I'm going to be the best Secretary of State of all-time. Under my watch, I promise to make the world quit terrorism cold turkey. And I mean zero attacks. No car bombings, no hotel bombings. I'm taking this John Jay style.

Under the first US Secretary of State, the world saw absolutely no dirty bombs or coordinated fundamentalist Islamic attacks. How did Jay do it? I've been studying his books. And it appears he did it with a strict diet of isolationism and a burgeoning naval presence that soon pushed for control of the Atlantic.  

Sure under Jay, the US experienced more canon-related deaths and a 180,000% more scalping incidents were reported than in 2008, but I'm confident I can keep those numbers low. Maybe not 2008 totals but still lower than 1789. 

For those of you wondering why it's taking so long to seal the SOS deal, here's why:

Does anyone see what's happening here? Obama is star-obsessed. It's like he's trying to create the Dream Team cabinet. He's Jordan. Biden is his Barkley -- a free-speaking, gambling buddy.

I'm Pippen. Supposedly we're loyal teammates, but in actually we both harbor a strong disdain for each other that we must put aside for the greater good: mercy-ruling Angola.

And think about the others he's considering for posts. Bill Richardson: Big-bodied, often bearded, from the West. Can you say Karl Malone?

Then there's John Kerry. Once heavily-touted, but now he sucks balls. Whiter than Christmas. Um...Christian Laettner!!

I'm the keynote speaker at the Convention tonight. And I'd be remiss if I didn't seize this opportunity to subvert Obama in subtle, passive-aggressive ways. Here are some I'm considering:

1. Make a plea for unity to my disgruntled supporters. But do this with a contradictory, sly grin that says "please continue to stroke my petty ego."

2. Continue the Reverend Jesse Jackson's flesh wound analogy ...

“Yes, there’s some wounds. Yes, there’s some scabs. But sometimes, underneath a scab, there’s a little bit of pus, but we have to put some disinfectant on it so we that can heal the wound and move forward. That’s what the convention is about.”

And other times decay and cell death can occur -- turning everything black and malodorous before an appendage is ultimately severed.

3. Instead of reading my prepared speech, read a letter to Penthouse. Use my sexy voice.

When I make the announcement on Saturday, it will surely go down as one of the most anticipated concessions of all time. But it isn't my style to go into anything without first doing meticulous research then boring everyone to death with the minutia. Here are some of the other great surrenders of all-time which I plan to riff off this weekend:

General Lee at Appomattox: Lee arrived to the famed peace accord in a brand new, perfectly-pressed suit accessorized with the elegant sword given to him by the Virginia Commonwealth. Grant, on the other hand, was wearing "a rough travel suit" that made him feel undignified in comparison.

So despite my $20 million of debt, I'm going to splurge on the Cristal of lady suits: A Christine Dior double-breasted worsted wool with 14-karat diamond buttons. Retail value: $95,000. For a weapon accessory, I'm thinking my mini pepper spray can that can hook into a belt loop.

I'm ready to concede. Concede that there's no possible way to kill a Clinton. Whether it's a sex scandal, correct mathematics or a garlic-coated, silver-tipped stake through the heart. Last night I said:

"It’s been a long campaign, and I will be making no decisions tonight."

Of course that statement did not include the decision to make no decisions. But if we dwell on technicalities like that, no one would have gotten through 20 minutes of Donnie Darko.

I really wish I had specified that the no decisions was just about dropping out of the race.

• When we played Tina Turner's "Simply the Best" I wasn't able to decide if I should go with my conservative clap in place move or the more provocative bump and grind shimmy. The result was an awkward middle ground - clap and grind.
• We went out for a bite, Howard Wolfson suggested this place called Taco Mayhem and I didn't say anything even though I had Mexican the night before.
• Bill took advantage. It was like he found a genie. Had any of you guys ever heard of the barnyard blitz? Yeah me neither. I think he made it up.

There are some crazy rumors flying around that Barack and I have had "formal talks" about a joint ticket. This is simply untrue. If anything our talks should be characterized as "smug" with an air so tension-heavy, it's like a Mexican stand-off between God and Satan, but instead of guns they are holding detonation devices to trigger nuclear bombs. Also, that son of a bitch never wears a tie, so I think the most you can call anything he does is business casual.

After an awkward two-minute conversation about the weather (I think he even started talking about jet streams), I finally made my demands.  Here they are:

• After four years, we do a little ticket switcheroo and I run for your re-election.
• We split up the work load. You take agriculture, transportation and black issues. And I'll take health care, education, social security reform, foreign policy, domestic policy, international waters policy, and any other policies that should arise.
• We continue to debate after you're in office. This will create a healthy amount of openness between us and the American people. It will also give me a public forum to tell you how you're screwing things up.

After consulting some outside sources (Geraldine Ferraro), it appears I got more screwed by sexism than Barack did by racism. Probably because I lost. But just for kicks, I thought I'd recount my top 10 most sexist moments on the trail:

10. The Obama Bro’s before Ho’s t-shirts. It’s not that I think this age-old mantra is misogynistic; it’s more that I question its accuracy. You put any ho between two bros and that chicka will have those dudes clawing at each other’s eyeballs if she so much as smiles or makes eye contact with one of them. It’s called pussy power. It’s very real and very powerful.

9. Speaking of shirts, the heckler who yelled “Iron my shirt” at my stump speech. The shirt was indeed very wrinkly. After I pressed them out for him, that bastard put the shirt back on carelessly and created more creases!

8. My financial troubles. People are saying that I’m in the red 21 million because I’m a woman who can’t manage a checkbook! Please. I’m in this much debt because of my stubborn refusal to quit. This stems from my need for approval which is rooted in latent daddy issues.

7. Barack playing "99 Problems" at a primary victory party. OK, I'm actually not that pissed about this one because Jay-Z is a personal favorite and I thought it was kind of funny. I'll give him credit for not playing "Soldier Boy" -- which recounts a debase sexual act involving a cape and garden tools as far as I can tell. 

6. The media referring to me as Hillary and every other candidate by his surname. This chauvinistic exercise trivializes my message and my campaign, but I think I have a compromise solution. We’ll all just go by our middle names. So from here on out I’ll respond to Diane. And Barack – what’s his middle name again? Oh that’s right -- Hussein.

Did you hear the big proclamation I made today in Kentucky? I declared:

"This is nowhere near over."

Of course I wasn't talking directly about the campaign, but rather my far-fetched mathematical justifications for staying in the race. First I included the disqualified states of Michigan an Florida in my delegate count. Then I argued that I had the highest popular vote total in the history of primaries. And after that, I reminded everyone that Barack is black.

Then today I brought back a retro term: electoral votes. Remember those? They're sort of like delegates, but they have this funny little tendency to never elect a city-born, smooth-talking elitist.

I made a calculation that I'm leading the hypothetical future electoral vote count if you discount McCain and also if you discount states such as Alaska, Nebraska, Utah, Idaho and Kansas that voted for Barack but haven't gone Democratic in the modern political era.

You may be asking yourself what kind of wacky mathematicians do I have working for my campaign. If you guessed Stephen Hawking, you're right. Well Hawking in conjunction with a team of Kindergärtners. The Kindergärtners come up with the theories and Stephen fits them into the proper mathematical framework. Here are some other proofs they are working on:

-- Theory of exponentials: Being elected president is like becoming Daddy of the whole country!