A Heartbeat Away
By Joel Stein
My childhood dream was to grow up to be Vice President. That way, I figured, I'd get to be in history books, but I wouldn't have to do any work. I am the one person who, even after my parents pointed him out on TV, aspired to become Walter Mondale. With voters asking for change, this might be my year. So I called a person who has vetted vice-presidential candidates for past nominees and asked him to vet me. Because of the sensitive nature of his work, he requested that he remain anonymous--and that I not give him a stupid fake name like Eddie Vetter. Some people learned a different kind of lesson from Watergate.
The vetting process has three steps. According to--and this is per his request--the Brad Pitt of the Washington legal community, Phase 1 involves 30 to 50 potential candidates whose past public records and statements are researched. The people who make it through are then contacted by either the candidate or Mr. Pitt and asked if they want to be considered. Many say no, often because they know something will come out in the vetting process that they'd rather keep quiet. After a long pause, I said I'd like to continue.
Mr. Pitt then ran me through an hour-long version of a process that would normally include a questionnaire and a request for my medical files, tax returns and financial-disclosure reports. He asked the Thomas Eagleton question about mental problems, which I passed. He asked the Zoe Baird question about employing illegal immigrants and not paying their taxes. I confessed I didn't know much about our gardener's citizenship status, given that I tape a $100 check to my door every month that is made out to simply "Rafael." It turns out I'm safely below the $1,000-per-quarter exemption for both Rafael and my housekeeper. Apparently, America doesn't care if its Vice President horribly exploits workers.
He asked me the Gary Hart question, and I told him I'm happily, faithfully married to my lovely wife Cassandra. Then he asked, "As far as you know, has she always been faithful to you?" That one messed with my head. Especially when he said he would be calling her too. I asked if people or their spouses usually make confessions here. "People tend to come pretty clean in the vetting process," he said. I told him that for the sake of saving time, he didn't need to call Cassandra. I confessed to several pot brownies I'd eaten, which did not concern him. I told him I didn't abuse alcohol. I'd paid my taxes. I didn't belong to any controversial organizations, or any organizations at all. "You'd be atypical of most vice-presidential candidates," he said. "Usually they've done stuff."
It seemed as if I might have a real shot at getting tapped for the vice presidency. "So far, I haven't found anything," said Mr. Pitt. "You're like the last honest man in America." Then Mr. Pitt got very serious. "Is there anything that might come out that we should know about? What can't happen here is that the nominee reads something in the paper that you didn't disclose in the vetting process." After he says this to candidates, every one of them tells him something--from false accusations from old law partners to an uncaught drunk-driving experience that someone witnessed.
I told him some of my MP3s were pirated, which didn't concern him. Unable to think of anything else wrong I'd done, I figured I'd mention that I once wrote a very unpopular column about not supporting the troops. "What? You wrote a column about how you don't support the troops? This is what we in the business would call a showstopper. Yikes." He then went to my Wikipedia page and informed me that I would have gotten axed in the first two minutes of Phase 1.
While I was trying to defend myself, apparently Mr. Pitt checked out my website. "Your official website says you're the guy who loves porn and hates America," he said. When I explained that was a joke, he told me jokes don't make for good campaigning. "Generally, people don't like to know that their Vice President wrote the sentence 'I love porn.' I'm now looking at the unpublished Joel Stein columns. 'The Hooker in My Car'? I'm now reading your column about your marijuana brownies. It's not the best thing in the world. This column is about your travels through the Girls Gone Wild world. If we did this for real, I would have called you and said we don't have to waste your time. And we would really appreciate it if you would actually endorse our opponent."
Not only would I never become Vice President, Mr. Pitt assured me, but I could never run for any public office. "Not in this country, no. Maybe France. They might be a little bigger on porn and hating America," he said. Before I could become Vice President, he told me, America would have its first female, Jewish, Hispanic, gay, Muslim and ex-convict Vice Presidents. Still, Vice President of France doesn't sound bad at all.