Mike Ritchey
Mike Ritchey


A month, six weeks back, I announced my candidacy for POTUS. After all, spring is the suicide season.

I — wisely, I think, though anyone with one eye and half sense would surely disagree — have taken the campaign underground, out of the public eye. Stealth has become what my candidacy is all about.

Without fanfare, for instance, Deb Callihan agreed to be my campaign manager, so long as I promised not to tell anybody. I promise. I’m a man of my word.



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