At Home with George and Liz Pataki

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    May 31, 2015 7:29 PM GMT
    Liz Pataki called her husband's oldest chum on the phone. "Don," she said plaintively, "I can't get George out of the house. He's just sitting around moping, waiting for America to clamor for him to run for President. Why don't you take him out for a beer?"

    So Don, being the loyal old pal he is, persuades George to meet him down at the local bar and grill to hoist a couple. George is surprisingly upbeat.

    "Hey, Don," he said, "I just heard that the guys down at the firehouse poker game were clamoring for me."

    "Yeah, we were," Don replied. "It was your turn to bring the Doritos. No biggie, though, we ordered from Pizza Hut instead."

    George's shoulders slumped. "Well, maybe I shouldn't wait to be clamored for. Maybe I'll just run for President anyway."

    Don said, "Well, you were always good at winning things, like student council president. But you've had a lot of turns, George. Maybe this time I should be the one to run for something."

    "You?" George squawked. "What are your qualifications?"

    "I got better grades in high school civics class than you did," Don pointed out.

    "That's true," George said ruefully. "But let me ask you this---WERE YOU EVER THE MAYOR OF PEEKSKILL?"

    "You got me there," Don replied, rubbing his chin.
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    May 31, 2015 8:38 PM GMT
    Who is George Pataki? Does he have more than 4% recognition rate of Marco Rubio?
  • roadbikeRob

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    May 31, 2015 8:48 PM GMT
    You just love beating up on George Pataki. He was a fairly decent governor who tried to turn New York around but had to battle with all the over inflated, self serving egos in Albany. I didn't agree with everything Mr. Pataki did as governor but he at least tried to make my home state a better and more attractive place for private investment. That is more than I could say for his democratic predecessor, Mario Cuomo, mr. tax and spend. He was better than Eliot Spitzer, the democrat caught by the news media with his dick in the wrong woman. I think George Pataki would be a fairly decent President that is if we can snatch the national GOP from all the narrow minded bible thumping screwballs.
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    Jun 01, 2015 7:55 AM GMT
    Having nothing much to do, George Pataki gets into his Chrysler Imperial one fine morning and putters on over to the Rockland County Republican Party headquarters, which is housed in a strip mall in Peekskill between a nail salon and a Dollar General.

    Inside, Bob, the county chair, sits in the middle of several desks, writing little notes in the margins of some printed material.

    "Well, hello George," Bob says, pushing his glasses up on his forehead. "What can I do for you?"

    George stands in front of the desk, his fists jammed into his pockets, and he shuffles his feet. "Just thought I'd come by and see if I could be of some help down here." He indicated the stack of papers. "You working on some new policy positions?"

    Bob takes off his glasses, sets them on the papers. "Now you know we don't make policy down here at the local level, George. That all comes from---"

    "Yeah, I know, the Kochs and ALEC. Silly me," George says. "But hey, maybe I can help you mail things out to the voters? Stuff envelopes and whatnot?"

    Bob sighed. "We don't really do much in the way of mail anymore,'s all on the computer nowadays. It's called email. Surprised one of your boys didn't explain that to you."

    George stood silently, thinking.

    "Hey, maybe I can run down to the deli and bring you guys back some sandwiches at lunchtime?"

    Bob was starting to get seriously embarrassed for the ex-mayor. "I'm sorry, George, we have an intern now, a bright young poli sci major from SUNY, name of Schuyler Gansevoort. Nice young man, good family, member of the College Republican club. We've entrusted him with all of our dietary needs."

    George nodded gloomily, rocking on the soles of his shoes. Then he brightened up. "Maybe I should run for President?"

    Bob exhaled in relief. "Absolutely, George. You do that. Go, run for President. Later on you can come back and tell us how it went."

    George returned to his Chrysler Imperial and drove home. For the first time since breakfast, he felt inspired.
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    Jun 02, 2015 3:12 PM GMT
    The day arrived for the big announcement. George Pataki was definitely running for President of the United States of America. The theme of his speech was "Jobs, jobs, jobs," and to that end he and his people----well, okay, that young intern he'd borrowed from the county chair's office----arranged to make the speech in front of the McDonald's over by Highway 9.

    The weather was looking mighty iffy that morning as George and Schuyler arrived in the van. They planned to set up a mini-stage in the parking lot with a microphone and amp, but even as the young fellow was assembling all of this, the skies, already heavy and dark, opened up into a downpour; and they were forced to move the event into the restaurant---stage, mic, amp. and all.

    They were just setting up the stage inside when the manager, a 30-something man whose paper McDonald's cap covered premature balding, hustled up to them.

    "You can't set that thing up here," he told them. "My customers can't get to the counter to order."

    "What about over there?" Schuyler pointed across the room.

    "No good," Ernie said. "That blocks access to the drink machines and the napkins and ketchup."

    They pondered this for a moment. "Okay," George said, with the authority he'd honed to a fine point during his mayoralty. "Schuyler, take this stuff out to the van. I'll just stand here behind the counter and take questions when the press arrives."

    Ernie shook his head. "Can't let you do that," he said. "My people are a well-oiled nutrition-delivery machine. You'll interrupt their flow."

    Schuyler starts to move the equipment out of the restaurant. The door swings wildly in the wind as sheets of rain pound down from the heavens.

    "I got an idea," Ernie says. "Follow me." He leads George behind the counter to a small alcove off to the side, where there is a window that opens to cars that are driving past. "You can talk to the voters directly as they come by," Ernie said. "Suzy here will hand you the customer's order, you can pass it through the window."

    George nodded, satisfied. He took his position at the drive-thru. Behind him, Suzy was talking to the drivers through a headset. and then effortlessly assembling the components of their orders into paper bags.

    "All you have to do," she told George, "is put the napkins in. If they got fries, then throw in one packet of salt. If they got coffee, put in two of these creamer packets and one sugar and one Sweet & Low. Got it?"

    George nodded as the first car drove up. Suzy briskly handed him a bag and he cranked open the window. He handed the bag to the driver and said, "My name is George Pataki, and I'm running for President. I hope I can count on your vote. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"?

    "Yeah," the driver said, "can I get one more of them pink packets? The wife likes her coffee really sweet". Resignedly, George hands the man another artificial sweetener.

    "You're doing real good," Suzy approves.