Paul

Ibrahim

Read Paul's bio and previous columns

January 14, 2008

The Candidates: The All-American Family

The Candidates are a wonderful suburban family made up of Daddy Thompson, Mommy Hillary, and their school-aged children Edwards, Giuliani, Huckabee, Hunter, Kucinich, McCain, Obama, Paul and Romney. Since the Candidates set a truly commendable example for the average American family, we can only learn from observing one of their typical evenings:

Little Obama walks into the kitchen, where Mommy Hillary is busy cooking, Giuliani is playing SimCity on his laptop and Edwards is watching TV.

Obama: Mommy can I go play outside with Paul and Kucinich?

Mommy Hillary: No honey, it’s almost time for dinner. Besides, I don’t even know what they’re doing, all I know is they grabbed the tinfoil and ran out with it. Why don’t you just watch some TV with Edwards until they get back?

Obama: Oh, fine.

Obama sits down next to Edwards.

Obama: What? Extreme Makeover again? I’m so sick of this, Edwards, change the channel. Change it! CHANGE it now!

Mommy Hillary: Shhhh, keep it down boys, Daddy’s napping. Edwards, you’ve already had a chance to watch TV, it’s time you hand over the remote to Obama.

Edwards, stomping his feet: That’s not fair not fair not fair! It’s like there are two families in this house, one for the privileged kids and one for the victimized children like me!

Daddy Thompson walks into the kitchen, awakened by Edwards’s cries for justice. At the same time, Kucinich runs in through the backdoor, with Paul right behind him, both wearing tinfoil hats.

Kucinich: Mommy! Daddy! I just saw a UFO!

Paul: No Kucinich, I already told you that was a neocon drone!

Giuliani: I really can’t decide which one of you is a bigger idiot. Why didn’t Mommy just abort you both?

Mommy Hillary: Hey hey come on now, kids. And how many times do I have to tell you to stop wearing those silly tinfoil hats? You already know the neighbors won’t let their kids play with you because of that.

Paul: Well if you hadn’t disagreed with them at the Homeowners Association meeting, maybe they wouldn’t be that mean to us!

Daddy Thompson: Uh-huh. Son, don’t you think you need to cut down on those video games and get out a little more?

Mommy Hillary: Yeah! Maybe your friends will stop picking on you if you find yourself a nice little girlfriend like Kucinich did.

Paul: Girls? Eeeeewwww!!

After taking 15 minutes to assemble, the Candidate family finally gathers in the dining room for a yummy dinner.

Huckabee: Ooh can I say grace? Pleeease?

Mommy Hillary: Sure, honey, go ahead. I don’t have my notes on me anyway.

Huckabee: Bless us, O Baptist Lord, and…

Romney, closing his eyes and ears: la la la la la LA LA LA LA LA

Obama: Yeah, we always do the same prayer! That means we need to change it.

Daddy Thompson: OK, Obama, what prayer would you like to propose?

Obama: Just change it to something like . . . different.

Mommy Hillary: OK, enough of this, kids. Romney, what would you like in your plate?

Romney: Burgers. Or, actually, hotdogs. No, pizza! Soup.

Daddy Thompson: How many times do I have to tell you to be consistent, son?

Huckabee: I’ll take soup too, pizza’s got way too many calories.

A cell phone rings, with the “New York, New York” ring tone interrupting the conversation.

Giuliani: Hello?

A piercing, excruciating, almost devilish sound is emitted from the cell phone.

Giuliani: Oh, hey Dean, what’s up buddy? I’m in the middle of dinner right now, but I can talk.

Daddy Thompson: No you can’t. I already told you yesterday, no talking on the phone during dinner. Give me that.

Daddy Thompson puts Giuliani’s cell phone away, and the family begins eating. At one point, when Huckabee looks away, a bitter Romney peppers Huckabee’s soup like it’s his business.

Huckabee: huckACHOO!!!!!

Everybody laughs.

Huckabee: God bless me.

Edwards: Oh MoveOn outta here Huckabee, everyone knows that God doesn’t bless ugly people!

Romney: High five to that, Edwards!

McCain: Hey if you two were manly enough to get into scuffles like me, then maybe you would manage to look a bit more like boys than girls.

Mommy Hillary: McCain, be nice or you’ll get timeout in the basement.

McCain: I don’t care! I’ll stay there years if I have to!

Romney: This soup is terrible! I didn’t want this anyway, I said I wanted chicken!

Daddy Thompson: Alright I’ve had enough of this, Romney. Go take a timeout in the bathroom upstairs. And tell your brother Hunter to come down.

Romney: We have another brother named Hunter?

Daddy Thompson: Sort of. Anyway I grounded him because he beat up the Chinese kids down the street when he heard they were selling cheaper lemonade than him.

A sad Romney heads upstairs, but before he goes to the bathroom, manages to sneak in his new hand-held Monopoly console. Hunter joins the family halfway through dinner, but still manages to finish before everyone else.

Mommy Hillary: OK, it’s time for dessert! Who wants pie?

All the children, raising their hands: Me! Me! Me! Me!

Daddy Thompson: Hands down, kids, everyone will get a piece.

Mommy Hillary, as she dishes out the pie, with a tear in her eye: I just hope there’s enough left for me . . .

Click here to talk to our writers and editors about this column and others in our discussion forum.

To e-mail feedback about this column, click here. If you enjoy this writer's work, please contact your local newspapers editors and ask them to carry it.