And The Winner Is . . .

Well, by now it's morning in America again. Whether the sun's coming up a Republican or a Democrat is hard for us to know here at Sojourners, since we're in that awkward election-year deadline when we write the stuff in October and you receive your copy a day after November 3. It's the lame duck column, a tough one to write since my timely, hard-hitting political commentary and the other dumb stuff may be out-of-date.

I could take a chance, of course, and pick a winner (Clinton, in overtime, by a field goal), but if I were wrong I might look bad. (Wait a minute. I look bad anyway. I've been wearing this same drab cardigan to the office every day for the last month. My favorite pastime is looking older than I really am. In high school, I was the only member of Future Senior Citizens.)

Of course, there's no possibility that Clinton will be president, what with all the criminal acts of his youth. At press time it had just been revealed that Clinton once spoke to a priest about peace. He also--and this is heinous--actually TRAVELED TO THE SOVIET UNION AS A TOURIST! Incredible.

But if George Bush is re-elected, he would probably enact the free trade agreement. And that would be bad news for some of us at Sojourners since the magazine would quickly move its operations to Mexico (cheaper art directors).

If Ross Perot is elected then the trains will soon be running on time, which is good, but down-home clichés will become the vernacular norm, which is bad. ("I pledge allegiance to the flag, because if you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen, of the United States of America, where the chickens have come home to roost, and to the Republic for which it stands up and gets counted, one big, beautiful nation under God, indivisible, or else that dog won't hunt, with liberty and justice for all who roll up their sleeves right now, right here, and put their noses to the grindstone if we're going to see this thing through clear to the sunny side of the cow pasture.")

Maybe I should speculate about the candidates' lives after the election. A defeated Ross Perot will return to his empire and continue his businesses, his philanthropy, his eavesdropping on employees. George Bush, if he fails to win, will of course return to his family's ancestral home in Houston (Room 204 at the Marriott). Dan Quayle will return to Indiana where, free at last from the negative media scrutiny that has dogged his every misstep, free from the pressures of high public office, free at last to be his own man in his own way, he will immediately put his foot in his mouth again! Hey, it's a gift.

Maybe, in this awkward in-between time, I could just run a chapter from my upcoming book on community, When Small Groups Happen To Good People. Or I could print some of the notes I'm saving for my children when they become Adult Children of Humor Columnists. ("He was always there for us, Doctor," one will say, twitching involuntarily, her eyes staring blankly into space. "But the constant joking at dinner was so...so sophomoric.")

Or maybe I should just personalize the state of this nation by drawing comparisons between the economy and the fact that this morning I was bitten again by the hamster (a hamster inexplicably named "Precious"), and I sure hope I don't AAARGH!DROOL!-ROARACK get rabies.

Or maybe, instead of writing a column this month I can just sit here and harass people using the nearby copier. Oh, here comes somebody now...it's Brigitte, one of our interns. "Hey look, it's the Brigster. Making copies. The Brigmeister. Gettin' perturbed at me. Scowl city, the scowlster, walking away abrubtly...and here comes somebody else. Look, it's Jim Rice, the Riceman, the Tallster, thinks he's a swimmer...the strokester. Makin' copies. Looks tense and busy. Mr. Hurry, the Rushman. Slow down and smell the roses, Mr. I'm-Too-Overworked-To-Say-Hi-To-The-Ed. Uh oh. Out of paper. Inconvenience City. Baron von Bummer. Ooh, he's ticked now. Mr."Where's-The . . .

Ed Spivey Jr. is art director of Sojourners.