A primer for the POTUS in all of us

In retrospect it all turned out fine.

We’re now four years, a caucus, and a primary into the second-greatest reality show of all time: the 2016 Race for the White House. Debates have played out more Barnum & Bailey than Beltway, and campaigns have–for the most part–predictably surged and crashed in waves of blather and bombast. A wild ride through known-knowns, known-unknowns, and unknown-unknowns is building toward an outcome less knowable today than when this all started, except for one obvious fact: We are all at least as qualified as anyone in this field, all potential Presidents of the United States of America.

And what better day to launch your historic run than President’s Day? But since you’re a little late to the game, here’s a list of (not so) essential books and accessories to jump-start your bid for the Oval Office.

Let’s start with the basics. It’s been forever since any of us took high school civics, with its overreaching executives, bicameral schizophrenia, and activist judiciaries locked in a tragic hate triangle of independence, interdependence, and codependence. Don’t worry: You don’t actually have to read The Constitution of the United States of America, much less understand it. Keep a pamphlet version handy, one that fits in a pocket of your slacks for the times you’ve doffed your jacket and rolled up your shirtsleeves for some authentic, politician-of-the-people action. Occasionally wave it in the air like you really care, even if that’s the only way you’ll ever uphold it. Don’t give any details; the lawyers will sort all that out.

Don’t count on words and deeds to sell your candidacy; the surest way to proclaim your patriotic bona fides is the tried-and-true Stars and Stripes pinned to your left lapel, right where a heart would normally be. For real conviction, wear it stuck straight through the cloth and into your flesh, so that you literally bleed the Red, White, and Blue. For forgetful types, this 12-pack of waving flags is perfect for pre-pinning all of your suits.

It’s a fact: This single largest requirement to running a presidential campaign is a pile of cash. And the corollary: Money cottons to money, so you’re going to have to look the part, even if you’re but a humble lawyer by way of Princeton. Get that Kennebunkport caché with Rowing Blazers, and watch your pockets overflow with big bills. Old money just smells better.

Lincoln earned the nickname “Honest Abe” at an early age, and we all know that George Washington could not tell a lie. It’s unclear how they would fare in today’s political environment. Facts are hard and often uncooperative, so How to Lie with Statistics will help put them–and your opponents–in their proper place. But if backed into a corner, just lie. Remember this: nobody likes a fact-checker.

Debates are unfortunate aspects of any campaign, but you can turn them to your advantage despite the pitfalls of reasoned arguments and civility. Forget moderators; with their policy-wonk questions and antiquated notions about equal time and fair play, they’re not there to help you. That’s not why people tune in, anyway. Zingers are the new currency of public discourse, and Insults Every Man Should Know will provide candidates of all genders ample ammunition to rebuff any affront. Remember to shout.

Just as the television camera adds 60 pounds, TV lights will blow out every white hair on your head like a thousand-watt glow stick in the thick of the Vermont woods. And as we know, age equals weakness. Avoid confrontational shades such as red, widely considered the hair color of malcontents and individualists (campaign financiers loathe unpredictability). I don’t know what the color “truffle” looks like, but it sounds staid, unnatural, and expensive: the color of electability.

Foreign policy is tricky. On one hand, you’ll be grilled for any “perceived” inexperience, knowledge, or acumen, which can make you look soft. On the other, the people who count–the donors electorate–aren’t often interested in nuance. One question solves the quandary: WWJD? That’s Jack Ryan, Tom Clancy’s spy-turned-POTUS who trusts one man to handle an international crisis: himself. Nuclear proliferation on the Korean Peninsula? Punch it in the neck. With your fist.

Hey, it’s OK. We all try our best to hew to the straight and narrow. But life is strange, and the lamestream media’s insatiable appetite for the lurid and low-down will eventually lead them to something. Whether it’s a dubious real estate deal, an indiscriminate campaign contribution, or plain old reefer madness, at some point you will find yourself circling the wagons, the flames of public outrage licking at the heels of legacy. Appoint someone to read So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed in order to understand their insidious methods. Deny. Counter-attack. Deny. Above all, remain resolute. As a famous basketball coach recently reminded us, “We built Richard Nixon a library.”

Congratulations! You have negotiated debates and primaries, weathered partisan barbs and internecine attacks, and now you stand poised to oversee the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful administration in our history, ready to reach across the aisle and sweep aside decades of divisive bickering and gridlock.

But until the inauguration, why don’t you pass the time by playing a little solitaire?