Friends, allow me to have a few moments of your time and introduce to you a very close and personal friend of mine.  He is not much older than you or I (he's 35 this January), he's had some of the very same experiences as you or I (not being able to get anywhere with the hottest girls in school, smoking pot and reading Camus while everyone else had fun on Saturday night), and he's struggled to achieve his life-long goal, almost exactly like that you or I strive for (drive-thru liquor stores).  He's faced adversity at every turn (getting fired from Pizza Hut), endured his share of personal crisis (no Cinemax offered by his local cable provider) and even experienced sexism (getting turned down by all his female co-workers).  But he has persevered and now he needs your support (preferably in the form of large checks).  Ladies and gentleman, I have the pleasure of introducing the next president of the United States... JEREMY TITWIELDER!

Jeremy was born on January... well, he's not sure what his exact birth date is, but he was born sometime in January 1969 in Columbus, Ohio.  Jeremy's mother Lucretia was a member of the SDS, the Black Panthers, the White Panthers, the Symbonise Liberation Front, and the Future Farmers of America.  His father, Ted, was a high-school dropout who taught shop class at his alma mater.  Jeremy was often on the road growing up, as Lucretia was charged with the federal crime of introducing Richard Nixon to an actual black person in the spring of 1972, and he learned to read by studying the back covers of Santana records.  Jeremy was amazingly proficient in Spanish at the age of four, but he was forced to learn "the white devil's tongue" when his mother fled to Cuba and he returned to live with Ted.  Jeremy adjusted poorly to his new surroundings, as none of his classmates wanted to "rap" about "the cosmic entities of light" that he believed were "trapped by the white man" on the front of the Quaker Oats cereal container.

Eventually, he fell in with "the wrong crowd": preppies, uptight squares, and conservative right-wing ding-dongs (I will not lie about this, though it may hurt Jeremy's standings in the polls: he even signed a petition to reinstate Nixon as president and "grand emperor of America" in 1981).  But Jeremy was saved by the discovery of something that has blessed us all, in some way or another: Pot.  Mary-G-uana, Weed, Grass.  The good stuff.

Jeremy threw off his conservative ways (though he held on to a blue sports coat for sentimental reasons, and it made him look more respectable than your average hippie) and found Jesus... Stallone, a local drug dealer and philosopher who had attained the rank of "Wizard of Awesomeness" after several rounds of Dungeons and Dragons.  Stallone, who is Jeremy's campaign manager, describes him best: "Dude, he comes in my house one day.  I'm like, 'Hey man, what's you want?'  He asks me for some pot, so I sells him a good couple of tokes, and we've been tight ever since.  But we're not fags or nothing; there was that one time in '87, but otherwise we like the ladies pretty equally."

From his last-place graduation in 1989 (having been held back two years due to heavy pot use), Jeremy fell into a series of odd jobs, mostly concerned with evading the law.  Jeremy has traveled overseas a number of times (Colombia, Nicuaragua, El Salvador, Jamaica) and knows how to say "How much for a kilo?" in several languages.  Backpacking across Europe during the spring of 1994, Jeremy was arrested for lewd conduct with a sheep in France, but was cleared of any wrongdoing as the sheep in question was particularly naughty.  He returned to central Ohio in the spring of 1999 when the statute of limitations ran out on his misdemeanor possession charges from '95, and has resided at Jesus Stallone's crash pad since.

It was during a rather intense hashish-smoking session this past February (after being fired from Pizza Hut yet again), that Jeremy had an epiphany: he was going to be 35 the next year, and he'd always wondered what it'd be like to have several female interns performing his every beck and call.  "I think I'll run for president," he told Jesus, who advised him to "let he who has never gotten stoned cast the first... uh, stone."

Jeremy's platform is simple: he is fairly liberal on racial matters ("I like Mexican chicks, what can I do?") but fiscally conservative ("How come it cost more to get blow from Paraguay than it does Brazil?  That's bullshit, there should just be one price, man!"). He is patriotic ("USA! We've got the best weed!") but not arrogant ("If I have to hear that muthafucker Lee Greenwood one more time....").  He is aware of the severity of our times ("Man, that Ben Ladel dude bites!"), but not afraid to face the challenges ("I'd just stick a firecracker up his ass, like we did to little Stevie back in March... that was sooooo cool!"). I hope to be bringing you more news from the campaign trial, as Jeremy campaigns on the Green Party ticket (well, we haven't worked out the details as yet... they won't return our phone calls, so technically he's an independent.) and meets hundreds of potential people like yourselves.  Don't let the white devils continue their Nazi-like restriction of pot from our nation's schools... VOTE TITWIELDER IN '04

Thank (puff, cough) you very much,

Larry J. Learned
Americans for Tit '04

- Trevor