Don't let the door hit you on your way out

Hi everybody, this is Jessica Alba speaking - as you probably know, I'm Paul Burns's running-mate in the 2008 U.S. presidential election. With so much going on in the world of politics right now, I want to take this opportunity to say a few words regarding our present situation. I'm not putting any words in Paul Burns's mouth here - this is all me. Because, for me, this has sort of gotten personal.

To my supporters and fans: thank you. Your encouragement means everything. To the undecided voters of America: think carefully. Resist the temptation to make a quick choice. Your decision in November will shake the foundations of the world. To my rivals, Senators John McCain and Barack Obama: congratulations on making it this far. You've both persevered through some very difficult odds.

And to Hillary Rodham Clinton:

I could drop you like a ton of bricks.

I don't just mean that I could beat you in a fight, although please be assured that if it came to that, if I had the pleasure of being forced into actual fisticuffs with you, the backside of your sweet little Easter-yellow pantsuit would have my footprint ingrained into its sleek exterior eight separate times before you hit the floor. No, what I'm asserting here is something a little more fundamental; I'm better than you. From one female vice-presidential-hopeful to another, I make this claim; I make it without reservation or doubt; today, this Thursday, June 5 of 2008, I, Jessica Marie Alba, hereby assert as a matter of public record that I am demonstrably superior to you in every measurable way.

Let's review.

I'm better than you at acting. Which is surprising, since I've only been acting since 1994, whereas you've had your entire life to fine-tune that funny little balancing game you play. Granted, I'm no Charlton Heston, but at least I make an effort. But you - that smarmy way you call "friend" the man you've consistently eviscerated at every opportunity for the past six months? It's like you're not even trying. Hillary, the first rule of drama is that you yourself have to believe in what you're saying. If not, how can your audience?

I'm better than you at logic. Yes, I play a character who purports to make herself invisible because of exposure to cosmic rays. You, however, by all appearances actually believe you should be awarded delegates from a contest in which your opponent's name wasn't even on the ballot; you honestly don't see the irony in claiming all obstacles to your ascension are rooted in sexism. Here, I'll spell it out for you. Deciding that men must hate you because you're a woman and not because of your complete inability to function as a human being? Yeah, that's sexist. Honey, I'm not expecting the Socratic Method from you, but space out your contradictions over more than one sentence - it's just good etiquette.

I'm better than you at math. After high school, I attended the Atlantic Theater Company; you went to Yale. So why is it me and not you who understands that if one person has 13,355,209 of something (votes, for example) and the other person only has 12,638,123 of that something, the second person isn't the one who has more? Oh, wait, maybe you're confused - you can't count votes from the states that you said don't matter. If you wanted every vote to count, maybe you should've thought of that before you started losing, hm?

I'm better than you at economics. I know exactly nothing about economics. What's the only thing worse than that? Knowing exactly nothing about economics, and then coming up with an economic plan that every single economist alive says is a bad idea. Bonus tip: try not to say things like "I'm not going to throw my lot in with economists." Dear? Sweetie? They're economists. It is their entire f***ing job. And when every single one of them tells you the exact same thing at the exact same time, and you still don't listen, it means you don't know what your own job actually is.

I'm better than you at handling my own finances. Probably connected to the "better at economics" thing. Sure, my campaign is flat broke. But twenty million dollars in debt? Nah, I'll leave that one for you. I've learned that much by now - no matter how low I set the bar, you still find a way to sliiiide on underneath.

I'm better than you at ethics. I refuse to appear nude in any of my films; this is something I decided a long time ago, and I've stuck to it ever since. And while it may not be much of a principle, it is, in fact, a principle. For future reference, a principle is when you do something because you feel it's right, even if it's not popular, and - here's the kicker - even if it doesn't benefit you personally. It's...sorry, I can tell you're distracted; we'll move on.

I'm better than you at judgment. Fighting on against impossible odds for a noble purpose makes you a hero. Insisting you're winning when you're too far behind even to catch up - I believe the term for that is "whiny little girl." Similarly, conceding once it's apparent you can no longer win - that would be gracefeul. Conceding when 90% of your advisors finally convince you that the big number is bigger than the small number? That means you passed remedial math. Congratulations, you're on to third grade; this means you can now, officially, stop being a whiny little girl.

And finally - and I think this is the one that must really sting - I'm better than you at politics. You thought you had it all figured out, didn't you? It was a simple formula; find out what the crowd wants to hear, and give it to them in the purest form you can muster. It doesn't even have to make sense; nobody will call you out on it but the media, and you can just say they're biased. And it was going pretty well. But then a remarkable thing happened - people started catching on to your bullshit. When you fed them that line about your gas tax holiday, people knew you were pandering. When you invented nonexistent issues to be outraged about, people booed you. How perplexing that must have been! "But I'm pandering," you thought. "Doesn't that always work?"

Well, apparently not. At this moment, my campaign actually, truly, no-joke for real has a higher chance than yours of making its candidate President of the United States. Because my candidate is the only one who is left actually running.

Oh, and one other thing. Guess what, bitch? I'm hotter, too.



(Sorry - didn't mean any of that to sound bitter. I'm not angry, really. I'm just, you know - disenfranchised. Funny how that works.)

Be sure to tune in again tomorrow, when Paul Burns is going to talk about kittens.