Dear Vice President Gore:
ahem
Good sir, weren't you paying attention when I told you that I'd give you until Halloween to get off your ass (you know, resting on Nobel laurels is so 20th Century) and declare that you are a candidate for the Democratic nomination?
Alternatively, you could have told us you weren't interested in running....
But now it's the end of October. Halloween is here. The holidays are around the corner, and, unless you've been busy drawing new coastlines post-greenland-icesheet-collapse on maps (hint, Tennessee is safe), we only have two paltry months until the first caucuses and primaries, and guess what:
I still haven't decided who to support, if not you, for 2008.
What else can I do to get some kind of answer out of you?
I wrote diaries. I recommended diaries from people who were smarter and more articulate than I am. I contributed money to the cause of drafting you. I sent two cents to your office.
Hell, I even prayed. I prayed that someone as wise and foresighted as you would get in the race. I read "The Assault on Reason" and thought I saw a Da Vinci coded message in there that you were so aware of what needed to be done that you knew you had to get in the race.
I was sure that post-Nobel you'd reveal your true intent. For two days I held my breath that at any minute you'd announce.
But now?
It's Halloween.
How much longer can a guy wait?
Please, Mr. Gore....get in the race. Tomorrow. But if you are not going to get in the race - GET OUT OF IT - because whether you want to admit it or not, there are a lot of people like me who are pining for you. Lots of us consider you a sleeper candidate in the race, regardless....
You are our only hope - either to run, and win, or to set us free so that we can go find some other candidate to fall in love with.
Me? I don't know what I'll do. Hillary scares me...Obama broke my heart with the anti-gay thing....Dodd is doing lots of good things, but is..so senatorial. Edwards hasn't lit my fire yet....
But give me a chance to go fall in love with one of them. Sweet, sweet Albert A. Gore, Jr.: either be my man, or set me free.