The above picture of a standee of Mitt Romney after his 2012 electoral debacle pretty much sums up for me the joys and sorrows of being the President of the United States.
I remember while growing up people asking me if I wanted to be President. While I was immensely flattered at the time, now I think the presidency is a booby prize, similar to being one of those carnival sideshow attractions in which people throw pies at your face or a ball that dunks you into a tank. This country is so evenly divided between the two political parties that you are guaranteed of being hated by millions of people, many of whom would like to see you impeached, assassinated, or at the very least publicly humiliated.
The only U.S. President in recent times to have been liked by more than 50.1% of the population was Ronald Reagan, and then even he came in for a forest of brickbats toward the end of his second term when it appeared that his memory was fading. I was actually at the Reagan Presidential Library when Ronnie died. A newsman pushed a microphone into my face and asked me what I thought his legacy would be. I answered: “I didn’t care much for him as President, but he was a good communicator.” Of course, that never made it into any news program.
I can see why Hillary Clinton may decide not to run in 2016: She would be roundly hated by millions. She saw that whole Kenneth Starr impeachment charade over her husband’s peccadilloes, not to mention that whole Whitewater fracas. And there were some who wanted to frame her for the “murder” of Vince Foster in 1993.
Would I run for President? I would—but only if I could have right-wing pundits executed at will and senate and house members arrested for being too obstreperous. And what are the chances of that ever happening?