If only.

If I were President of the United States of America I would...
1. Only run for one term.
This makes my lack of popularity with the public irrelevant. My policies may not be popular, but they'll be right. How's that for egotistical?
2. Eliminate as many superfluous government agencies as possible.
That's right. Regardless of how high unemployment rises. I want those people working for the private sector, not stringing up more red tape.
3. Demolish teachers unions.
It's about time the educators in the United States were held up to the basic standards of merit. You can't teach, you get fired.
4. Make voting mandatory and Gerrymandering illegal.
There wouldn't be a big penalty for not voting, just a fine of $50 or so. But making everyone vote will force the candidates to cater to the center which has been alienated because of the political partisanship. People would need to become educated about political issues.
5. Give a $15,000 grant to anyone majoring in the hard sciences.
Enough of this arts stuff. We need some mathematicians.
6. End all wars waged on foreign soil.
Enough said.
7. Make employment a mandatory part of receiving welfare assistance.
I don't care if they work at the local Burger King. They just have to be employed. Oh, and I would limit unemployment benefits to six months. People would have a chance to apply for an extension, but they would have to provide extensive proof that they had been applying for work.
8. Taser seven-year-olds.
Just kidding. That's just a shout out for Brian Regan.

The Comedy of Washington

I work at the Woodrow Wilson International Center, a living memorial created for the memory of President Woodrow Wilson and his desire to create a bridge between the world of intellectualism and policy making. There are larger-than-life pictures of President Wilson on the windows, marble inscriptions of his words on the walls, bronze castings of his profile, and, to beat them all, a life-size, suit-wearing paper mache effigy lurking around the corner of the third floor elevators. He startles me, staring at me with glass eyes, every morning on my way to my computer cubbyhole. Apparently one of the interns got tired of doing research and resorted to creativity instead. I wonder what kind of professional recommendations that intern got for improving the office decor. I also wonder if the office personnel would appreciate a paper clip sculpture. I confess, I might find that more of a challenge than researching the Liberian constitution.

The secretary at the front desk has a shrunken head exhibit from Korea. She has all kinds of other trinkets in her collection—painted eggs from the Poland, wood carvings from Jerusalem, needle points from Switzerland—but I’m always captivated by the shrunken heads aligned in neat little rows, protected by a shield of framed glass. Her name is Lindsay and she smiles a very cheerful smile every day. I can't help but think, "All the better to eat you with."

There’s a man that sits on the corner of 18^th and H Street every morning and plays a trumpet. He plays in short, staccato spurts, demonstrating prowess with high notes in unexpected intervals. I first heard him play the national anthem on my walk to work and I’ve listened for him every day since. I caught a glimpse of him in a tattered brown coat with a reflectors on the sleeves—probably a coat donated by a construction worker. Sometimes I have to stop and listen to him play those crisp notes in the cold air. So far, Come Thou Fount is my favorite of his songs.

The scholars that I’m working with are both intelligent men and about as different as one would expect, both in aspect and in demeanor. One of them is purely legs. He wears the same pair of jeans to work every day because I don’t think he can find any other pants with legs that are long enough to fit him. Occasionally these pants are accompanied by a button-up shirt and suit coat, just in case he has to appear for an interview on television. After all, the audience only sees the upper half of your body. So he wears a suit on top, and jeans and combat boots on the bottom. Not sure where he got the combat boots but they really look like they’ve been through some combat. The other is a short man, and he rests his hands on his belly when he speaks for any considerable length of time. Whereas the first can only tolerate my presence or my communication for two minute intervals, the second man likes to hear himself talk about as much as possible. This morning he kept me, riveted audience that I was, entertained with a long monologue about how he only deigned to visit Las Vegas when his aunt couldn’t fly on airplanes anymore. I was as confused as you may be about how all this talk of Las Vegas tied into the political situation in the Ivory Coast or land ownership in Liberia, but then, his intelligence surpasses us all. I like him though. He's a cheerful fellow and he has more respect for my intelligence than the first scholar. I think the first scholar is under the impression that I'm suffering from a lack of education over the eighth grade. I intend to address him about it tomorrow and use nothing less than five syllable words. He may not understand what I'm saying, but that will prove my point perfectly.