You're Fired.

Once upon a time, I was super invested in politics. Not in a particularly active way - I didn't put in any real volunteer time for campaigns, or try to intern at a local representative's office or anything - but in the way a very, very casual sports fan might follow his or her favorite team, especially towards the end of the season. In 2000, when I was in sixth grade, I watched Bush accuse Gore of utilizing "fuzzy numbers" in their first debate and cried when the final Florida recount came through.

These were some really rough times, guys.

In 2004, I walked around the Upper West Side of Manhattan and took in my fellow liberals' somber, downcast stares. In 2008, I phone banked a bit for Obama and read Nate Silver religiously and had nightmares that Sarah Palin allowed polar bears to frolic on the White House lawn.

But somewhere between "hope and change!" and Michele Bachmann, I gave up on politics. I even stopped watching the Daily Show. I mean, seriously, things were getting sad.

This all has changed now that Donald Trump has decided to run for president.

I mean, my god. The man has a magic comb over that has DEFIED THE TEST OF TIME. He stamped his name in GIANT GOLD LETTERS all over the Upper West/East/Mid/Whatever side of Manhattan. He created/fronted the The Apprentice, and introduced the ever-charming and not at all insane Omarosa into our lives. And then he created The Celebrity Apprentice. Also, he totally thinks Charlie Sheen is an awesome guy! Or so I've heard.

I mean, really, how could this man not be the leader of the free world some day?

Nothing about this isn't the best thing you've ever seen.

And now he's all convinced that a) Barack Obama wasn't born in America, a debate that absolutely no one gave up on like two years ago, and b) Barack Obama isn't actually intelligent, because, as Elle Woods said about getting into Harvard, "What, like it's hard?" and c) that people think his stylish windswept hair isn't covering up a really unfortunate bald spot at all. Right on the money, Trumpsie. Can I call you that? Well, I'm going to.

I think maybe I'll run for president next year. Seems like the thing to do. I read this book about a twelve year old who ran for president, and things turned out okay for him. Actually, in the end the kid realized that being president really sucks, so he resigned right after coming out of election night triumphant. But he was twelve, and twelve year olds get all angsty and pubescent, so I'd be better for the job anyway. Besides, my kitchen is filled with horrible mice who poop everywhere and I have to clean up after them every morning, that's so like being president, right?

The future's gonna be great, guys.