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DATELINE SMILEYVILLE - Howdy, Americans! My name is Markus Pell. I hail from Greening County, which is located just about smack dab in the middle of 'The Mitten,' otherwise known as the Lower Peninsula of Michigan. The county seat of Greening County is also named Greening, and is where I grew up and spent a good chunk of my adult life. But about a dozen years ago, I finally flew the coop and left the security of my hometown, seeking new horizons. My then-teenaged daughter Mellanie (good ol' Mell Pell) and I moved not quite ten miles down the road to Smileyville, the village, which is nestled within the township of the same name. The hours of my life tally up to just about fifty-four years, so far. And I reckon I've spent about ninety-eight percent of those hours here in Greening County. My home. My peeps. Heh.

Here is a curious thing, Americans: I sometimes feel that, although in essence I've spent my life in a square that goes twenty-four miles from east to west and twenty-four more from south to north, I've really traveled about a billion miles and more. Maybe, if you Americans stick with me for awhile, you'll come to see what I mean. Hmm? Oh... the two percent of my life spent outside of Greening County? Well, probably ninety-eight percent of that two percent has been spent up north. Hunting elves, mostly. Not to shoot.

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What does Greening County have? Well, the city of Greening is the home of Middle Mitten University, 22,000 or so students who call themselves 'Ojibwas.' Then of course there are the real Ojibwas, several thousand tribal members who reside primarily east of Greening, although tribal members live throughout Greening County. The tribe itself owns property in each of the townships in the county, and also in the city of Greening. It also owns one of the largest tribally-owned 'casino and resort' operations in America. Things are lots different on the reservation today, compared to when I was a kid; they're lots different in the city of Greening, too. Other than the university and the casino, the big thing about Greening County is agriculture. Lots of feed corn and soy beans and other things are grown here. And there are a good number of dairy farmers, and small 'organic' farms growing I don't know what-all, and also farmers with livestock considerably more exotic than cows and pigs.

Greening County has one other notable claim to fame: it is the birthplace of the Conservative Democratic Party (CDP). The Conservative Democratic Party in my home county has been doing its thing for about twenty-five years now - it'll be twenty-five years on August 31, 2012, for those who feel the need to know such things - but doing so undercover, as it were, via the Smileyville Township Secret Society of Conservative Democrats. Candidates for local partisan office have run under the banner of one or the other of the two major political parties, true; but it is the Smileyville Township Secret Society of Conservative Democrats that has, time and time again, marshaled the votes to determine who wins and who loses in Greening County, Michigan. Not every time - but most of the time. And we also work to help secure, and generally do secure, conservative winners in nonpartisan races such as judgeships.

During the past quarter century, knowing that America was not quite ready for its message, the Conservative Democratic Party has remained under wraps, patiently biding its time and awaiting the day when millions of everyday Americans might be not only ready but eager for our message. And on Saturday, December 24, 2011, the Smileyville Township Secret Society of Conservative Democrats voted to disband itself. It then voted to recreate itself, officially, as the Conservative Democratic Party. Except for one person, everyone in the rented room at the Smileyville VFW hall knew that they were going to officially create the CDP and 'go public' that day. And except for that same lone individual, everyone there knew that they were then going to nominate a presidential candidate for the 2012 election - and for the 2016 election, too! And the one person who knew nothing about any of this was the person the Conservative Democratic Party nominated, twice, to be its candidate for president.

And that one person was me.

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When I hit my early forties and became an orphan, which led eventually to my (for me) bold move from the ol' hometown, it was not surprising that I would land in either Smileyville, the village, or somewhere out in Smileyville Township. For one thing, of course, the Conservative Democratic Party was born there, and I happen to be one of only four people to have been present on that notable occasion. Indeed, although I was still a young pup, still in my twenties, I was the person who first broached the topic of creating the CDP. I'm not crowing, Americans; it's a pure historical fact. We were sitting on the porch of a large, old and immaculate white farmhouse with mint-green shutters and trim, along about twilight time. Mr. Sherman was there, and so was Mr. Denver. They were both members of the Greening County Board of Commissioners, and so was I. Mr. Sherman and Mr. Denver have long since passed away, although they and the fine service they gave to Greening County governance are by no means forgotten.

The fourth person present was the one on whose porch we were enjoying the evening. He is alive and well, and his name is Pat Riott. He was then and is still today the Smileyville Township supervisor. Pat Riott also happens to be my uncle. Yes, Americans, I am a Riott on my mother's side, which leads to the second good reason for my move - once orphanhood happened, almost all of my remaining family in the county (excepting daughter Mell, of course) lived in Smileyville Township, and it's nice to be around family, usually.

There are two main political clans in Smileyville - the Smileys generally hold sway over village politics, while the Riotts generally hold sway over Smileyville Township politics. Riotts and Smileys aren't particularly nasty toward one another, it's nothing like that. But they aren't famous for being friends, either, with one notable exception that you'll hear about later. And while our village mayor (and publisher of our weekly newspaper, The Smileyville Grimace), George Wilburforce Smiley V (the only fellow in all of Greening County with a 'V' at the end of his name - I checked), would not have been pleased to learn that yet another couple of people with Riott blood coursing through their veins had moved into the township, he was by all accounts mortified to discover that they'd moved right into his village, and that I was one of them. I do live and vote in the village (Mell has long since grown up and moved about a mile away, into the township), although the township proper begins right across the road from my house. And while I'm not the only member of the extended Riott clan to reside in the village, there aren't many of us. In any event, six times in the dozen years I've lived here Mayor Smiley has stood for election to remain our mayor, and every time he is convinced I am going to run against him, on account of our having had political squabbles back in my county commissioner days. I'd never vote for him, of course, any more than he'd vote for me, but I can honestly say that I have never aspired to the mayoralty of Smileyville.

For many years, Americans, I did aspire to be your president. Those aspirations - to be president and to be a great one for you - commenced when I'd barely turned six years old. I did not lose the desire and did not utterly surrender the dream until about ten years ago, along about the time I opened Smileyville Cab and Courier. I started Smileyville Cab and Courier because I found myself needing to do something, and it sounded like more fun than any of the other plausible possibilities I could think of; plus, if nothing else in all these years, Americans, I have learned the quickest route from Point A to Point B in Greening County, Michigan. I figured I could run the cab company while working toward the dream that replaced my dream to be a great president for you: the creation of the Bright White Light Entertainment Engine. I'm still working on it, Americans. The fun is in the journey.

As soon as running for the presidency was something I no longer wanted, I should have realized that God would find a way to foist a presidential nomination or two upon me. And that is just what He did, too. It was the morning of the day before Christmas this past December, and even though I've been a victim of Premature Curmudgeon Syndrome (PCS) since the pathetically young age of five (when I awoke one morning to discover that my perpetually 'furrowed brows,' plural, had knitted themselves into one 'furrowed brow,' singular, making for a tough start to the grade school years, I can assure you, while also providing a cautionary tale to you young Americans to listen to a loving mother or grandmother when she tells you that if you keep making that face it might just stay that way), I was feeling jolly. Daughter Mell came by for Christmas Eve morning coffee; after Mell left, I showered and shaved and headed on over to Mabel's Diner. The diner would be closing at two o'clock that afternoon on account of Christmas Eve and all, but I knew Ellie would be working the breakfast and lunch crowds, so I stopped in to say howdy, even though I'd be seeing her later that night. 'Ellie' is Ellie Belle O'Dell, the woman I love and aim to marry. She is also the niece of Mabel Knight, proprietress of the diner that bears her name. Rumors that I am courting Ellie in hopes of securing larger portions (okay - huger slabs) of Mabel's apple crumble, hot, submerged in deep dishes of milk, cold, are not worthy of response. I love Ellie for Ellie and I love Mabel's apple crumble for Mabel's apple crumble. Everybody loves Mabel's apple crumble, for gosh sakes.

I hate it, Americans, when I respond to something unworthy of response; it makes my brow tighten and gives me headaches.

Well anyway, I had a wonderful time with Mell, and a wonderful time with Ellie, and a wonderful time with my apple crumble - both slabs. Ip-zay the ip-lay, Americans; otherwise the First Lady or the mayor of New York or some zorbonite (more on them later) will discover that I usually have two slabs and sometimes three, and if that happens I might get into some deep-dish trouble! And we don't want that. Feeling stuffed but happy, I headed home from Mabel's Diner to take a little nap, before heading to the regularly-scheduled meeting of the Smileyville Township Secret Society of Conservative Democrats.

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The secret society (now the CDP) meets every other Saturday, and I thought it odd that Uncle Pat, our 2011 chairperson, didn't cancel the meeting, being the day before Christmas and all. But he said he had a piece of business to take care of before turning over the gavel to Jasper Brissell, the 2012 chairperson. I remember his brief grin when I told him all he'd do is make people mad and that he probably wouldn't even be able to muster a quorum to conduct any business. We have maintained a base over the years of about one hundred and twenty dues-paying members. Depending on the issues on the agenda, there are generally anywhere from twenty to forty members at our meetings, usually closer to twenty. The executive committee is composed of thirteen members, and seven of those thirteen are needed to constitute a quorum. Uncle Pat said he figured he'd have a quorum. When I asked what business would be on the agenda, I was again treated to the quick grin. He said that the only specific agenda item was a 'farewell speech' he planned to deliver. That was odd; Uncle Pat had taken any number of turns as chairperson of the secret society and had never before given a farewell speech, seeing as he'd be holding the gavel again in a few years, anyway. But it was clear that Uncle Pat didn't want to discuss his 'farewell speech,' so I didn't pester him about it.

To my amazement, the parking lot of the Smileyville VFW hall was nearly full when I pulled up shortly before two o'clock. Sometimes a scheduling conflict forces us to hold our meetings at the smaller Smileyville Township hall, a few miles from the village. Figuring the VFW must be having some Christmas shindig, I was about to drive on out to the township hall when I noticed Uncle Pat's pickup parked near the front doors of the VFW. I finally found a parking spot and headed inside. No sooner was I through the door than Uncle Pat called the meeting to order. All thirteen members of the executive committee were there. All told, eighty-four dues-paying members of the Smileyville Township Secret Society of Conservative Democrats were in attendance that Christmas Eve day. They'd all come, evidently, to hear Uncle Pat give his 'farewell speech.'

And give it he did, but the farewell speech turned out to be a fond adieu to the secret society itself! Uncle Pat's speech was brief, and was followed by a series of motions and votes that occurred so quickly that I could barely keep track of what was happening. Here is the upshot: a motion was made and seconded to disband the society. It was approved by unanimous consent. A motion was made and seconded to replace the secret society with the Conservative Democratic Party; this too, passed with unanimous consent. The next thing I knew, a motion was made and seconded to nominate me as the 2012 presidential candidate of the Conservative Democratic Party! I was nominated by acclamation. Before I could quite wrap my head around the fact that I'd just been nominated to run for president, another motion was made and seconded and likewise approved by acclamation, to give me the nomination for 2016 as well!

Merry Christmas to good ol' Markus, eh, Americans?

Everyone was hootin' and hollerin' and calling for me to give an acceptance speech for the 2012 nomination. I took the podium and told them that I could not give them an acceptance speech because I would not be accepting the nomination, not for 2012 or for 2016, either one. Well, Americans, the people in that room were people I know, people I love. And when eighty-three people you know and love are all smiling and happy and you say something that instantly makes them sad and unhappy - and on the day before Christmas, no less - well. I glanced at Uncle Pat, the man who'd set me up for this political ambush. I sighed; six or seven big ones. I looked beyond the members to the far wall, where my four 'friendly spirits' stood smiling and beaming at me. I'd seen them when I'd first entered the hall, talking quietly amongst themselves. Those four ghosts have come to know me about as well as Uncle Pat does. Maybe better. And one thing they all know is that, for all my bluff and bluster, I am what is known as a 'soft touch.' Cripes, Americans, a well-written thirty-second advertisement for long distance telephone service can make me weepy, with thirteen seconds to spare.

I sighed some more. While sighing, my little ol' wheels were turning. I cleared my throat and told the members of the Conservative Democratic Party that, if they would accept a few 'conditions,' then I would accept their nominations. I laid out four conditions. There was some grumbling and sputtering, but when it was clear I wouldn't budge, they accepted all four of them. Then I gave an acceptance speech for the 2012 nomination, off the cuff. I don't mind telling you, Americans, it brought the house down.

So now I am running for president - twice. I am not, you Americans, running for president because I want to be your president. I do not want to be your president anymore, because I have other fish to fry these days - many, many fish, Americans - and I've neither the time nor the inclination to be your president. So why am I running? I'm running because I am a patriot, because I love my country, and because you Americans need me. You don't realize that, yet, but you will.

Americans, Americans... I have great faith in you.