It's August 4th which makes today a very special day for a certain Democratic candidate. That's right, Barack Obama turns forty seven today, and I call shenanigans. Why, you ask?  Well it's pretty clear, my friends, that Barack is staging this whole "celebration" to try and snag some of my magic.

Getting older, Barack? Very original. We both know where you got that from. It's obvious that you've seen my cunning strategy of aging before the public eye and you want some of this for yourself. Well I'll tell you this, the American People know who the real aging candidate in this election is. 

So happy God damn birthday, Barack Obama. Just know that you're never going to get to my level of ancient. Well, you probably will. You're a politician with fantastic security people and you're in good shape.  But by the time you get there, I'll be even older. Or dead.

Booya!

Jeez Barack, is there a world leader you haven't met this week? I've been busy too -- seeing influential people in THIS country. And not just because I'm an isolationist with designs to build a 30-foot fortress around the country (and a sweet moat!). It's cause this America first outlook is giving me lots of momentum (McCainentum?) in pivotal swing states.

While you've broken pita with a litany of smelly foreigners, I've sat down with these important AMERICANS:

Ronald McDonald: It's not all smiles and happy meals over on Burgler Boulevard. Imagine a world where the dollar menu has to be raised to $1.50 or -- gasp -- $2.00. This will not happen on my watch, and I'm willing to offer the billion-dollar company subsidies to ensure no misnomer with that popular menu occurs. It is already happening in our airports people! 

The President of the United Steelworkers of America. To be honest I did this just so I could pad the resume of important-sounding people meetings. He was really boring and wouldn't let me try out a blow torch, so I spent the whole meeting fantasizing about having blow torches for arms.

So as you've probably heard, The Times rejected my editorial on Iraq, a week after publishing Barack's. I'm sure you expect this to trigger my pulsing, white-hot rage and to throw out words like "biased", "unethical" and "wouldn't use their paper to wipe my ass if all the toilet paper in the world mysteriously disappeared."

But instead I will calmly lay out the argument I tried to make for the Times:

Barack is wrong. If we leave Iraq, America will die. It will be your fault for electing him. Once we die, God -- who is American -- will send you to hell for electing him.

That was just the headline of my editorial. Other salient points that I brought up:

• Withdrawal's don't work. Both of my biological sons and one of my daughters were conceived this way. (We don't call them mistakes. Rather "happy accidents".)
• The quality of life in Iraq is higher than in the States. Remember those images of kids playing soccer in the streets with battles nearby. In the US only the upper class can afford to fuel Dodge Caravans and all those orange slices so these are some pretty well-to-do brats.

Friends, to paraphrase a quote from that bowling documentary, The Big Lebowski, politics is not 'Nam. There are rules, goddamit!

These days, nothing makes sense to me. My aides are always looking at these little doo-dads in their hands and pressing buttons, and when I asked what they were, they lied to me. Blackberries are much smaller and jucier than those things. But more pressingly, Obama is turning this campaign into a circus, but not the fun kind. How? For instance:

He's raising more money than me. Look, I'm not a racist by any means. I fought beside many colored people in 'Nam, and when my mother asked the mayor of Newark to shine her shoes, I told her that was bad. But I'm the old white guy in this race--I'm supposed to have the money! Seriously, $52 million in a month? It's like he has a magic box that allows his supporters to give him money without sending a check through the mail.

People are speculating that a Republican will be his running mate. Look, just so no one gets confused: I'm the Republican candidate! Me! Republicans campaign with Republicans, Democrats with Democrats. What will be next? Men marrying men?

I don't know about you, but I've had enough of people criticizing my military record. Six years as a POW isn't enough for you Wes Clark? You want me to go back on weekends, you little twerp?

So it's time to break out the "n" word in my campaign against Barack "Sadam Hussein" Obama. No, not that one. Not even "nappy-headed". I mean--"nice".

My wife Cindy is way nicer than Michelle Obama. Michelle Obama looks like the woman who tells you, after you've waited for 45 minutes at the Registry of Motor Vehicles, that you're in the wrong line. And it's time for her coffee break. And she doesn't give a flying fuck at a rolling donut what you think when you threaten to complain to her supervisor.

Cindy is worth $100 million because of Budweiser distributorships--and she's totally bitchin'. And she owns part of the Arizona Diamondbacks. And she's all mine. Deal with it.

As I told the National Sheriffs’ Association earlier today, protecting innocent citizens from the scourge of crime is one of the chief responsibilities of our government. But there’s only so much we can do alone. That’s why I’m proposing a radical new approach to crime fighting. I’m installing a bat signal on top of the White House.

It would be the world’s largest bat signal, and it would be visible anywhere in the country, from Washington D.C. to Gotham City to Metropolis to New York to wherever the Wonder Twins live. This bat signal would be a beacon of hope in these troubling times, instilling faith into the minds of the citizenry while striking fear into the hearts of those who answer evil’s call. Especially if it’s cloudy. It works a lot better when it’s cloudy. And mostly at nighttime.

Yes, I "strenuously disagreed" with my aid who said a "fresh terrorist attack" would help my candidacy. For starters since when do we describe terrorist attacks in terms of freshness? Is it a delicious sandwich with boar's head products? No, it's bombing and death and the TERROR!

But moreover, I'm not so sure it would help. It would be a nice thought and all, but in practice ... meh. Yes, a lot of people would be scared. And when people get scared, they turn into Republicans. But others would take a step back and realize the best solution is a transcendence of race and religion and blah blah blah hippie garbage.

What would help my candidacy is the ultimate terrorist attack: the apocalypse! With the lakes of fire, and the garden of Earthly delights (which would probably cause a family values backlash!). Do you know what one of the Horsemen would say to "Barack Obama represents a new kind of politics?" Trick question. He wouldn't say anything. He'd decapitate you with his sword.

Just when I think I’ve got a handle on the current glut of newfangledness in America, I see something in the paper that boggles my mind. I heard on the radio today that stores are starting to sell vinyl records! Jeez Louise! Vinyl records! That’ll be the day! What’s so wrong with the wax cylinders that we’ve been listening to for years? Is there a carnuba shortage or something?

Now, if I know anything about kids it’s that they can’t resist Grandpa when he’s got a pocket full of butterscotch candies, and they love the popular music records. I don’t pretend to speak for every Tom, Dick and Harry down the lane, but when I listen to “Yiddle on your Fiddle” or "When Ragtime Rosie Ragged The Rosary," I don’t want to miss any of the pops, squeaks or small, manageable oil fires that go with it.  Quadraphonic hi-fi crystal clear vinyl? Thanks, but no thanks.

As many of you know, I am the candidate who stands for the values and principles of the past. I served in a war in the past. I was an esteemed statesman in the past. The past is good. So stop talking about the stuff in the past that wasn't good.

There was an article published about my divorce of my first wife. If you've been reading my diary for a while (God knows my sweet mother has, bless her curious heart) you will understand why I took the opportunity to leave Carol, my deformed ex-wife. The divorce I initiated was completely mutual, even though it is clear she still has feelings for me forty years later. And the modern love of my life, sweet Mama McCain, agrees and is happy that I am fabulously wealthy now because I married Cindy.