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This Week In Weird Twitter, Volume 127

By: Rich Cromwell
11 min read
U.S. Army photo by Staff Sgt. Paige Behringer

He swept his right arm across hall, looked me in the eye, and said three little words that every benevolent ruler wants to hear: ‘We’re commanding them.’

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Rich Cromwell
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It came to me in a dream. No, scratch that. It came to me in a hallucinatory state. As the skies melted and the smell of patchouli and Red Stripe enveloped me, I forgot where I was. Then I remembered. It was a parking lot and it was time to go inside and stand with the crowd. I was a true man of the people, standing amongst them, sharing a cosmic moment. There’s a chance that part was also a hallucination, but it doesn’t matter, for a revelation came to me.

Although I was a man of the people, I was not meant to stand amongst them, smelling their foul alternatives to deodorant. I was to be something more. It was when my friend grabbed me and told me to turn around, to look at the mass of people standing behind us that it hit me.

He swept his right arm across hall, looked me in the eye, and said those three little words that every aspiring despot benevolent ruler wants to hear: “We’re commanding them.”

There was no denying the veracity of his statement. I was born to be in it. I just had to bide my time and wait, devising nefarious schemes and overly complicated plots for when the time came. Well, the time is now and I’m here to serve you, to help you help me. The challenges we face are not the greatest in living memory, like it’s not even close. As such, one person can easily meet them on his own, especially if that person is me.

Let’s do this, America. I’m gonna be the best commander you’ve ever seen, and it’s going to be funky. On this, you have my word.


I also promise a return to normalcy.


It’s true I’ve had my missteps.


And a few scandals, though I can explain.


As to some threats, I’m not sure I’ve been doing a good enough job to match them with the urgency and clarity that they deserve.


There’s also the fact that the rubber chicken circuit requires me to be less than authentic.


I mean seriously. The societal conventions I must adhere to in the run-up to the convention can be brutal.


While I promise to keep it funky, I also promise to reach out to all voters, including those who love bluegrass.


What if I told you there were a rally you could attend instead? It will also include a plea for money, but without the confines of buying something with said money. It’s really a better way to spend your time and also your money.


Much like someone who just turned 30 in “Logan’s Run,” I was made for this.


But also, stop thinking about yourselves. That’s not how this iteration of teamwork works.


Okay, sorry. Please forgive that momentary lapse of reason in which I decided to tell the truth.


Doing things like speaking the truth, and not my poll numbers, are why I had to restart this campaign. I’ve learned, though, and hired a new campaign manager.


Though I’m not sure my new manager, Rocket II, is all that. For example, he cautioned me against admitting this.


He also cautioned against saying this, but I’m keeping it real. This isn’t about the playbook, it’s about authenticity. Heavily scripted authenticity.


But also risk-taking.


And fancy plans.


With pants to match.


I am able to stay on-message when the situation calls for it. I may not always have a Teleprompter, but don’t worry, I have a back-up plan.


And an ability to play the crowd.


Plus I’m just like you.


Even as I know in my soul that I’m better than you.


But, if you vote for me, I can get you on my level.


I can also get on your level, assuming it’s meandering jam band, funk, bluegrass, or tunes from the greatest decade.


Some modern pop is also acceptable.


Just don’t ask me to stay up too late, like until 3am.


Because the thing is…


And I’m down with all things ‘80s, aka the Golden Era.


I’m against whoever is causing those and will mobilize the garbage men of America to fight them.


Again, though, I’m better than you, so get in line.


Like, seriously, if you want representation, you need to earn it.


Noted.


Though on the other hand.


Have I mentioned I’m a man of the people?


Challenge accepted, other man of the people.


Because we speak American here.


Though if need be, I can take the form of my nemesis.


As the situation often requires such shapeshifting to be necessary.


And to remind you that you’ve been impotent in the face of disaster.


But also to remind you that I do have a track record of victory.


Also to remind you what the White House needs.


And what America needs.


Though I’m not afraid to take difficult positions.


Will it be hard work? Yes. Am I prepared for that? You have no idea.


Because I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, especially if there’s a roadside sign involved.


I will wash my hands, though.


Still unconvinced? There’s more!


Because I will not kowtow.


I really won’t kowtow.


And I’ll make sure not to be around too much.


For nothing matters. (Secondary slogan: Eat Arby’s.)


Well, some things matter.


Like the art of the burn.


And my dedication to running. Always running, faster and faster, like someone in “Logan’s Run” who just turned 30.


But prepared-like, as is my wont.


Things were looking bleak, emphasis on “were.” Now, though, things are still looking bleak, but I persist. For I know very clearly what it is that I have to do, and the urgency with which I feel it, to quote my muse. On the other hand, even if this restart doesn’t pan out, we’ve established that I’m an opportunist. As such, there will always be perks.

Richard Cromwell is a writer and senior contributor at The Federalist. He lives in Northwest Arkansas with his wife, three daughters, and two crazy dogs. Co-host of the podcast Coffee & Cochon, you can find him on Facebook and Twitter, though you should probably avoid using social media.

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