The Nugget Newspaper - News and Opinion from Sisters, Oregon

Thank God. I’m not too old to run for president.

Even though yesterday I had trouble remembering which seven pills I needed to take. The day before, I couldn’t find my car keys. A week ago, it took a while to find that car in the Costco parking lot. 

But that could happen to anyone, and the Constitution does not prohibit me from running just because I forget how to spell “doddering.”

I’m younger than either of the two men currently running for president, so I might be a viable candidate. But let’s get real. My garage looks messier than Biden’s, and my laundry room is not as luxurious as Trump’s. 

And that’s without any top secret files in either one.

Some have accused me of stashing those top secret files under the 55 year-old Corvette in my shop, but I can assure you, that’s not the case. I don’t know what case that is under the Corvette, and I can’t say where the top secret case might have ended up, but that’s not it.

But I could remember the nuclear codes if I had to. Just like with my passwords, I’d make them the same as as my birthday, which gets further away every year! Wait, is it further or farther? And if I count back from my current age to the year I was born, is that how old I am? Is the zero in the year 2000 a positive number?

If asked to say what year a significant event occurred in my life, I can answer, give or take 10 percent. The year my daughters were born? Sure. Let me count back from their current age, which is … hang on … I don’t want to ask them, not again … what do you do with the zero in the year 2000? Is 1998 25 years ago or 27?

I can remember my social security number without looking it up, but on occasion I do get it confused with my 10 digit phone number. Which has more digits, but only at the end. Or is it in the middle? And many of the digits in each are the same, so it’s not my fault! They’re easily confused! 

But I’m not confused, except maybe when asked questions I think are irrelevant and then I start thinking about why someone is asking those questions and whether I’ve had lunch and if I’d prefer a cheeseburger or a Philly cheese steak. Sometimes I can be slow to answer, because then I have to wonder if I want pickles and whether a Philly burger even comes with fries.

Obviously, I’m not too old to run for president.

I don’t have anger management issues, either. Well, sometimes I get a little cheesed off when the referees don’t call an obvious foul on the other team, or if I’m asked personal questions, or if the yolk on my eggs is broken before they hit the hash browns. But I don’t say anything, because I didn’t ask for cheese in the first place.

I certainly don’t throw tomato ketchup on the walls. Which makes me at least stable, if not ingenious. I leave tomato ketchup where it belongs, on the table, because I never learned that trick of getting it out of the bottle with a knife. Or was it a fork? Is a tomato a fruit or a vegetable?

And, my health is great! If you ignore a few things that have come up recently, or if I ignore them and don’t tell anyone, it’s like they never happened! Like with that Secretary of Defense, or was it chairperson of the chiefs of joint staff? I don’t blame her for not wanting to disclose her prostate surgery. It’s embarrassing, and private. Nobody’s business!

So, I’m not too old to run for president. I just don’t want to. I have enough on my plate with eggs and pickles. But if called, I will serve.

Obviously, because if America can’t find a better qualified candidate than those we have now, I suppose I’m up for the job.