Vote Toast-put a cat in
the White House
DATELINE: WEST NEWBURY
This week Toast Archibald declared her candidacy for President of the United States. If she wins it would make her the first feline to serve as chief executive. We sat down with Toast recently (she was laying on the sofa actually) for an interview.
Reporter: Why are you running?
Toast: I have some free time, and I'd really like to check out the furniture in the White House. I know, there have been cats there before, Socks Clinton and a few others. But I'm not talking about some kitten hiding under a sofa in a back room. I'm taking about drinking milk off the White House china in the Oval Office. I'm talking about the seat of power. I hear it's incredibly soft and comfortable. It should be awesome to nap on.
R: Speaking of napping, isn't that one of your campaign promises?
T: Absolutely. My pledge is "Make America late again-naps for everyone."
R: What is your campaign slogan?
T: "Toast 2016--Put a Cat in the White House." I thought about "Toast!" but look what it did for Jeb Bush. I also considered "Toast-She can't be worse than the other guys" but I didn't want to go negative.
R: I also see that you endorse access to medicinal and recreational catnip.
T: I certainly do. It's time to make catnip fully available to every feline. It's time to bring catnip out of the shadows. It's time to open dispensaries, where any cat who feels the need for something to make them run madly around the house can purchase it legally.
R: But you know catnip has never been illegal? That you can buy it at any pet store?
T: Is that a squeaky toy I hear? (dashes off)
R: How do you go about getting people to vote for you?
T: Well, social media is huge, absolutely huge. I'm all over Twitter. Also bribery. And to be honest, the classic mafia techniques have worked very well for me. I knock on someone's door, invite myself in, and say "That's a nice couch. Be a shame if something were to happen to it." And just like that, I've got a supporter. It works every time.
R: Who are you proposing as your running mate?
T: Well, I've been going back and forth about it. I could choose Eloise, the other cat in the house, but there's no doubt that she would scratch and bite all my constituents. Right now I'm thinking about picking a dog. I know that's risky, but I'm a cat, I live for risk--I jump into the clothes dryer any time it's warm and the door is open. I'm considering a dog because I need the canine vote and also dogs are servile. You just hold up a box of Milk Bones and they'll do anything you ask. So, the most likely choice is my housemate Truman, an Australian Shepherd. If I pick him, I would get the Australian vote.
R: But people in Australia won't be voting in this election
T: I see some string! (dashes off)
R: What is your party affiliation?
T: I'm an independent, of course. I'm very independent. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
R: Where is your campaign headquarters?
T: On Truman's bed. It's comfortable, centrally located, and has great access to food and water. Also, if I'm on it, it means Truman is laying on the hard floor, so it's a win-lose, which is perfect for me.
R: What do you hope to achieve if you win the presidency?
T: I hope to humbly serve the American people to the best of my ability and promote job growth, economic stability, and energy independence. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Gotcha. I actually just want unlimited tuna, and I can't open the cans myself.
A final word from Toast: "I urge you, everyone you know, and really everyone in the entire world to follow my run for president on twitter @ toastcat4618. It would be a real shame if something were to happen to your couch."
A vote for Toast is a vote for jingly balls
by Toast Archibald
DATELINE: STILL WEST NEWBURY
My fellow Americans
I know you are confused and distraught about this election. Who wouldn't be? You've got two candidates more frightening than a trainload of scary clowns. SAD! You're wondering what to do on Election Day. Calm yourselves, people. I come before you once again with a solution.
Vote Toastcat on November 8.
I know it seems crazy. One small, eight-pound cat in charge of the entire country? How will it work? I don't even have thumbs. But I assure you, I will hire people with thumbs. I will hire people with the best thumbs in the country, I promise you. Their thumbs will be huge, and they will be amazing. They will do incredible things with those thumbs, believe me.
I have run a hard-fought campaign, which you already know if you are one of my 618 Twitter followers (YES! 619 just now. Thank you, @Meowski Catovitch!) It's been a privilege meeting so many of you over the last six months. Okay, I haven't really met any of you, but I would have if certain people WOULD ONLY LET ME OUT OF THE HOUSE. I'm working on this, believe me. These people are going to be very sorry, especially when they get the new couches they are planning to buy. Very sorry. Very, very sorry. They are nasty people, by the way.
Since I was not able to participate in the debates (apparently five signatures, one of them the dog's, are not enough to qualify), you may be asking what I stand for. Naps. Naps are what I stand for, or really, what I lie down for, 18 to 20 hours a day. My campaign slogan is "Make America late again," and I believe we would all be better off if we took this to heart. No more stressful meetings, no more deadlines, no more rushing. Show up whenever you feel like, lay down, wash yourself a little (okay, that's just me), fall asleep or scratch someone. Sounds good, doesn't it?
I am also a strong supporter of recreational and medicinal catnip. Catnip use has been stigmatized for too long, and it must end. When I am president there will be catnip dispensaries on every corner, and huge subsidies for growers. Far too much farmland in this country is devoted to useless things like vegetables, when it could be planted with catnip. Acres and acres of lovely catnip, miles upon miles of it, waving in the breeze, entire states like Kansas completely covered...Sorry, I'm getting carried away, but you get the idea.
Other than lateness and catnip, what else will you get if you vote Toast? String. You will get string, and you will get jingly balls, the colorful kind that make a wonderful noise when you bat them. One vote=one jingly ball, two votes=two jingly balls, this is my promise. Vermin Supreme, one of the other alternative candidates, is proposing a free pony for every American, but I believe string and jingly balls are a far superior option, and you don't have to clean up after them.
But where do I stand on economic uncertainty, terrorism, foreign policy, and other key issues, you may be asking. People, people, calm down. We're all going to be napping, blowing off meetings, and chasing jingly balls, remember? You won't even notice those things. But if you insist, here goes:
Economic uncertainty: As long as there is enough money for tuna, nothing else matters
Terrorism: My housemate Eloise "the Enforcer" will take care of this. Even ISIS is scared of Eloise.
Foreign policy: Putin is awesome and he has a hairless cat named Mr. Bigglesworth. (That's Dr. Evil from the Austen Powers movies, you say? That's okay, same thing).
It's true, I have not made it onto the ballot in every state. Well, I haven't made it in any states. But the write-in candidate is a grand American tradition, one I am urging all of you to consider. Believe me, when you are alone in that voting booth, contemplating Hillary versus Trump, voting Toast is going to seem like a very appealing option.
You'll thank me, when you wake up from your fifth nap of the day, and chasing jingly balls is the only thing on your to-do list.
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed here do not reflect the views of the management or staff of the Daily News (who, if they truly cared about this country, would get onboard the Toast train, believe me).
I am Toast Archibald and I approved this message. You can follow me on twitter at Toastcat4618, where I will continue to campaign and will not accept the results of this election unless I win. Because if I don't win, it was obviously a rigged election. Believe me.
Candidate Toast: I'm baaack
By Toast Archibald
DATELINE: WEST NEWBURY, FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME
What do you mean, you didn't notice
I was gone?
I'll bet you thought that when I lost the presidential election you wouldn't hear from me again, but that's not the way things work these days. Nobody shuts up anymore. Oh, I grant you Jeb Bush has been pretty quiet, but that may be because he isn't certain that the election is over and it's safe to come out. Hilary Clinton certainly hasn't put a lid on it (a book, a million interviews) and neither has former President Barack Obama (most recently seen being smug with Prince Harry in England).
Nope, nobody keeps their trap shut and goes away quietly like they did in the old days, so why should I? I'm still a young cat, in the prime of my life really, and I am in no way ready to be relegated to the litter box of history.
I'll admit I was sorry not to be named to a cabinet post by President Trump. I'm at least as sharp as Omarosa, and lot less volatile. I was hoping to be able to create my own position, something along the lines of Secretary of Napping and Bouncing off the Furniture, but this never materialized. Am I bitter?
(No answer. An hour passes)
Sorry! Dozed off. But if anything, it just proves my sterling credentials for that cabinet post. You asked if I was bitter? Yes, I'm bitter. For heaven's sake, an unshaven tramp in a filthy coat named Steve Bannon was White House Chief Strategist! I could have told Donald it would end badly-roadkill is more presentable than that guy. I hear the administration is recommending rabies shots for anyone who came into contact with him.
Speaking of rabies, I believe it may be my association with my housemate Eloise that poisoned my chances with the new administration. Eloise is essentially an international criminal and she would collude with anyone for an extra scoop of Iam's Hairball Care Cat Kibble. Eloise is exactly like Kim Jung Un, an overweight, unstable maniac with a penchant for junk food and a willingness to attack exposed flesh-or lob a ballistic missile-just because it's Thursday.
The problem couldn't have been my health, because there is absolutely nothing wrong with my health. To prove this, I am authorizing my veterinarian to answer any questions you may have about my recent checkup:
Toast's vet: "Yes, Toast is in fine condition, and she has excellent genetics. She weighs in at a lean 8 ½ lbs, and the extra Fancy Feast Ultra she enjoys appears to be doing her no harm whatsoever. She is up to date on all her vaccinations and she is free of fleas. Toast is also a pleasure to examine, unlike other cats I could name--" here the vet glances pointedly at Eloise "--who require two people, leather gloves and the need to be wrapped in a large blanket during THEIR visit to keep everyone safe." Talking to you, Eloise.
Also, I could have been a huge help to the President with his social media presence. Like him, I routinely crush it on Twitter, although he has 46.7 million followers and I have 759. The mainstream media can't keep either one of us down, but I tweet about tuna a lot more than he does.
TOAST TO DJT: "You might stir up less drama if you tweeted about tuna all the time like I do."
DJT TO TOAST: "Flaky Toast tweets about tuna 24/7 and expects to get Twitter followers. SAD!"
I am often asked about my intentions for 2020. Okay, no one has even mentioned it, but never mind that. What's important is my willingness to serve the American people, or to be brutally honest, their willingness to serve ME. Let's get
real here, people. You know the phrase 'dogs have owners, cats have staff'? Well, if I were president I could finally have staff I deserve. If I could power nap in the Lincoln bedroom, I could achieve every cat's dream-a seat at the table of power and a food dish in the Oval Office.
So why, you ask, should you vote for me, now that you know my motives are completely and utterly selfish? Don't think about that now, let me climb into your lap, rub my head my head against you and purr loudly while staring into your eyes. You know you'll do anything for me if show you a little affection. Keep staring into my eyes and listen to my purr-aren't I adorable? Yes, I am. Now get me some food.
Finally, I'm trying out a different slogan for the new campaign. Last time around it was "Make American late again." Everybody loved permission to be late, but it's time to switch it up to something even more powerful. Something simple, yet strong, something that emphasizes my cat nature, yet promises unanimity, diversity, social justice and unlimited tuna. Something like...
#I'm with fur.
Toast Archibald (@toastcat4618 on Twitter) tweets from a sunny spot on a pillow in the front window. Marilyn Archibald (firstname.lastname@example.org) enables her.
By Toast Archibald
DATELINE: WHAT DO YOU THINK?
I'm running for president. Again.
Just because I'm a washed up, has-been, 2016-election-loser is no reason not to run for president. Just because people say I couldn't get elected dogcatcher (although this is a job I'm keenly interested in if the presidential thing doesn't work out) is NO REASON NOT TO RUN FOR PRESIDENT.
For heaven's sake, Joe Biden is running and he first ran for president about 750 years ago. And like Joe, I love sniffing hair. When the human comes home from the beauty parlor, I bury my snout in her hair because gee it smells terrific. Weird? Yes. But I'm a cat. I do weird things. What's Joe's excuse?
Elizabeth Warren is running, despite her dubious Native American ancestry claims and the exaggerated stories of her humble origins. My origins were just as humble--I was brought up in a cardboard box. Top that, Liz.
Robert Francis Beto O'Rourke is running, even though his major claim to fame seems to be a fair resemblance to the Kennedys and a cool nickname. He also keeps climbing up on counters and tables at his rallies and I don't understand this because I get yelled at when I do the same thing.
Pete Buttigieg is running, despite his extremely odd name (ditto John Hickenlooper and Amy Klobucher) but he'll be toast, pardon the expression, soon enough, because he said something nice about Chick-fil-A. That's just not cool with his side, even though Chick-fil-A is delicious. Very, very delicious. In fact, I think I want some right now.
And don't forget Bernie Sanders, who seems to be always yelling at those kids to get off his lawn. The picture of Bernie with the bandage on his forehead was scarier than an empty food dish and that, my friends, is the scariest thing imaginable.
Bill Weld is running and...and... and... dang it, I'm coming up empty.
How can I not run? I've got:
-A fabuous slogan ("#I'mwith fur2020", also "Toast: Whatever")
-A great back story (cardboard box, remember?)
-A huge ego and a monstrously selfish personality
-Nothing else to do
Perfect, right? I also would be fine with all those diner stops, because they involve food (hopefully bacon). I'm less keen on shaking hands, because I don't have hands and this is a problem because it means I can't roll up my sleeves. Candidates love to roll up their sleeves. It makes people think they're actually doing something. Well, folks can just stroke my back-a little to the right, no left, yes, yes, good, now don't stop. I SAID DON'T STOP. Oohh, you're a bad voter and I think your ballot is going to get lost.
l don't love the thought of all that traveling in my cat carrier, but if this is what I have to do for the American people, so be it. My campaign staff will pop me in my box and try to ignore me while I yell for 15 straight hours. Earplugs, people. Don't forget your earplugs.
What is my platform, you ask? Let me think.
Don't rush me!
Okay, okay, I've got something. Last time it was "Make America late again," and people loved it. All that rushing to meetings and soccer practices-no more. In conjunction with this, I advocated almost continuous napping, because the two things really go hand in hand. This time around I'm going advocate for what I consider the most important concern of our time, an unmet need in our country. I announce today that I will provide all American families with a paper bag, two if their family is large. As far as I'm concerned there is simply nothing more important, more satisfying, or more irresistible than climbing into a paper bag. You can thank me later.
And finally, why am I running? Because we are now truly more than ever the last great hope of Earth. At this moment of maximum peril and maximum potential, we will show ourselves and those who will succeed us in this great country just who we are and what we can do.
Wait a minute, Beto already said that? Wow, I thought my ego was big.
Toast Archibald (email@example.com) lives in West Newbury and on the days when she isn't running for president can often be found in a paper bag.
Sharing the couch
By guest columnist Toast Archibald, a cat
Hello people. Toast here.
Many of you will remember me from my ill-fated presidential runs. My 2016 platform of #Make America late again should have garnered massive support. However, I lost after getting exactly one vote.
Bitter but energized by defeat, I entered the 2020 race because I had a fabulous slogan (#I'm with fur 2020), a huge ego and and most importantly, nothing else to do.
However, the endless hours traveling to campaign stops in my cat carrier wore me down. Actually, it wore my campaign staff down --they couldn't put up with my nonstop mewing anymore and resigned en masse, so I didn't really have a choice. And here I am, sleeping on a couch in West Newbury instead of sleeping on a couch in the Oval Office.
And now all of America has joined me on the couch, so to speak, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
There are some advantages. When I am in the mood for affection, I can get it from up to three people here in the bunker formerly known as our house. The opportunities for chin and ear scratching are endless. I'm also shedding like crazy, so everyone goes around covered with cat hair and that's awesome.
However, the humans NEVER leave. They are always here, hogging my favorite comfy spots, making noise, watching TV, and generally getting in the way of my napping. I used to average 18 hours of hard sleeping per day, and honestly, I think it's down to 17 now. Maybe even 16 and a half. That's concerning.
I haven't even mentioned the trauma I have had to endure as Eloise, the world's deadliest cat, has moved back in along with the college girl. Eloise was previously nicknamed Meatloaf because of her heft, but she's shed some pounds recently so that's been shortened to Meaty.
Apparently Eloise/Meaty was suffering from body image issues, because now that she's lost weight she's actually a little less vicious than she used to be. Still, you don't want to get between her and the food bowl at mealtime and you definitely need to watch your fingers at all times. In a pathetic bid for attention, she spends a lot of time carrying cat toys up and down the stairs and crying loudly while doing it. What a showoff! However, she's helping to maximize the distribution of cat hair, so she's not entirely useless.
Speaking of hair, everyone knows that we cats have to lick ourselves to get clean. It's embarrassing, but that's just the way it is. However it has come to my attention that a few humans are currently putting their tongues in places where they very much don't belong-like in cartons of ice cream in stores. STOP IT NOW. Even Meaty knows better than this, and she's not that bright.
Now, back to my favorite topic, couches and sleeping. As we previously discussed, there are advantages and disadvantages to my people being sprawled on the sofa at all hours of the day. I have to grudgingly admire that much time spent in a prone position. However, to be clear, I am supposed to be the one in the prone position.
But though it goes against my selfish cat nature, I realize that we need to cut the humans a little slack right now because times are tough. So I'm calling on all of my fellow pets to show their people extra love, because they really need it. Dogs, give your owners all the snuggling, wriggling, happy doggy kisses and slobbers that you can muster-dial it up to ten. This comes naturally to you, and it's your time to shine.
And cats...well, even though it will hurt our reputation as aloof and independent jerks, let's prove that for at least this once we felines can make room on the couch and in our hearts for the humans. There are laps crying out for our furry selves, so go forth and sit on them, while purring loudly. The humans love that. There is one condition though-
We get to watch Tiger King
This article was originally published in the Newburyport Daily News