I wasn't planning on doing it. Going in, I felt safer with the white guy. But in line, everyone spontaneously started chanting Barack's name. Then this little cute black kid in line with his mom said he wanted to be a black president when he grew up, and it was just about the cutest thing anyone ever saw. So my emotions were piqued.

But when I got into the voting booth, I started thinking critically about it.

I'm not sure about myself on the economy. Barack makes a good point that as late as September 15th, I said the economy was in good shape. That was wrong. Like hugely, ignorantly wrong.

My friends--what? You've heard me say that too many times? Okay--fine.

My pals--tomorrow the Republican Party will make history, defeating the first Hawaiian-Muslim-African-American presidential candidate. And we'll do it fair and square.

Tonight we're going to give every African-American voter a quart bottle of Colt .45, the malt liquor preferred by black Star Wars actors--like Billy Dee Williams. And every newly-registered young American who's drawn to the polls by the excitement and celebrity of Senator Obama will get a free "joint" or "doobie", which he or she can "Bogart" for a righteous "hit".

It's not enough that I'm trailing in the battleground states of Ohio, Pennsylvania and Florida. But now it's dead even in Arizona!

This is like being an only child and asking your mom if you are her favorite son and having her respond no, she prefers that half black neighbor kid down the street.

What it's four electoral votes or something? Like I even care.

Just try it. Just try voting for Obama and see what happens. That Grand Canyon of ours is nice huh? It would be a shame if someone had to shut it down for maintenance come next summer's tourist season.

Before you start criticizing us about the 150K we allocated for Sarah's wardrobe and appearance, you should know that the money was supposed to go for Sarah's continual education classes. My home state had a great program, Phoenix University -- that Sarah could have taken while on the road.

But there's only so many ways you can dress up a pig before you realize she's a pig. So instead, we invested in more pretty dresses so maybe you'd be distracted by the pig's decent rack for a middle-aged woman instead of thinking about the stupid economy.

Sigh.

This isn't easy to admit, OK. So just let me do this on my own terms. I made a mistake. I really big one.

Another day, another GOP defector going over to the side of "that one". First Christopher Buckley, son of the upper-class Catholic twit who founded National Review. And I should care about that because?

But Colin Powell--now that one sort of hurt. Here was a guy who could have sewed up the Yiddish-speaking Army vets of Caribbean descent demographic, which I desperately need if I'm going to win.

Ha--gotcha! I don't give an ostrich's armpit about Colin Powell, because I've got something better--Snoop Dog!

That's right, Calvin Broadus, the immensely popular rapper, record producer and airport security threat, is poised to endorse me today, in front of a huge crowd of malt liquor and blunt-crazed fans.

Take a deep breath my friends. That refreshing Autumnness in the air means the election is around the corner, and it's time to go dirty with this bitch. If a white man can lose an election because of the adopted Bangladeshi that his wife brought home just so she could have a goddamn anecdote to tell during interviews, then this should be a cakewalk.

Listen I would prefer to run positive ads. But that wouldn't scare the shit out of you.

Do you know what does? Convincing you that Barack Obama is more radical than his best friend William Ayers, more hateful of America than his second best friend Jeremiah Wright and more black than his third best friend this dude:

Folks, you probably heard about this snafu on Wall Street. ("Snafu" is an acronym I picked up in my army days. I won't tell what it means, because children and evangelical Christians may be reading this.) There's a lot of large numbers followed by dollar signs being tossed around, and all of a sudden "Bear Stearns" and "Freddie Mac" are important names. Now, I may not understand all the talk about the "prime rate" or the "compound interest" or what have you (Cindy's the one who takes care of the finances at home), but I know one thing: what we got here is a crisis.

And I'm dang good at handling crisises. Crisises? Is it Crises? What's the plural here? Whatever. I'm dang good at handling them.

That's why I've suspended my campaign until I can solve this country's financial woes. It won't be easy. It could take two, even three weeks. But that's the sacrifice I'm prepared to make. It was a tough decision, a hard call. But when it comes to hard calls, you might say I've written the book.

I'd like to clarify my point that Sarah Palin's foreign policy experience is awesome due to Alaska being so close to Russia.

For instance, she demonstrated tricky political maneuvering in setting up a junior hockey match between Nome, Alaska and Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. What's more, she instituted the now-famous "Books for Vodka" program that keeps Alaskan kids free from the "clear" Russian threat.

Joe Biden? Mr. Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee? It sounds to me like those multi-syllabic words strung together for no apparent reason is an overcompensation for something. Probably his tiny tiny foreign policy acumen.

In fact I'll share with you my real VP short list, chosen of course for their geographical location:

1. Larry Bonderud, mayor of Shelby, Montana: A mere 40 miles from Canada, Larry's been our front line diplomat, keeping us safe from those dirty Canucks and their shitty Labatt Blue pilsner.

Friends, many moons ago I wrote to you about my choices for Vice-President (pronounced "veep"). Since then, I have considered many candidates for the job, and received many nice fruit baskets. Although Mitt forgot that I do not like pomegranates. I don't trust anything with that many seeds.

After much deliberation and a good long talk with Mother, I've picked Sarah Palin, a hockey mom from Alaska who also happens to be a governor. People are asking me, "Why her?" and "Is she experienced enough?" and to those people I say: Who are you? How did you get my phone number? But to you blog readers, I will gladly explain myself. Why her? Here's why:

1. She is only 44, which means she will be able to help me figure out how to set the time on my goddam wristwatch.