by Ron DeSantis
If ever there was a time when a man wanted to sing out from the rafters, to cry out, “I am a great man,” now is that time–and I am that man.
People ascribe a lot of silly things to politicians and their motives. Here’s one of my favorite misguided statements: “Politicians are all about power.”
That makes me laugh. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Fact is, I got into politics to help people. I love people. People are me. I feel like I’m one of them–a people.
I also love the problems people face. Because very problem gives me an opportunity to bring a solution. I love getting in there and saying, ‘Hey, you’ve really messed this up, but I can fix it.’
That’s what people do, right? They mess things up.
I ran for President of these United States because I was trying to fix a broken down country, dig it out of the gutter, and protect it from parties interested only in destroying it.
Hey, I’m Ron DeSantis–that’s what I do. I fix stuff.
One thing that needs to be fixed is that lack of positive praise targeted at me. Sure, anybody can throw stones, but it takes true humanity to offer a positive word, to give praise. And that’s what I’d like to do now for a few moments. I’d like to bask in the glow of my own praise. My belief is that, if I’m positive and upbeat, people around me will be, too. And that will do a whole lot to make America great again.
I call it, Song of Myself. Here it goes.
I sing the song of myself, A song I have often sung, It is a song of glory, One to shout from the highest rung. For we are given But one fleeting short life. Full it is of treachery, Full it is of strife. Few among us are there Who live it to the full-- And we who are in politics Especially feel the pull. But that doesn't matter, It ain't no thang, Because I'll my praises Throughout the land they'll ring. So here it is, The song to myself, A song that reminds me That I am top shelf. No matter the day Or the hour that be, I am top shelf, The best--that's me. I'll endorse Donald Trump, But with caveats, you know, For he might have beaten me, But he's got a long way to go. Just wait and see how far this man gets Without this Floridian's endorsement, Or a cryptic one, not flagrant. I'll rise from the ashes To find I'm still on top. I will speak my mind, tell it straight-- Won't be a flippity flop. The world will come around To my way of thinking Just as soon as Americans see That there country is sinking. I fault Donald Trump for this little bitty thing, That he failed to kiss My Floridian regal ring. Plainly put, I'd have made A better President than he ever could, Than he'd ever dream He ever would. The history books will prove That I am top shelf, And every textbook will sing of me, Sing the song of myself.
I don’t know about you, friend, but that’s what I call poetry. Maybe even epic poetry. It’s so epic that just today I issued an order that this poem be posted on the front door of every school in Florida. It’s that important. It’s that epic.
It’s a shame that Donald J. Trump can’t find it in his seven-sizes-too-small heart to compliment me and praise me. He knows he should, but I accept that it’s impossible for him to do.
Look, I’m above mudslinging–just another reason I’m worthy of praise. My belief, and my wife backs me in this belief, is that Trump will in time see just how valuable of a political operative I am.
Speaking of operatives, way back before all this started, Greg Abbott, the rootin’ tootin’ rollabout governor of Texas, my buddy and chum, the Lone Star man if ever there was one, flew out on a private plane to visit me. We spoke of many things, chatting late into the night and on until the wee hours of the next morning. He was like a father to me. I even called him ‘Dad.’
As the sun was rising over the state capitol, he made the point over and over again that I was a great man. That I was truly, honestly the greatest man he had ever met, aside from himself. The sunlight gleamed through the window, illuminating his haggard and worn lined face.
“Look, son,” he said, “I’m not going to waft breezes up your skirt, but you need to have this high view of yourself if you’re going to succeed. It’s in you, you can do this. You can do anything.”
A high view of myself. I wasted no time.
“Dad,” I said, “you have just mirrored to me my exact inner-dialogue. I didn’t want to brag, but you have externalized the internalized message that I have of myself.”
“You can do no wrong,” said Father Abbott. “You are justified in all your undertakings.”
Then he invited me to sit on his knee. And he blessed me, saying, “Behold, a great storm is coming. But you shall lift your hands and calm that storm. All will be well.”
We wept together that morning, then ate grapefruit, whole wheat toast, and freshly peeled bananas. We embraced, and as he rolled away and into his airplane, I tear rolled down my cheek. Watching the plane taxi on the runway, I said to my assistant, “There goes the second-greatest man I have ever known.”
My assistant smirked. He knew what I meant. Sure, Greg was a great man, but I knew I was greater. Gregg even said as much.
As I watched his plane lift off from the runway, perform three perfect barrel rolls, then gently bank westward, I felt the support of the whole nation, the whole nation at my back, urging me on, saying, “You got this Ron, you can do this.”
Well, Trump might have won, but let me tell you something about that victor: it was as much my doing as his. Don’t think my fingerprints aren’t all over this. Give credit where credit is due. I have no hard feelings about Trump’s run for the Presidency. I just wish he could acknolwedge my supremacy.
I’m Ron DeSantis. I fix stuff. That’s what I do.
Thanks, America. See you at the polls.