I explained to one of the architects yesterday that when I'm asked a question, my answer is almost always going to be either purple or cookies. This was after I was asked by two people in separate incidents whether I was "the purple person" responsible for the persistent rumors that the new office will be decorated entirely in violet. I explained both times that while I've thrown my support to the purple campaign, I'm neither its instigator nor its only backer... but if I'm ever going to run for public office I can't be seen denying the obvious truth in the accusation.
I am going to run for public office, in fact. I haven't decided which office, but my platform will be cookies. No, literally. I will make a platform out of cookies and stand on it (wearing special protective gear to avoid dirtying it) to deliver my campaign speeches. At the end of each speech I will signal my caterers to pour hundreds of glasses of soymilk and invite the entire audience to symbolically consume my platform as a delicious snack courtesy of their very generous future Undersecretary of Whatever. I will break off the first chunk from the podium myself and hand it to a small golden-haired child in the first row, who will stuff it into her mouth with a tiny fist and give the cameramen a happy, crumb-covered grin that we can splash all over the papers the next day.
My election will be practically guaranteed from that point forward. The coastal liberals will appreciate the cruelty-free progressive nature of my cookies and my gesture of sharing food equally to any member of the public who walks in off the street to attend my speech. The family-values-oriented Midwesterners will feel drawn to the motherhood-and-apple-pie appeal of my cookies-and-milk snack and the traditional, nurturing spirit which it represents. I'll be the biggest American hero since George Washington.
Most importantly, when I'm elected I won't have to wait until 4:30 to go home and try the brownies I made last night that were too gooey last night to eat and too messy this morning to pack in my lunch. I'll have a full kitchen in my office, and I can use my spare time to volunteer with a non-profit group (which I'll have started) dedicated to protecting the right of all workers to have fresh baked goods in their workplaces. Posterity will remember me as a great humanitarian.
Posted by dianna at May 4, 2005 11:50 AMUnfortunately, posterity will also remember you as the cause of humanity's first interplanetary war with the Cookiefolk of Zorbulon IV.
Everyone expects some cultural misunderstandings when two species meet for the first time, but ripping off the head of the Ambassador Plenipotenitary, dunking it in soy milk, and taking a big bite is one hell of a way to make a first impression.
Posted by: Andrew at May 4, 2005 01:48 PM...But you win the war, because of your robot army.
Robots made of cookies, of course.
Posted by: katie at May 4, 2005 02:35 PM"dianna! dianna! is it true that you have ties to tomato-related propaganda, and if so, how will this affect your pro-cookie image in the eyes of voters?"
(press secretary) "dianna has no comment on that subject at this time."
"but don't cookies and tomatoes hold antithetical positions? can you tell us who you would support in the event of a conflict?"
"dianna really can't comment on that now."
"is there any truth to the rumors of plans for a tomato-flavored cookie?"
"the secret service has asked us not to remark on that. ok, folks, dianna has to get going now..."
Posted by: didofoot at May 4, 2005 02:42 PMOh my god. Yeah, three generations of war and having the Earth bombed to pieces, forcing the human race to take to space in colony ships, really sucks. But I've never had a more delicious Ambassador Plenipotenitary. The Pepperidge Farms knockoff was pretty good, but it couldn't hold a candle to the real thing.
Posted by: Dianna at May 4, 2005 03:10 PM