Backstage at the Bone Spur Ranch Freedom BBQ, campaign staff were rushing around checking microphones and reviewing talking points. A handler walked into Klaxton's dressing room and immediately froze.
Klaxton was standing proudly in front of a mirror wearing a pink tutu, blue jeans, rhinestone tiara, giant Texas belt buckle, cowboy boots, and a sash reading MISS BONE SPUR RANCH.
"Sir... what are you wearing?"
"A winning strategy."
The handler stared. "The rally starts in ten minutes."
"I know."
"The press is here."
"I know."
"The donors are here."
"I know."
The handler pointed at the tutu. "Then why are you dressed like a pageant contestant?"
Klaxton placed his hands on his hips. "Because real men aren't afraid of a tutu."
Another aide entered. "Sir, please tell me that's a joke."
"No. This is leadership."
Klaxton walked over to a whiteboard. At the top he had written:
MACHO = CONFIDENCE
CONFIDENCE = TUTU
THEREFORE TUTU = MACHO
One aide stared at the board. "Sir, that's not how logic works."
Klaxton pointed triumphantly. "That's exactly what they said when I invented Senatorial Pardons."
Meanwhile on Mount Olympus, Athena looked into a crystal viewing pool and asked, "What is he doing now?"
Apollo immediately began laughing.
The campaign manager made one final attempt. "Sir, maybe just wear the boots and jeans."
"No compromise."
"The belt buckle?"
"No compromise."
"The sash?"
"No compromise."
"The tiara?"
"The tiara stays."
The manager collapsed into a chair.
"When I walk onto that stage," Klaxton announced, "voters will see a man so secure in his masculinity that he can wear anything."
The campaign manager muttered, "They're going to see a man dressed like Miss Texas at a rodeo."
Klaxton grinned. "Exactly."
On Olympus, Apollo fell out of his chair laughing while Athena wondered whether Klaxton might someday accidentally arrive at the correct conclusion. Zeus watched him adjust his tiara and replied, "No. But I admit he's fascinating."
