Christopher Moore's Blog

So, as you all probably know, the Governor of New Jersey is stepping down due to the fact that he likes guys. You know, more than most people, I mean.

Thing is, even democrats want him to resign before November 15th,so a new election can be held and a new governor installed for the next four (or six, I’m not sure) years.

Problem is, the dems want to run John Corizine, the ex-investment banker senator from the Garden State.

Problem is, Corizine, despite that he won the office by throwing tons of his own money at it, has actually turned out to be a pretty good senator who has seats on several powerful committees, and we can ill-afford to lose a good Democratic senator right now.

Solution?

Governor Gay Guy resigns, and for governor we run…

That’s right:

Bruce Springsteen.

Like he would even have to campaign. There he’d be, governor of one of the more powerful and populace states in the union.

One, maybe two terms as an incredibly popular governor, and…

That’s right:

The President of the United State of America, The Leader of the Free World, Bruce Springsteen.

First hundred days: Born to Run is made the national anthem. Clarence Clemens is made the head of FEMA (that’s right, the Master of Disaster), Miami Steve is made secretary of Heath and Human Services, Bono becomes ambassador to the UN (under the conditon that he never wear racketball goggles unless he’s actually playing fucking raquetball), and the first lady is a hot redhead who plays guitar.

Yes, it’s true, there was a time, when as a drive-time DJ, I tried to rally a campaign to have Springsteen retroactively killed in a plane crash right after the Darkness on the Edge of Town album. For that, I am deeply sorry. (But dude, he was going through this whiny Roy Orbison/Woody Guthrie phase and something needed to be done. Those were desperate times, as are these.)

All I’m saying is, at every baseball game, someone has to get up and sing Born to Run. At some point, Celine Dion will have to sing the words, “Baby this town rips the bones from your back, it’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap.” How can that be a bad thing?

State of the Union Address? Introduction by vice president John Stewart. Maybe fifteen minutes of, “Hey, we got your back.” Then, “My fellow Amercans, the state of the union is… WE ROCK!” the Boss rocks the capitol for three hours, Bonnie and Jackson singing back-up, Republicans and Democrats wave lighters in the air, united, 535 points of light, like a starmap in a primative planetarium, and they sing along:

“And the poets down here they don’t write nothin’ at all, they just stand back and let it all be…”

The Boss abides. Amen.