I know we've had our differences. I know you've moved on. But, America, I just can't get you out of my head. I know this is the wrong time and that you've been in a stable relationship for the past four years. I just need to let you know I've changed, Baby. I'm a better GOP now. I'm stronger, I'm more conservative (remember how you always talked about starting a family? Well, now I'm anti-abortion in all cases and I'm not a big fan of insurance companies paying for birth control, so chances are, we'll be starting one real soon if we get back together). No more long vacations in the middle of nowhere Texas. No more looking to my daddy for advice. I'm a real political party now and I'm ready to commit to you for the next four to eight years. Maybe more. We'll see how you like my VP candidate. Did I tell you I have a VP candidate now? He's so handsome. You're going to really love him. You guys can jog together. You should see him run a marathon.
America, I know in the past, we fought a lot. Mostly in a country that had nothing to do with the attacks of September 11th. But that's over now. And I'm working on the situation in Afghanistan, even if I never mention it. I know I blew all our money and nearly pushed you into a Great Depression. But I hear you're happy now. You're working again, almost 20 hours in a retail job your PhD leaves you grossly over-qualified for. I'm sure you're going to be moving out of your mom's basement soon, America. Maybe we can rent a house together. Something White and ornate with a huge lawn and a rose garden. But I don't want to rush things, so I'll just move in there first, America. I'll get everything set up real nice and we can take our time, see how things go.
I know this guy had to really work hard to repair a lot of the mistakes I made in the past. And it's not that I'm not grateful for it. I know I hurt you and he has helped heal you, probably more than you'll ever know. But you don't seem as happy as you were four years ago. I know that has a lot to do with me, but can't we also acknowledge that some of that is because you guys just don't have the same chemistry? For all my faults, America, I did make you laugh. Remember that time Cheney almost got to be president because I nearly choked to death on a pretzel? Or the time I got stuck on stage because I couldn't figure out how the door worked? Or what about the time I talked about OB/GYNs not being able to practice their love? I know that was your favorite. It could be just like that again, America. The jokes will be a little more high-brow this time around. Less choking on pretzels, more choking on fois gras or falling off my wife's Olympic horse. But there will be jokes! We'll laugh together, America. And everybody knows laughter is the best medicine. Which is good, because if we get into power, we're going to scrap Obamacare and you're probably not getting health insurance at your minimum wage retail job. So we will just laugh until you feel healthy again.
Bottom line: I love you, America. And it doesn't feel like this guy really does. So just give me another chance.