Watch on TV as that young punk Obama gets sworn in. They call me senile but he can't even get the oath right. Throw my glass of Metamucil at the screen.
Al Gore called again wanting to commiserate over election loss. Boy, I hope I'm not that bitter eight years from now. Ask Cindy to order caller ID for our phone.
Enjoy a break from work to watch my Cardinals in the Super Bowl. Looks like the Arizona curse of Barry Goldwater condemned them to defeat, too.
Place a call to Sarah Palin to wish her Happy Valentine's Day. Figure that's the least I can do for all her hard work on my campaign. Get recorded message asking for donations for Palin for President in 2012 and saying that the next Republican campaign will be run right. Bitch.
Cindy issues ultimatum: either I stop moping around the house in bathrobe all day or she'll cut off my weekly allowance. Her words hit me like a cold splash of water. Stop watching C-SPAN in hopes of finding ongoing election recounts.
Cindy suggests that I start doing my share of the housework since my Senate duties don't seem too onerous. Vow to start waking up before noon and to pick up my underwear off the floor.
John Kerry calls to provide emotional support but instead gives thirty-minute monologue on why he should have won in 2004. Afterwards, give Cindy hell for not ordering caller ID yet.
Bored silly. To pass time, make prank calls to Queen Elizabeth and ask if she's got Prince Charles in a can. When she replies curtly "Who is this?", I tell her she better let him out and quickly hang up. Consider calling back and asking for Harry Butz.
Return home to find message from President Obama on my voicemail asking for my support in getting passage of his legislative agenda. Feel energized and ready to dive into the political fray once more until I hear the message ending with: "Thank you, Joe; I know I can always count on your support."
Cindy brings me my morning copy of The Washington Post. Delighted to see front page story suggesting two-thirds of voters would now choose me over Obama. About to call RNC headquarters to explore possible 2012 run when Cindy yells: "April Fool's!" and informs me she downloaded mock front page from the Internet. We share a laugh and I retire to my room to cry.
Thank God for caller ID. George Bush called but no way I was going to talk to that bozo. He left a message inviting me to Dallas and saying he hoped there were no hard feelings. Idiot.
Days turn into weeks; weeks turn into months. Cindy shows me how to access e-mail and "surf the Web" but I'm already tired of visiting the AARP site. On the bright side, I seem to be catching on to Minesweeper and Bookworm.
Start phoning potential 2012 presidential candidates to see if they'd like my advice and support. No one answers. Cindy says everyone has caller ID these days. Darn.