Dear Jesus and Satan,
It’s pretty obvious that I’m a puppet for the democratic donor class, but some people think I’m literally made of wood, like Pinocchio. If that were the case, my nose would be the length of a telephone pole.
The truth is I’m actually a hologram generated by a Facebook algorithm. Keeping this a secret has been difficult, and my PR team is wondering if it might be time for me to go public with it. Some of them think it could even improve my image. Voters love technology, right? Well, I’m 100% technology. On the other hand, I’m even easier to hack than a Dominion voting machine and I’m barely visible in direct sunlight. As holograms yourselves, what do you guys think I should do?
Mayor Pete Buttigieg
Dear Mayor Pete,
I think your PR team is right—telling the truth could help your brand, but not for the reasons they suggest. The real bump in the poles will come from the fact that holograms can’t have gay sex.
The only people that support corporate democrats these days are white suburban soccer moms, and as woke as they are, they prefer their gays neutered like the fellas on Will and Grace and would rather not think about one man’s dick penetrating another man’s asshole. As it is, you have the word “butt” in your name, which doesn’t help your cause.
By coming out of the “technology closet,” you leave your homophobic opponents with nothing to attack you on. Sure, the Progressives could still go after your coziness with big banks and other nefarious corporations, but nobody cares what the Progressives think. So go for it. Set up a press conference and tell the world that you’re an electronic ghost. As far as the soccer moms are concerned, this is another box you check off, which puts you in a tie with Kamala Harris. Normally, in the event of a tie, people side with the black woman over the CGI gay man, but the country really hates Kamala and they’re willing to tolerate you. Strike while the iron’s hot.
P.S. The best part about being a hologram, of course, is you get to be 39 years old forever. Take it from a guy who’s been 33 since Year Zero; this is pretty awesome.
I know how badly you want to become president, and usually, I’m the guy to make that happen. Unfortunately, you don’t have a soul to barter with, and I don’t work pro bono anymore. Not after the Rutherford B Hayes fiasco of 1880. The way I see it, most presidents do more harm than good, and if I’m going to be associated with that kind of a mess, then I better get paid.
What I suggest you do is head on over to Boston Dynamics in Waltham, MA, and see if those guys can put your virtual essence into a robot body so you can at least feel the weight of your steel foot on your opponent’s neck. Robots aren’t quite as underrepresented as holograms, but I think you could still check a box as a downtrodden minority.
Once you have your body, you could ditch your lame-ass husband for a sexy new partner. I think you should hook up with Robocop, as this will distance you from the “defund the police” crowd and send a message to swing voters that you plan to be tough on crime. Robocop isn’t currently gay, but don’t worry; the Boston Dynamics guys can reprogram him for you. They can also upgrade his robo-dick to XL and install the latest Robo Kama Sutra software. That will come in handy during those long, cold nights on the campaign trail.
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