The grandstand chronicles

Should I decide to run against Trump in 2020 (and I realize it will require an amendment to the United States Constitution), I have my campaign strategy mapped out. Like Trump’s in ’16, it will anchor upon a slogan: “Make America Christian again.”

As I am allergic to baseball caps — double allergic when they are worn backwards — perhaps something more like straw boaters to emblazon this upon, plus the odd tricorne (beaver fur by preference). And pretty bonnets for the ladies.

There will be short and long versions of my slogan. The longer form: “Make America Christian again and, you know, rural.”

Too, there will be secular litanies, or “bring-backs,” so named because each line begins, “Bring back,” … followed by whatever comes to mind. Examples: “Bring back deep-dish apple pie,” or, “Bring back hand-set hot metal type,” or, “Bring back cabriolets and fargons,” or, “Bring back Franco.”

Assuming he has the guts to run for re-election — and I wouldn’t put anything past him — Trump will be excoriated as a liberal and progressive, a communist and a capitalist running dog. Except, I am thinking my vice-presidential nominee should be a running dog. A ferocious one, who will double as my security. A fox-hunting Jack Russell perhaps, or one of those killer poodles trained by the French Foreign Legion.

And a goose. No, no, gentle reader: not a gander, and most certainly not a gosling, but a full-fledged, thoughtful and courageous Barnacle Goose. It will be the symbol of my gallant Regressive Party: the steadfast goose, on guard against any sort of innovation.

I have other policies in mind, but will save them until closer to the election.