The Great Hobo Party

2004 Campaign

!!!Mark Hugo for US President!!!

We Have Nothing to Fear, But...

Except for Mark.

It wasn't that Mark was having a bad time, but he was just kind of doing his own thing. For those who don't know the future leader of the free world, they should be informed that this is aberrant behavior. See columns 1-12 of the articles about his Presidential Run, or anything at all from his Gubernatorial Run for illustrations of this. Mark was just camped in the corner of my apartment, sitting in an armchair, reading.

"You alright, Mon Capitane?" I asked.

"Never been better," muttered Mark. His lips moved silently as he read through the little chapbook he had in his hands.

I crouched a little to look at the cover. "FDR's Fireside Chats, huh?"

"This guy was brilliant," Mark said. "Did you know he saved the country from not just their worst economic tumult ever, but also acted as Commander in Chief during a war?"

"Yeah, I think I heard something about that..." I said. "So, are you having a good time at the party?"

"Indeed, O Campaign Manager," Mark said. "Indeed." He closed the book and put it on his lap. "So, he...uh...spoke in front of fireplaces a lot, huh?"

I nodded. "I think so. I think most of the time he was on the radio, so who knows what he was speaking in front of. It could've all be spin. You want a beverage?"

Mark shook his head. He stood up and shook out his legs. "No. Thanks. There's work to be done."

"Work?" I asked. "But this is our holiday party."

"Do you realize," he said, "that we could have me sit in front of a microphone, heck even a camera, on the Internet and do his schtick?"

"Yeah," I said. I chuckled and popped open another beer. "Y'know, you look a little more Wilsonian than F.D.Rooseveltian, but I think it could work."

"Tyler! Don't you see? This Internet...it's like a medium really... I could do weekly analysis of the news and politics, even do some investigative reports..."

"Like Matt Drudge?" I asked.

"I was thinking more like William Randolph Hearst. Yes, this is something that we have to do." He turned towards the crowd. "Number Two! To my side!"

Partygoers squealed and yelped, and a veritable ripple spread as Vice-President-to-be Karl Moore barreled over. "Yes, sir, Mark, sir! Sir! What can I do for you? Do you need me to be a human ottoman, again?" Karl began to get on his hands and knees.

"No, no. I need you to drive me." Mark turned to the crowd. "Attention, please! We're going to Home Depot! If we're not back in an hour, send out a St. Bernard with a tiny barrel full of Courvoisier."

"Home Depot?" I asked.

"We're going to build me a fireplace," Mark said. He started down my back stairs, giving orders to Karl the whole way. "We'll need bricks, and...and what do you call that stuff you put between the bricks?"

"Cement?" Karl suggested.

I heard Mark's voice trailing off in the distance. "No, no...they call it something else when it's between bricks...Mortar! That's it..."

I looked at the crowd. "Well," I said, "I guess as Mr. Hugo's campaign manager, I really ought to go along...to make sure there aren't any arrests or anything. There's tons of booze in the icebox, and...uh...well, we got another tray of those pigs-in-blankets. Have fun!"

Dwayne, as his badge indicated was his name, looked over at me and Karl. "Don't ask me what he's talking about," I said. "I've been drinking."

"How about Gold Leaf? Do you have any mortar with gold leaf flakes in it? Preferably real, but damn, how much would that stuff cost?" Mark looked at the floor for a moment. "Dwayne?" he asked, at length, "Can I be honest with you?"

Dwayne nodded. "Umm...yeah..."

"I'm going to be the next President of the United States of America, Dwayne. I need a fireplace that will reflect that, when I'm preaching the good word to Hoboes over the Internet. You know what I mean?"

"Has he been drinking, too?" Dwayne asked me.

I laughed, heartily. "No, he's sober. He's really confusing when he's drunk, actually."

"So," Dwayne said to Mark, "You're going to need labor, too?"

Mark hunched his shoulders and put a hand under his chin in thought. "The labor vote would be helpful, Dwayne. Perhaps you could speak to your union people?"

Karl nudged me, and we escaped for a moment or three. "You need a Christmas Tree," Karl said to me, as soon as we were out of earshot of Mark.

"Isn't it a little late for that?" I asked. "By the time we get back to the apartment, the party will be almost over."

"Every apartment needs a tree at Christmastime. A real one!" Karl gushed.

Over in the gardening department, we saw gigantic pines that would have scraped against the ceiling of my stairwell, let alone my apartment. We were getting downright frustrated - even considering a fake tree - when I spied it. There it was...A Charlie Brown Christmas Tree if every there was one. It was a tiny Norfolk pine, no more than three feet in height. "It's perfect!" I said.

Karl looked at it suspiciously. "Sure, if you've got a dog named Snoopy."

"Nah, come one. Let's get it."

"Ten bucks," Karl said, looking at the price tag. "You can't beat that."

We rendevoused with Mark at the cash registers. He was wrapping up a deal with Dwayne.

"Very good, my man. Two flats of bricks, three bags of cement, and an endorsement from your co-workers. You'll deliver and install at my home next week? How much will all of that be?" Mark asked. He slowly wrote a check, and presented his driver's license. "Remember my face, Dwayne. I'll be President, one day. Would you be interested in a cabinet position?"

"I don't do cabinetry," Dwayne said. "I only work in masonry. But, Phil in Aisle 317 does cabinets. You can talk to him."

Mark smiled. "You've got just the right demeanor for politics, young man. Well done!"

We settled up and walked outside. As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I literally hit the sidewalk. Up, up, up went my feet and the Christmas tree, and down went my back and head. SMACK! I hit the pavement.

"Are you alright?" Mark and Karl asked, simultaneously. They rushed to my side and began to pull me up.

"STOP IT!" hissed a voice from the shadows.

Karl and Mark dropped me in alarm. "Who's there?" Mark asked.

I turned my now twice bruised head to the right to see three winos sitting under the eaves of the Home Depot building. "We're day laborers," said one of them. "Stay down!" he urged.

"But, it's night," said Karl.

"We like to get an early start," said Day Laborer Number 2. "Stay down," he said, "You can sue their balls off! Slip and Fall."

Mark shook his head and pulled me up. "We're not litigious people," he said. "We're politicians."

Both of the day laborers laughed heartily at that. "You guys are alright," said Day Laborer Number 1. "You want a drink?" He offered a bottle in a paper bag.

Mark stood in front of Karl and I, who were both slavering, looking at the bottle. "We can't risk it. I'm running for office, and we won't have any drunk pratfalls on my watch," he said.

"But Mark," I said, "I just had a half-drunken pratfall..."

Day Laborer Number 2 smiled. "I respect that. You guys are men of principle. What's your name, bro?" he asked Mark.

"Mark Hugo. I'm going to be President." Mark cast that winning smile of his upon them.

They both rushed to shake his hand. Number 1 said, "Whatever we can do for you, man, you got it. If I was registered to vote, you'd have my vote."

"Much obliged," Mark said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a fireplace to plan."

They nodded and waved as we walked away, me carrying my dilapidated Christmas tree. "Huh, 'Fireplace'," said Number 1 to Number 2. "Must be some secret code. I dig that guy... He's the real deal..."

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.

Orange Alert, Again.

Mermaid Parade Invitational.

American Idols.

The First Parade.

Independence Day.

California Dreamin'.

Where Do You Go When the Lights Go Out?

DER GOVERNATORRR!

the dossiers...

Everybody Needs a Campaign Song

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