The debate did not go well. I tried to be angry with China and with Iran and various other nations, but my heart was not in it. It is difficult to be angry with China for so many months on end. My foreign policy team did a fine enough job preparing foreign policies for me, and I believe I reiterated them competently, but my opponent kept announcing that I had previously had different policies. I do not understand what point he was trying to make.
I am very tired, Mr. Diary. I am tired of all of this. I am tired of being angry with China, and pretending I have foreign policies. I am tired of telling people I have other policies. I am tired of explaining to them that they are not allowed to know what my policies are until after they have voted. I am tired of surrounding myself with dull people who do not understand that I have many times more money than they have, and that they should therefore address me with more respect. I am tired of campaigning in state after state with incorrect tree height, and strange social customs like wearing garbage bags as raincoats, and of telling various commoners that I am aware of their presence. I am tired of my opponent claiming I did not want to help the auto industry, when in fact I very much wanted to help the auto industry by simply allowing each of the various factories to be deconstructed and put to better use in some nation with less demanding commoners. I could have helped a great many of those factories move to China myself, if I still held my previous job, which I do not because I have been running for president for Pete's sake.
I no longer feel confident that I want to be president. Why was I running again? There was the tax cut, but surely it would have cost less money for my fellow wealth units and I to simply purchase sufficient lobbyists to obtain it. Now in order to satisfy critics I have had to claim that my singular goal, a very large tax cut, would not actually cut taxes. That is, in all of this, the one policy alteration that I cannot abide. I do not care about the other things—the nonsense about "ObamaCare," the being angry with China, and the other things are all merely strategic calculations, but the very large tax cut for myself was the one policy out of all of them that I had designed myself, and that I felt strongly about. I spent many an evening explaining to Ann how I would carefully reapportion the money from our very large tax cut into each of our various accounts. To disown it feels like I have disowned a child. A particularly good and uproarious child, like Tagg, not one of the others.
Recalling the events of these last few weeks, that was the last straw. I was able to easily adjust all of my other policy pronouncements, once those dreadful primaries were over, but scolding my very large tax cut was a wrong and foolish thing. It has sapped my strength.
There are only two weeks left in the campaign. I called my foreign policy advisers back today and told them that I am not interested in hearing from them again unless they have a foreign policy that relates to something truly important, such as how to further alter the tax structures of various small islands. I have asked my staff to hold as many fundraisers as possible so that I may at least spend time with individuals of similar wealth and stature, but they assert that during the last weeks of the campaign it is necessary to be seen by as many commoners as possible. I miss the farmer with the elevated, toroidal house. I miss watching my primary opponents spar while having to do nothing of note. I miss Mr. Bus.
I wonder what I shall do if I do not win this election. I cannot remember now which state I live in.