?? %

Are you kidding? His face is burned into my retinas!

Also, I know that Rusty owns a different article of earth-toned Patagonia outerwear for every day of the month in the hopes of conveying that approachable, thoughtful, outdoorsy vibe. I know that Rusty is shorter and in better shape than Jim Wood but that he is humble enough to look at things that Jim would like to point out to him — let’s assume that it is the path to our future. I know that Rusty has been practicing smiling very hard and that if he can just reduce nostril flare by another 15% he’ll appear to be experiencing actual human joy. I know that Rusty is a fun guy because he has attended parties with the wealthy, well-connected people of my community, which look pleasant. I know that Rusty is your average, red-blooded American due to the country-flavored music beds behind the ads that precede Every. Fucking. YouTube video I watch. I know that the tip of Rusty’s nose is exactly 5.84 inches from the peak of his unassuming hairline. On the nightly, Rusty appears to me in my dreams to tell me how honored he will be to represent me. Rusty and I are one.

But to your question, I don’t need to paint portraits of Rusty, as his glossy image adorns the mailers piled to the ceiling in my abode reminding me: I. Must. Vote. Rusty. Gah!

Coronate this man, already, and free my mind from this Rusty cage!

?? %

No. I need to see more of Rusty.