The Great Hobo Party

2004 Campaign

!!!Mark Hugo for US President!!!

Orange Alert, Again

It's always a pleasure to visit our favorite hobo presidential candidate in his Connecticut lair - the Bunker. There's always a madcap air about the place. Phones are always ringing, at least one TV always going, people popping in and out - it's a constant stream of information and stimuli.

At least it usually is.

As I rolled up the driveway last weekend, for a quick Memorial Day weekend stopover visit, I noticed that the drive was empty of cars, save Mr. Hugo's current vehicle. The usual din of indie punk and news reports was not echoing across the back yard. Something was amiss.

I found Mark wearing his safari hat, and duct taping the seams of his windows. He was standing on his barcolounger, tape in hand, sweating like a sonofabitch. Shepard Smith rambled on the Fox News Channel about the latest terrorist chatter and the related Orange Alert.

"You alright, Mark?" I asked, taking a seat, and opening a can of Foster's that I'd liberated from the fridge.

Mark stretched on his tip-toes for added height. "There's a tremendous amount of chatter, Tyler. Tremendous... I kind of wish our administration would do something about it."

"They have - two wars," I joked.

"That was my favorite TV show," Mark quipped. "You're right, we've had two pretty good seasons of that show since Dubya took office."

"How would things be different under you, President Hugo?" I asked.

Mark smiled. "Well, they'd be different. Hard decisions, those our President's made. I don't agree with all or many of them, but y'know...he and I have different agendas. I'm a minutiae kind of guy."

"So what're you doing now?" I asked, sipping my beer intermittently.

"Securing the perimeter." He bit off another length of tape and put the roll down.

"Is the bunker at red alert instead of just orange?" I asked. "And if so, should I go on a beer run?"

Mark stepped off of the barcolounger. "No, and no. Come with me." We walked through his bedroom, past his laundry room and into the boiler room.

"Goooolllly, Mark," I said. "I've never seen so much booze!" Stacked case upon case were bottles of Knob Creek and pony kegs of beer.

"It sure is. Say, do you think it's a wise idea to store alcohol near your boiler like that?"

Mark shrugged. "Most of it's that inflammable kind of alcohol, like beer."

"Doesn't 'inflammable' really mean 'flammable'?" I pointed out.

"Is that what I pay you for?" Mark asked. "To play semantics?"

"I get paid for this?" I asked.

We walked back into the den and sat down in front of the TV. "There's something I want you to see," Mark said. "I've been thinking about things. We keep talking about what I'm going to say, but not so much how I'm going to say it."

"I would think that focusing on content before the showmanship might be the way to go..."

"Nonsense!" snapped Mark. Suddenly, I was frightened of this man in a safari hat with tons of duct tape and a lifetime supply of booze. "We've got work to do on this whole image spin thing. That's what we did wrong last time, don'tcha think?"

"You mean when you ran for Governor? Well, I think there were a few things we did wrong. For instance, you didn't live in the state in which you were running..."

Mark cleared his throat. "I've rented a slew of movies that we must watch. I've got a bunch of flicks dealing with how different actors played men in the greatest of leadership positions."

I went through the stack of video tapes. "What've we got?"

"Robert Redford's The Candidate, Robert Redford's All the President's Men, Robert Redford's Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid..."

"What?"

"It was a rent two Redfords get one free special at Blockbuster."

"Oh. Go on."

"Dan Hedaya's Dick, Peter Sellers' Being There, Oliver Stone's JFK, Bill Murray's Where the Buffalo Roam... We've got some good 'un's..."

"Where the Buffalo Roam? Isn't that really about Hunter S. Thompson?"

"Nixon's in it," Mark explained.

"Oh, yeah. The urinal scene. I wonder if that really happened."

"Well," Mark said, "If it really did come down to me versus Hunter Thompson in a men's washroom, you know who'd be walking out. Right? Am I right?" Mark nodded enthusiastically, his safari hat flapping about.

"Who would you say best represents the leadership style you'd be going after?"

"Oh, Dan Hedaya in Dick, most certainly."

I sighed. "We get to talk platform next week, right?"

"Indubitably," he said. And then, Mark shot me that million-dollar candidate grin. I knew we'd be alright.

"Fine, let's roll it."

"Want me to crack open a pony keg?" Mark asked.

I nodded. "I think it's required when doing serious campaigning like this."

THE MARK HUGO ARCHIVE
The Article That Started it All - Mark's Gubernatorial Campaign Announcement.

Bad Night in The Bunker - Strategy Gone Awry.

Strike A Pose - Image Consultancy in the Post-Carville Era.

An All Time Low.

A Tape Transcript.

Mark's Gubernatorial Concession Speech.

The Beginnings of Mark's Presidential Campaign.

Angry Sports, Elmer Gantry, and Freedom Fries.

During the months of June and July, we will have weekly insights from the inner circle of this, our last best hope for president. Please email your support and suggestions to: tyler@greathoboes.com. Remember, vote early, and vote often!

Tyler M. Carey
Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, The Great Hoboes of New York
Apparent Campaign Manager, Mark Hugo for President '04 Campaign