Ready For Day One

There’s a lot of talk in the democratic campaign about being ready on Day One. Hillary’s main argument is that she’ll be the most ready on Day One. Barack Obama wants to prove that he can also be ready on Day One, even though he lacks thirty-five years of experience readying for Day One. To prove this point, they both throw the words “Day One” into their speech at any opportunity possible. To paraphrase: “I’m ready for Day One.” “We need a leader prepared for day one.” “How many donuts can I have in a Day? One.”

For a long time, I thought that “Day One” was what the survivors of a nuclear apocalypse would call the day they all got together in Nebraska or wherever, but this campaign has broadened my mind. Now I am psyched for Day One. It sounds like a wonderful day.

I remember when we used to evaluate Presidents based on their first hundred days. How delightfully antiquated of us! I laugh at my pre-Day One self. Laugh at her? I barely know her. Who’s that young fool in that sepia toned photograph on my myspace page? Me, before day one.

Day One will be like New Year’s Day, except instead of hangovers we’ll all be in a pretty good mood. We’ll still order pizza in, but we’ll go jogging before we eat it. And, unlike New Year’s Day, we won’t pretend to follow our resolutions for three weeks until our best friend visits and we decide that having between two and twelve drinks isn’t a big deal. We will go whole hog with Universal Health Care. In a day. What day? Day One. Make your doctor appointment now.

On Day One there will be a parade, but a parade that all the kids can go to by themselves and no one will kidnap them. The adults will watch football. There will be football on Day One, because that’s American.

And on Day One, all of the other countries will forgive us. Like petty co-workers they will point and whisper “Day One” as we saunter into the UN and suddenly, everyone wants to sit with us again. No translators, thank you. On Day One, we speak the universal language of Day One.

On Day One the Iraqis will wake up, as if from a spell, like the winged monkeys in Oz, and realize that they’re all friends. They’ll ask us not to go, but we’ll pack up the Emerald City anyway.

The Beatles song “Yesterday” will become irrelevant because no one likes yesterday. Not after Day One.

Our landlords will replace our appliances without a commensurate increase in rent because on Day One, we deserve a new dishwasher.

Wait? Did I just say landlords? I meant that we’re all homeowners with substantial, small, and legal loans. Day One: you own a house for real this time.

On Day One, the 24-hour news anchors will look at each other and say this:
MALE: I am out of things to talk about. Why just keep repeating ourselves?
FEMALE: You’re right. That’s enough vaguely disguised editorializing for one day.
MALE: Well, see you tomorrow.
FEMALE: Yeah, go have fun and don’t worry about any workplace shootings or random kidnapping of a young female like yourself! That’s not gonna happen.
MALE: Not on day one.
BUT THEY WON’T LAUGH AT THE SAME TIME AFTER HE SAYS THAT.

I see you Day One, and I await you with open arms. The Democrats have promised and I believe. Barack, Hillary, make this day come. I know that you are ready for it.