It occurred to me sud­denly that hughstimson.org hasn’t yet declared itself in this round of the Great Race for the Presidency. No problem, this one’s easy. Hughstimson.org pos­sesses a faith not readily shaken, and that faith remains deeply embedded in Dennis Kucinich. Carry on sir, with your duly appointed rounds of win­ning the pres­i­dency. We’ve got your back over here.

Also, I’m willing to throw my sup­port behind this Esquire mag­a­zine article if it makes a bid for the vice-president spot. I hear that’s a good spot.

It’s Kucinich Time!

The pure prod­ucts of America go crazy,” wrote William Carlos Williams — antipoet of “the thing itself” — but Dr. Williams was from north Jersey, and as far as I know never strayed to Cleveland, whose own pure prod­ucts long have been flame tem­pered, union made, and born bat­shit insane. So when I tell you that Dennis Kucinich is first of all a sane, sane man, and sec­ondly, fit to be pres­i­dent — and thirdly: It’s Kucinich time, now, because what this blue-balled, war-thwacked nation needs is not another scle­roid cor­po­rate whore but a sixty-one-year-old vegan peace­monger, poor beyond cor­rup­tion and honest as spit, hauling balls big enough to both choke Dick Cheney and keep a smile like a woozy kitten’s on the love-lit face of a twenty-nine-year-old heart­throb wife; and if not now, when? and if not Dennis, who? — when I tell you this hand over heart and cheek untongued, then it behooves me also to say that I am a son of the same crooked flaming river, Cleveland-born and –bred and unashamed.