Campaigning harder than Barack Obama at a KKK gathering

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I've appointed a campaign manager (well, 'appoint' would imply that she 1) is getting paid 2) had a choice in the matter - but let's not get bogged down by too many minor or major technicalities) to help take me through these final, bleak hours of my futile campaign.

So here, almost verbatim-ly (ED: Is that even a WORD? RED: If you MUST know, the -ly add-on is my attempt at doing an Irish lilt) in her words, is my final plea...

“If I win the Can You Twist competition I, Red, will ensure a brighter future for the world’s children. (RED: And dogs. ED: ... RED: Shut up!) Everyone who wants to work will have a job, and everyone that wants to lounge around and do nothing will get to do that as well, while getting paid.

I, Red, pledge to lower taxes, cholesterol, and the common denominator. They said it couldn’t get lower… I say THEY HAVEN’T TRIED HARD ENOUGH.

So vote for me, Red*, in the Can You Twist competition today, because if you don’t someone else might win and fuck** up your life completely.

Paid for by the People Who Loaned Money to Red and Now Need It Back, But Won’t Get It Unless She Wins Foundation."

*My real, and most unfortunate name, is the one that almost looks like 'bagel', but isn't pronounced even remotely the same as bagel. You need to know that for voting purposes. But just to be clear, my name is NOT Alice, Jeanne, Bridget, Laurian or Nikki...

**Apparently that word is Irish for muck. Because she is Irish. With 110% pure Guinness coursing through her veins to prove it.