If we hadn’t been afraid of all those things, FDR never would have gotten elected.
JFK said, “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” That’s worse than nonsensical, it’s wrong. National service may be an obligation during periods of extreme crisis. But the early 1960s wasn’t one—until Kennedy made it so by bungling the Cuban missile crisis. Nations exist to serve people. People do not exist to serve nations.
So I won’t listen to the inaugural address. I mean, I’ll watch it on TV. Like any good reporter I’ve got to at least pretend to keep my eye on current events, especially in case the event is Trump getting reinaugurated and he cuts an enormous word fart or Chief Justice Roberts uses the Bible to swat him instead of swear him in. But otherwise I won’t really be paying attention.
Instead, I’ll be polishing an alternative speech, an inaugural address I’d like to hear a president deliver.
It will go something like this.
My fellow Americans. I want to thank the people who voted for me. I also want to thank the people who voted against me. Democracy is meaningless if it doesn’t result from a meaningful competition between ideas—the way the college football National Championship would have been meaningless if the top-ranked college team had played the tailgaters in the Hard Rock Stadium parking lot.
Furthermore, I want to thank the people who didn’t vote. There’s no shame in not voting. In fact, if a voter is unfamiliar with the issues and uniformed about the candidates, not voting is the right thing to do. It’s a wise person who admits his or her ignorance. Over the next four years I promise that I frequently will be admitting my ignorance to you.
Also, a person who doesn’t vote is reminding us all that there’s a lot more more to America than its government.
And there’s more to America’s government than the person who’s the head of it. In fact, it may be that America has been giving too much power and privilege to the person who is the head of its government.
I’m the new president. But I am only an individual. And we are a nation of laws, not men and women.
Because we are a country guided by rules instead of by personalities, I’ve been reading the rule book. I’ve been studying the Constitution of the United States of America.
I intend to play by the rules. I’m the president, but you the people own this country. You are the stockholders. Your elected representatives in Congress are the board of directors. And the chairman of the board is, again, you the people. I just work here.
In the Constitution, the president of the United States isn’t even mentioned until Section 3 of Article I. And the only reason that he’s mentioned there is to explain how Congress can impeach him.
Actually, the vice president is mentioned before the president is. That’s because the vice president holds the office of president of the Senate where he has a tie-breaking vote.
Article I, Section 1, of the Constitution says, “All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States.” To judge by that, our Founding Fathers were more concerned with what goes on in the House and the Senate than what goes on in the White House. Which, incidentally, they didn’t bother to build until 1800.
The Constitution doesn’t get around to listing the powers of the president until Article II, Sections 2 and 3, and the list is only four paragraphs long.
I’m commander in chief of the military. But in Article I, Section 8, the Constitution says Congress has the power to “declare War,” to “make Rules concerning Captures on Land and Water” and to “raise and support Armies.” So I guess what “commander in chief” really means is that, when the marines yell “Gung ho!” and charge, I’m supposed to go first.
I’m not looking forward to this part of the job because I’m a little concerned that the huge Secret Service motorcade with all the flashing blue lights that follows me everywhere I go will attract enemy fire.
Some people think the president is in charge of America’s foreign policy. I don’t know where they got that idea.
Yes, I’m allowed to make treaties but only “by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate.” And two-thirds of the Senate has to agree to the treaty. Two-thirds of the Senate can’t agree on what they had for lunch in the Senate dining room.
And notice that while the Senate has the “consent” thing covered—senators love to vote on stuff—they tend to come up short on the “advice” part. The only advice a president gets from a senator is, “You should help me raise funds for my reelection campaign.”
By the way, if you’d like a little advice and consent of my own, I’d advise you to consent to be more careful about who you elect to the Senate and the House of Representatives. We’ve got some real nut buckets up on Capitol Hill.
Anyway, as I was saying, I also get to appoint my ambassadors, my cabinet, and, when the occasion arises, Supreme Court justices. Unless, of course, the Senate advises me that they won’t consent.
I have the “Power to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offenses against the United States.” Although, by custom, my major campaign donors won’t get out of jail until the very end of my second term.
But I can fix my teenage son’s speeding tickets—if he’s careful to do his speeding only inside the District of Columbia and not go over to Virginia and get arrested for speeding under a state law.
However, that huge Secret Service motorcade usually has traffic tied up in the District. So I’m afraid the kid won’t get
