A wife’s testimony cannot be compelled as evidence in a court of law. But all bets are off at nominating conventions these days.My fellow Americans, I am here to tell you a few things about my husband that he’s too modest to say for himself. You’ve just nominated him as your candidate for the Presidency of the United States of America — but you don’t know him the way I do. And let me tell you, if you were married to my husband, you would definitely vote for him.
My husband doesn’t like to talk about it, but he knows what hardship is. Yes, he’s suffered just like you. Worse than you, in fact. He’s had to roll up his sleeves and work for a living, using his bare hands to grab money out of other people’s pockets, stooping day after day in the backbreaking heat to pick up dollars that fell on the floor of the Stock Exchange. He’s gone hungry on cold nights when we were out of gluten-free pasta. He’s gone without sleep, worrying whether he remembered to take out the trash.
My fellow Americans, I promise you that, if you elect my husband, he will never leave the toilet seat up. That’s right. That’s the kind of man my husband is. And let me tell you a few more things about his domestic policies. He will never hog the remote. He will always let me pick the movie. And take it from me, my husband really knows how to satisfy a lady. That’s why this man should be your next President!
America cannot afford the failed politics of a man who is not my husband.
America cannot afford the kind of President who can’t handle my mood swings, my shopping sprees, my mother, my O.C.D. approach to housekeeping, and my inexplicable crush on Michael Bublé. I ask you, my fellow Americans, how can we expect our President to cope with a global economic crisis, or Iran’s nuclear program, or war in Afghanistan, if he’s the kind of man who forgets our anniversary?
Vote for my husband, and he will never forget my anniversary!
My fellow Americans, I want to tell you a little story that will tell you so much about my husband. Shortly after we were married, I decided to bake him some cookies. Now, they don’t teach you much about baking at Miss Porter’s School, but I knew that, as a political wife, these were skills I would need in the future.
Well, I got mixed up and added salt instead of sugar! We’ve all been there — right, girls? Do you know, my husband not only ate three cookies and told me they were delicious, he went right out without another word and gave the rest of those cookies to Grendel, the family dog!
That’s the kind of leadership America needs!
Finally, my fellow Americans, I want to share with you something that our adorable children said to me just yesterday. I was standing there in the Situation Room when they trooped in, all 3.5 of them. “Mommy,” the littlest said — she’s five — “we want Daddy to be President!”
I ask you, America. Can you honestly stand there and disappoint my children?
My fellow Americans, I ask you to vote for a great father, a great husband, and a man who is easily the best lover I’ve ever had! I love my husband, so you should vote for him!
God bless America, and God bless my marriage! Thank you!
Also, I really want a new house. Thank you.
My husband doesn’t like to talk about it, but he knows what hardship is. Yes, he’s suffered just like you. Worse than you, in fact. He’s had to roll up his sleeves and work for a living, using his bare hands to grab money out of other people’s pockets, stooping day after day in the backbreaking heat to pick up dollars that fell on the floor of the Stock Exchange. He’s gone hungry on cold nights when we were out of gluten-free pasta. He’s gone without sleep, worrying whether he remembered to take out the trash.
My fellow Americans, I promise you that, if you elect my husband, he will never leave the toilet seat up. That’s right. That’s the kind of man my husband is. And let me tell you a few more things about his domestic policies. He will never hog the remote. He will always let me pick the movie. And take it from me, my husband really knows how to satisfy a lady. That’s why this man should be your next President!
America cannot afford the failed politics of a man who is not my husband.America cannot afford the kind of President who can’t handle my mood swings, my shopping sprees, my mother, my O.C.D. approach to housekeeping, and my inexplicable crush on Michael Bublé. I ask you, my fellow Americans, how can we expect our President to cope with a global economic crisis, or Iran’s nuclear program, or war in Afghanistan, if he’s the kind of man who forgets our anniversary?
Vote for my husband, and he will never forget my anniversary!
My fellow Americans, I want to tell you a little story that will tell you so much about my husband. Shortly after we were married, I decided to bake him some cookies. Now, they don’t teach you much about baking at Miss Porter’s School, but I knew that, as a political wife, these were skills I would need in the future.
Well, I got mixed up and added salt instead of sugar! We’ve all been there — right, girls? Do you know, my husband not only ate three cookies and told me they were delicious, he went right out without another word and gave the rest of those cookies to Grendel, the family dog!
That’s the kind of leadership America needs!
Finally, my fellow Americans, I want to share with you something that our adorable children said to me just yesterday. I was standing there in the Situation Room when they trooped in, all 3.5 of them. “Mommy,” the littlest said — she’s five — “we want Daddy to be President!”
I ask you, America. Can you honestly stand there and disappoint my children?
My fellow Americans, I ask you to vote for a great father, a great husband, and a man who is easily the best lover I’ve ever had! I love my husband, so you should vote for him!
God bless America, and God bless my marriage! Thank you!
Also, I really want a new house. Thank you.
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