Why I Should Be New York City's Next Mayor

Listen, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to be elected the next mayor of New York City.

Okay, so I've never run anything, except maybe my own mouth and, once in a while, a bath. Nor have I ever competed in public debates, unless you count that time with my wife and mother-in-law at the Queens Center Mall.

And yes, it's true, too, that I've never held any public office or balanced a municipal budget, nor taken a position on congestion pricing or gone up against the City Council about zoning variances, much less negotiated with unions, passed legislation, courted donors or met with constituents, let alone practiced philanthropy, prosecuted stockbrokers, ranted on the floor of Congress, run the subway system, come under investigation for fiscal malfeasance or founded a supermarket chain.

Oh, to be sure, I have my work cut out for me as an underdog. Nobody has ever dared to accuse me of being in the know about anything, least of all government. But hey, such naivete gives me the appearance of innocence. Besides, I say real-life experience is overrated. I mean, it's just so partisan.

Still, I invite New Yorkers to take into account my record of grassroots leadership. For example, I live in an apartment building. As such, I sometimes hold the door open for other tenants. I also ride the subways and often give up a seat to other riders. So enough said. Forget about my needing any steep learning curve when it comes to casting light into the darkness.

Believe you me, I'm qualified ten times over to be mayor. In a sense, I've spent my entire life preparing for a role in City Hall. For starters, I've personally visited Gracie Mansion numerous times and can already find all the coat-check rooms with my eyes closed. I also watch New York 1News, even if "Frasier" reruns are on. Yes, call me a zealot, but I happen to believe in that level of public service.

I also support job creation, especially where no jobs currently exist. At the same time, I staunchly believe it's okay to back something you once opposed, the same as it's okay to oppose anything you once backed, provided you're upfront in offering a plausible rationale about pulling a switcheroo, otherwise known as either tap-dancing across a tightrope or, more broadly, as It Seemed The Right Idea At The Time.

Talk about your political pedigree, pal, I've got my bona fides right here. Already my brand is on the rise, in fact. I recently landed a key endorsement, albeit from my own wife, and even if only grudgingly, thus generating a coveted coattail effect, particularly on her side of the family.

But those are only a few of the reasons I believe myself the best choice here. To wit, when I break a promise, take my word for it, it stays broken, no matter how hard I try to fix it. I'm also against all incumbents, at least until the minute I become one.

Indeed, I've issued several potentially seminal white papers, all now up for FDA approval as cures for insomnia. As those works of scholarship clearly show, I support all the principles we as New Yorkers hold dear, and accordingly I've staked out my positions on all of today's key issues.

OK, for now I forget what any of those might be - the principles and positions, that is - but let me get back to you on that shortly, maybe a year from next Tuesday. Even so, only with such bold initiatives as I've proposed in place do I believe our city can do better -- unless, of course, it does worse, in which case all bets are automatically off.

So vote for me. Vote with your heart, your head, your wallet or your feet - or, for that matter, whichever appendage, internal organ, personal effect or extremity you prefer. And if it helps at all, just think of a vote for me as poetic justice. After all, I've voted for others, so you'll be bringing us all full circle. That makes no sense, of course, but if you find me anything about this campaign that does, I'll vote for you instead.