I Accept

My Fellow Mammalians,

I stand here tonight to accept your nomination. It is an honor and a privilege. You have helped me find my happy place.

When we set out on this journey six long days ago, we didn't expect the obstacles that were thrown in our path. Swiss physicists trying to blow up the world. Unfair questions about whether sentience alone is sufficient preparation for high office. A very late night at a Dandy Warhols concert.

We also didn't expect the help we received from unexpected quarters. The pint of blood a supporter mailed from eastern Montana. The contribution from the storekeeper who foolishly left his cash register unattended. The unsolicited campaign slogans from Friends of Befouled.

We certainly didn't expect that unpleasant video to show up on YouTube. Fortunately the American people understand the meaning of "consent" and we were able to quickly put that behind us.

But that is the past. It is time to look to the future.

And a glorious future it can be. You already know our platform. What does that platform mean for you, though, the average voter, the person none of us really cares about?

It means five dollars in your pocket for every hobo you bring to the polling place on Election Day.

It means Snickers and patty melts for our senior citizens.

It means having an advocate in your corner, an advocate who will fight for you with a ferocity veering dangerously close to psychosis.

It means periwinkle helicopters that smell of lavender.

It means a higher grade of bituminous.

It means conjugating "frumpy."

And, of course, it means a moose in every pot.

There are some, including my opponent, who will try to tell you it is impossible to deliver this cornucopia of delights. Perhaps it is impossible, in the syphilitic opium den in which he chooses to spend his time. Out here in the real America, though, we know how to Git R Done. And Git R Done we shall.

Can we put a monkey on Jupiter?

We'll Git R Done!

Can we weaponize bursitis?

We'll Git R Done!

Can we provide every hardworking American with a pre-paid calling card?

We'll Git R Done!

Can we break the stranglehold the isopropyl cartel has on our economy?

We'll Git R Done!

Can we add a moonfaced calf named Ploopy to Mt. Rushmore?

We'll Git R Done!

But I can't Git R Done by myself. I need your help. More specifically, I need your money. I need your currency, your change, your credit cards, your animal pelts. With your help, your money, we will defeat fear, we will defeat entropy, we will defeat the defeatists and the appeasers and the mordants and the mods and the mopes and we will rebuild America! In the immortal words of George Washington, we will once again make the most of the hemp seed!

Ladies, gentlemen, thank you!