The Kachina Round Table prides itself on its apolitical reputation. Our motto might well be, “Give ’em all hell, Harry.”
That said, we find ourselves in an unusual quandary. One of our own has thrown his proverbial hat in the presidential ring. (This quaint phrase was coined in the days when gentlemen still wore hats while attending boxing matches and, perhaps, bullfights.) I speak, of course, of Mr. Ab Ennis, the sole candidate for the nomination of the aborning Dead Rights Party and one of the most popular denizens of this den of iniquity. (This quaint phrase, now obsolete, refers to the Hôtel Adiós Watering Hole; it should be understood that the only public iniquities performed in this so-called den are smoking, drinking, taking the Lord’s name in vain, and fibbing the hell out of the truth.)
Thus we are pleased to cautiously but firmly wish Mr. Ennis lightspeed in his long-shot bid for the highest office in the land.
This is not a tepid endorsement. Nor is it made with tongue in cheek. There would be substantial advantages in having Mr. Ennis in the White House, many of them arising from the indisputable fact that he is dead, cremated, and presently flaunting a robotic apparatus.
One advantage, but certainly not the least, is that he has made no promises to powerful interest groups. His sole promise, to inaugurate a constitutional amendment to extend suffrage to dead Americans and talking parrots over the age of eighteen, was made to a constituency that can offer him nothing but heartfelt thanks and, later, votes. He would therefore be the first president since Honest Abe not to break his promises.
A second advantage is that he would not require Secret Service protection, thereby saving the taxpayers and their children’s children a substantial sum. The reasoning here is that the purpose of such protection is to prevent assassination. Logic dictates that it is impossible to kill a dead person. Logic also dictates that it is nearly impossible to kill a dead, cremated but robotized person.
A slighter advantage is that the food bill at the White House would be radically diminished. Mr. Ennis is no longer married, has no children living at home, and subsists on an occasional teaspoon of anise-laced rotgut or, on Sunday afternoons, a fine Appalachian whiskey or its equivalent. One must admit that the apparatus with which he is equipped to allow him movement and speech runs on batteries. But, we hasten to add, these sources of energy are rechargeable.
The crowning reason for our hearty endorsement is that Ab Ennis is an original thinker, as anyone who reads his material or listens to him talk, sing, or otherwise communicate must acknowledge. There is every reason to believe that he will surround himself with others of his ilk—his firm offer of the office of candidate for vice-president on the Dead Rights ticket to Mr. Orville Slack the Fourth stands as evidence of that. We can only hope that Mr. Slack will do his duty and accept this bold offer.
Give ’em hell, Ab! Offer yourself, Orville!