A Tough Day in Salt Lake City

First, from the department of "I'm So Vain": For several years now I've been marking down each day's tennis results, with particular attention to wins and losses. It came time to tabulate the totals for 2011 on New Years Day. I wasn't sure what the results would be, but am happy now to announce the news. My 2011 winning percentage topped 2010 by almost 1%. For what it's worth, I get in about 20 sets a month, almost all in doubles.

Certain images and certain people on TV somehow make us laugh. There's those Coke-swilling polar bears, for instance, and the hamsters who drive the KIA Soul, both famous all over the planet. Another such image, I believe, is that of Charles Barkley, former basketball star and a very funny guy even when he's using other people's words. Anyway, Charles is the latest famous person to undertake weight loss by using a well-advertized system, in this case Weight Watchers. He even uses a line from his most famous commercial, done for Nike, in which he declared "I am not a role model." I can't explain just why, but he cracks me up every time.

Now imagine a scene in the largest room of the largest home in Salt Lake City, home of the Huntsman family. John Huntsman, out of the GOP presidential race as of yesterday, sits on an enormous multicolored couch. Mrs. H. sits, well-dressed, on an adjoining couch as big as any in Buckingham Palace. She speaks:
Mrs: Oh, John. I'm so sorry things didn't work out in the campaign. Can I get you anything?
Mr: Thanks. You know I don't feel sick, but I just feel so dry...
Mrs. : That's because we're home, Dear. It's a desert, remember? How about some lemonade?
Mr.: Thanks. You know I didn't think until this minute that we will have to make other plans. We're not moving to the White House after all.
Mrs.: I guess you're right, Hon, but is it really that bad?
Mr.: You're right, Darling, but once you're as rich as kings, which we are, and the political track is shut off, what does that leave? Every other offer involves money, which we honestly have no more use for, and none of them give you the chance to drop bombs on anyone. I mean, what am I going to do? Go around on my Harley hoping no one recognizes me and says something stupid?
Mrs.: Oh, but it can't be that bad, John. You've already endorsed Mitt. Couldn't you get a spot in his Cabinet or something?
Mr. (laughing): Believe me, Babe. How many guys who are Mormons, have good hair and a pretty blonde wife do you think there would be room for in the Romney administration, if there ever is one? I'll tell you how many - one, and his initials are Mitt Romney. You remember how many times I ripped him in those debates? It was enough that we'll be lucky to be on the Romney Christmas card list. I guarantee Mitt's five times more interested in Colbert's 5% in South Carolina than he is in my 1%. And just think - until I saw those numbers myself I was thinking I coulda been a contender. Now I'm just another ex-governor rich guy. Could it be worse? Yeah, I could be Pawlenty and have to live in Minnesota, but that's about it.
Mrs.: Well, couldn't we go back to China?
Mr.: Once again you're a little short of vertical, my dear. You only leave the Obama administration once. He wouldn't even send us to one of those sinking island countries unless he was sure there wouldn't be a boat waiting. Don't get me wrong. He's a nice fellow and all, but Republicans aren't at the top of his list right now. Know what I mean? There's a bigger chance of a weeping apology from Cheney than there is of us being ambassadors again.
Mrs.: I see. Well, is it too late to run for that old guy's Senate seat? What's his name? Hatch?
Mr.: Gee, I don't know. I just feel like I've shaken way too many sweaty palms and kissed too many homely babies to want to start up again. Maybe I'll call up Rick Perry after awhile. That guy always makes me feel so...ah... smart.
Mrs.: Well, come over here first, big guy. I think I know just what you need to feel a little happier.
Mr.: I second the motion!!