Well, as it turns out, you have to have a pretty strong accent to make "cloture" rhyme with the name of the famed Benedictine (Arnold, that is) from the Granite State. But I'm feeling generous today.
Between the New York Times already interviewing the little people who made it all possible (and to whom, as of tomorrow, I owe absolutely nothing) and the man who once could have been my clerk stooping to discuss the sexual appeal of congressional staffers, the news surrounding my inevitable elevation to ultimate power has become cheap and tawdry.
I am quickly compiling a list of who I would like killed once I start to warm my seat. More forthcoming.