 by Richard M. Nixon
It was at a moment of humiliating defeat that a great man once said, "You won't have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore." That great man was me, Dick Nixon. And in that moment, the fact that I would never again have to smile and clap while the media served up a steaming pile of bullshit at my expense was my sole comfort after my defeat in the 1962 California gubernatorial race. No one likes to lose and nobody like a loser, but the fact remains that after November 6th, either Barack Obama or Mitt Romney will feel like the biggest loser on the planet. There can, however, be nobility in defeat, and how a loser behaves in defeat can reveal more about his character than any victory, sometimes even elevating his stature above the cocksucker who beat him.
 by Richard M. Nixon
And so we have reached the midpoint of this election - halftime, so to speak. In football, that would mean the players have left the field and retreated to their locker rooms to strategize for the second half and slap each other's backsides. So it is with politics. In my time, political conventions could be ground-shifting events; today, they're little more than three-day commercials for diet cola. Regardless, every candidate for president wants to emerge from his convention with a full head of steam. Having been the Republican standard-bearer not once, not twice, but thrice, I've learned a thing or two about what makes for a successful convention (and what'll make for a catastrophe of Goldwater-esque proportions).
 by Richard M. Nixon
John F. Kennedy may have died almost 50 years ago, but today, he just beat Rick Santorum in Michigan. Beating other people in elections was never a problem Jack had. If things ever got too close to call, like they did in '60, that son-of-a-bootlegger could always count on somebody like that muskox LBJ to put him over the top. Jack wasn't on the ballot today in the GOP primary in Michigan, but the time-honored wisdom offered by one of the nation's most beloved presidents certainly beat out Senator Santorum's pro-papacy cure for what ails America.
When I heard Senator Santorum say that Kennedy's 1960 speech on the separation of Church and State made him want to "throw up," I could practically hear that Ivy League pretty boy's flip retort, something along the lines of, "Sock it to me," but much less clever and memorable. Of course, Jack wasn't around to rebut Mr. Santorum. But then, he didn't have to be. To this day, the typical church-going Catholic still idolizes the bastard. And your average Irish still keeps Jack's picture above his potato cupboard. As the only Catholic in the race who matters (Newt Gingrich does not), Santorum should have pocketed their votes like Mayor Daley on Election Day. Instead, they regarded Mr. Santorum's remarks for what they were: a giant 'fuck you' to their American hero.
 by Richard M. Nixon
I was asked recently how I felt about the Republican Party's adulation of President Reagan. After all, Republicans across the country trip over themselves to claim a piece of the Reagan mantle, but they rarely, if ever, advocate a Nixonian style of governance. And that's fine. But it's also a lot of horseshit. It would be one thing if they actually wanted to be like Reagan - a sunny consensus builder with more makeup than Tammy Faye Bakker - but they don't. Today's Republican Party is comprised of mean, nasty bomb-throwers, who amplify the divisions in our society to win 50-percent-plus-one of the electorate. Forty years after I defeated my enemies by leaving the White House, the GOP has become the party of Nixon - whether they'd like to admit it or not.
For evidence, one need look no further than Newt Gingrich, a walking, roly-poly ball of bitterness and resentment with the uncanny ability to stoke the deep-seeded rage of the Moral Majority - In other words, a Nixon Republican. Newt takes the fight right to the media in interviews and debates, all while charging hard against a pretty boy opponent with deep pockets and a silver spoon up his ass. But rather than embrace Nixon as his ideological forefather, Newt persists in tying himself to Reagan. It is a grave mistake for him to make in this competitive campaign.
 by Richard M. Nixon
I was surprised to read that President Obama socked it to me the other day when he proposed streamlining NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, which I helped create. According to Mr. Obama, Nixon only placed NOAA under the jurisdiction of the Commerce Department to spite my Secretary of the Interior, even though that department would have been a better fit for that agency. And may I say just how deeply, deeply disappointed I am that President Obama would find anything wrong with that. He must remember that the single greatest motivator for any man who sits in the Oval Office is the emotion of spite.
Yes, I admit I placed NOAA under the jurisdiction of the Commerce Department. My Interior Secretary at the time was the Honorable Walter J. Hickel, the former Republican governor of Alaska, who took it upon himself to openly criticize my handling of the Vietnam War and the filthy protesters of that great American endeavor. He thought he would try to sway mean, old President Nixon with a letter expressing his concern. So you know what I did? I shit-canned the bastard! Was it spiteful? You bet your ass it was spiteful. But Dick Nixon never got anything he wanted in life without spite. When I first met my future wife Buddy, she was with another man. I wooed Buddy with my trademark Nixon charm just to spite the doofus she was with. If I weren't such a spiteful son-of-a-bitch, I never would've had that shrill ice queen around to second-guess my every decision as president.
 by Richard M. Nixon
It doesn't matter if you're young, old, male, female, white, black, brown, Republican or Democrat, Americans agree on one thing: we all hate Congress. No other government institution, through pettiness and inaction, makes Americans throw up in their mouths with the frequency and intensity of the United States Congress. This carnival sideshow of 535 crooks, boozers and nymphomaniacs who represent us accomplish nothing save for the occasional bill to name a bridge after Ronald Reagan, God rest his makeup-caked soul. And no wonder they're unpopular; one senator representing all 38 people who live in Wyoming can single-handedly stymie a plan put forth by a president elected by a majority of Americans nationwide. But now, in the midst of this fight over raising the debt ceiling, Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell has offered, unfathomably, to cede control of Congress' debt ceiling-raising powers to the president. If President Obama doesn't jump on that, there may be something medically wrong with him.
 by Richard M. Nixon
I like you, Congressman Weiner. And that's not a line I use very often. Your strategy of screaming at your political enemies on the floor of the House gave hope to this old political workhorse who thought the PC age had rendered our politicians ball-less eunuchs, too scared to tell their esteemed colleagues to sit down and shut the hell up. In an institution comprised of soulless, focus-tested automatons, you've been an actual human being - too human, it turns out, for the delicate sensibilities of the voters and the media. As calls mount for you to resign in the wake of your sexy pictures scandal, you must stand your ground and stay in office, if only to prove to your enemies that you're one Weiner who won't wiggle an inch.
Now, Dick Nixon is no prude. Once every ten years, my wife Buddy and I would engage in sexual congress. We'd polish off a bottle of Maker's Mark and I'd seduce her by sitting at our piano and treating her to a slurred rendition of "Let's Misbehave." After coitus was achieved, the help would burn our sheets, while Buddy and I would retreat to separate rooms and avoid eye contact for the next three weeks. It was magical. Of course, I was always loyal to Buddy for reasons I still can't explain. But as you well know, Congressman Weiner, you are not alone when it comes to politicians who think with their genitals. The only reason Eisenhower signed off on the national interstate system was so that he could have a faster route to take to his mistress's house. And though I was never on the in with that silver spoon-sucking pretty boy Kennedy, I'd suspect he wanted to go to the moon simply to learn how many titties moon women had, God rest his depraved soul.
 by Richard M. Nixon
Maybe Dick Nixon is just out of touch with today's Americans, but in my day, there was nothing Americans loved more than a winner. The only reason Nixon was able to come back and win the White House in '68 was because most voters knew, in their heart of hearts, that a certain skirt-chasing pretty boy and his Chicago thugs robbed me of something I rightfully won back in '60. Being the bigger man that I am, I let the suave asshole win the day, and as luck would have it, everything worked out great for Nixon in the end. But that was only possible because Americans understood that Dick Nixon was a winner. Winning is part of the American spirit, and what better way for Americans to revel in their winning ways than by watching with delight as our military bombs the ever-living hell out of some backwater third-world shit hole. That's why it vexes me to no end that our current Commander-in-Chief is tip-toeing around what ought to be the crown achievement of his presidency thus far: the total annihilation of Libya.
 by Richard M. Nixon
It's only February, but already spring is in the air. Each day brings with it a few more minutes of sunshine, while God's creatures great and small emerge from their long winter slumbers to fornicate. If I sound uncharacteristically womanly, it's because Nixon is positively tickled pink at the sight of greedy, shiftless union drones pleading for their rights at the Wisconsin State Capitol. My jowls haven't been this flush with color since I accidently walked in on Kissenger changing for the White House Correspondents Dinner! Governor Walker has those union bastards right where he wants them, and he'll get more than he ever dreamed if he has the balls to see this standoff through to the end.
 by Richard M. Nixon
Let me make something clear to the grass-smoking bleeding hearts who read this blog: it's not easy being a world leader. With leadership comes scorn, ridicule, second-guessing; polls dictate just how "popular" you are, while advisors give you asinine directives like "smile more" or "scowl less." And every day, your enemies are working against you to rob you of your title and power. Today, the world lost one of the good ones: Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, a man whose only crime was the desire to crush all opposition and be president forever.
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