In the middle of a windy June day, standing before an array of press, Rand Paul didn’t touch his hair once.
Not as the wind and rain caused the reporters to grab their umbrellas tightly and hold onto their hats and microphones.
“I’m not here to discuss why Medicare is failing, or why socialism doesn’t work. I’m here to discuss why Trump’s hair was not a factor in the race. It should have been. I should have beaten him by a landslide. I have thick, healthy, naturally curly hair. It isn’t even moving, look – ”
At this point, Paul grabbed a reporter by the hand and rubbed it on top of his head.
“What do ya feel?” he asked.
“Awkwardness?” she responded, and backed away.
Paul sighed. “Indeed, my exiting the race way back when was awkward. I felt my hair would have propelled me to the top. I mean, who was the competition? Giuliani? He has none. Christie? He ate his at birth. My follicles are second to none. I use mayonnaise in my hair for conditioning. Not many men will admit to it, but I am not afraid. Why? Because I believe a person’s hair is a reflection of their inner soul.”
“Take Trump for example. His hair is orange, The guy has got to be mistaking his Bronze Tan Sunless Screen for his shampoo bottle. There’s no other explanation, unless his hair stylist is color blind. It’s too straight, and sort of reverses back up onto his head, kind of like it’s trying to escape. And why? Because it doesn’t like what’s hiding under it. It knows.. oh, it knows.”
At this point in Paul’s speech, most of the press began to gracefully exit, scratching their own heads, but for a different reason. Paul held up his hands, begging them to stay, however.
“I would like to announce I will indeed be running for the 2020 Election. I plan on beating Trump… by more than just a hair, too. Now, I would like to move on to discuss hair follicle epidermis, the papilla, and Krazy Glue, in that order. Let’s turn to the Television Screen behind me, please…Hello? Where did everybody go? Hello? (echo) Hello Hello Hello…. (whisper) Mom?… Et tu?”