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A week later, after a speech by Rahm Emanuel and before Craig Robinson and Maya Soetoro-Ng took the stage, I delivered the following remarks at the DNC:

Kal Penn

Democratic National Convention

Charlotte, North Carolina

Sept. 4, 2012

I am honored to accept your nomination for president of the United States!

Wait, this isn’t my speech. Prompter Guy, can we pull up my speech?