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Story I've been working on; one of those fun ones to write, where you can just keep adding on sections in any direction. I've wanted for awhile to write a story about a Messiah (much like Richard Bach's awesome book Illusions), but writing as the Messiah poses some natural difficulties, so I decided to go the other direction--a man who never lets anyone forget he's not the messiah!
Feel free to play with this as you like; what I'm posting isn't complete, just what I have so far.
I can't figure out how to upload the document (computers aren't my thing, be happy I figured out how to post!), so it's just be the text below:
“I am not the messiah.”
“Uh, okay?”
“I am not a god of any kind.”
“That…umm…”
Dan was sitting at a bar, previously alone, when this man came right up to him and started a very abrupt conversation.
The man continued.
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
The man wasn’t joking, it seemed, or doing anything strange. He didn’t appear to be drunk, or otherwise in a condition to mess with his perception of reality. As far as Dan could tell, this man was being completely sincere, honest, and surprisingly open.
Still, Dan was dubious of this whole situation. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Of course I can’t actually become a messiah, or a god of any kind. But what about all the things that a messiah does? Think about it!” The man was getting genuinely excited, but still somewhat calm. “All the things a messiah does, besides the miracles. Tells mysterious bits of wisdom, talks in strange sorts of stories, causes massive social upheaval, dies a memorable death, is talked about for centuries to come, and leaves the world a better place. That’s what I want to do! That’s who I want to be!”
The man was smiling, happy to have told his life dream, as Dan sat for several minutes, just staring at this man. Is he for real? He seems to be.
The bartender walked over at that moment; a large, friendly man, the kind who serves office workers in the late afternoon, not the kind who breaks up fights at night. “Hey, folks! Anything I can get you?”
The man, known only as ‘not the messiah’, replied, “Got a horse?”
“I am not the messiah,” the man began again, this time, with a man at a horse barn.
“Uh, that’s good to know?” the horse barn man replied.
“I am not a god of any kind.”
“Well, now that that’s out of the way, would you like to ride a horse? $20 for an hour, a hard price to beat these days.”
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was. And yes, I’ll take a horse.”
The horse barn man laughed. “Most unique way to start a conversation I’ve ever heard! Normally people just start some boring small talk about the weather or the latest hockey game. But, not being the messiah, and thinking it would be cool to be a god…I think we’ll get along quite well. Call me Stevie, by the way.”
Not the messiah was delighted. “A good price for a horse & a man who likes interesting conversation! Today will be a good day.”
A muscular guy, obviously of Russian descent, and with a bit of a Southern drawl, Stevie laughed again. “Well, there’s no one else around for a ride, and it takes just about an hour, so I think we’ll have a good time.” He led Not the messiah to the horses. “Say, you ever rode a horse before?”
Not the messiah scoped out the horses; five of them, tied to a fence, a little tired in the hot summer sun of Indiana, looking at yet another stranger who wants to ride them. “No, but I think it would be awesome. Someone who’s not the messiah, but kind of could be, riding a horse from place to place…a good way to get a bit of the public eye, don’t you think?”
Stevie laughed again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So why do you want to be a messiah, anyway? Seems like an awfully stressful job, bein’ God and all.”
Stevie helped Not the messiah get on his newfound horse, named Douglas. “Well, obviously I can’t just declare myself a god, and make it happen. I’m still a human, as powerless & as guaranteed to die as anyone else. Still, being someone that people come to for answers, for wisdom, for aid like that, and being able to travel & talk & live in other people’s homes for the price of stories would be a rather interesting way to live. I feel like modern life has gotten too boring, and we need somebody to shake it up a little.”
Not the messiah made it on top of Douglas, after almost sliding off. Stevie adjusted the stirrups to match Not the messiah’s feet, then mounted his own horse, Snoopy.
“Well, I can say for sure that you’ve shaken up my day a little!” Stevie laughed again. “And I guess travelin’ on somebody else’s dime does have some appeal, ‘specially if they want you to be there.”
“Whenever you’re staying at another man’s home, you always have to make it worth his while. Some people are better at doing chores, some people are better at financial contributions…but as for myself, I think most people have a deep hunger for deep conversation, someone to talk to about the world and their lives and their troubles, and it’s just not getting fulfilled. All we have is quick, quick, quick. We like microwaves, because they’re quick. We like the news to be in little bites, because they’re quick. We like conversations to be limited to ‘Hi, I’m fine’, because it’s quick. But all of this leaves out the deep satisfaction in taking your time. Taking an hour at the barbeque grill leaves time for conversation, backgammon, and taking in the beauty of the world. Reading full news stories gives us a deeper understanding of the world around us, leaves us less susceptible to manipulation, and makes it all more interesting. Likewise, having actually deep & meaningful conversation grants us a certain depth into our own lives & worldviews that just doesn’t happen anywhere else.”
Stevie smiled, nodded, and led the horses down a path; Stevie and Not the messiah, Snoopy and Douglas. “You’re already talking like a messiah, in what you’re trying to say, but you’re not saying it in brief enough sentences.”
“I think you’re missing the point…”
“No, really. You’re saying good things, but if you want to be seen as a messiah, you’ll need one-sentence proverbs, things more easily remembered, so people can tell them to each other, and the depth you’re talking about can come from long times spent pondering your words, and figuring out how it applies to our lives. Watch out for that patch of grass coming up, Douglas is going to want to stop an’ eat it. Pull up on the reigns, and he’ll keep going.”
Not the messiah did exactly that, and the two horses & two men went down the path, deeper into a forest. Birds were all around, chirping their various songs, and somewhere nearby a stream sent water across many rocks.
“What about this?”, Not the messiah began. “It’s good that we have to wait, because waiting gives us an opportunity to appreciate what’s already here.”
“Better,” Stevie replied, steering his horse away from a tree. “But it needs to sound more proverbial. Ah, you’ll get it eventually.”
The men smirked at each other, and enjoyed the rest of the ride.
“I am not the messiah.”
“I am very confused,” the woman replied.
“I am not a god of any kind.”
“Did you really have to tell this to someone who’s going to church?”
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
“Excuse me?”
The woman was just trying to walk down the sidewalk to her church when this black haired, blue eyed man decided to show up & start spouting off nonsense.
“Think about it! What does a messiah do?”
“If you’d like to find out, mass starts in 10 minutes.”
He smiled. “You’re talking about one messiah in particular, and of course, I can’t actually be a messiah like that. But think about it—what does a messiah do?”
She glared at him. “A messiah would tell you off for trying to take the place of God.”
He smiled again. “No, I think a real messiah would be able to listen to what I’m saying, and not jump to illogical conclusions.”
She was becoming increasingly frustrated. “Look, sir, I appreciate your interest in God, but I really think you should be going now.”
“So much for telling the truth with love.”
“Excuse me?”
“Doesn’t your Paul guy tell you to tell the truth with love?”
“Only people willing to listen to the truth,” she fumed, obviously wanting to leave this crazy man and get to church.
“I thought James told you not to judge.”
“Not unless you can already tell that the person’s not going to listen.” Why didn’t he just leave already?
“’Judge not, lest ye be judged. Behold! The judge is standing at the door.’”
“Look, mister, just get out of my face.”
“Blessed are the—”
“GET OUT!!!”
“—peacemakers…”
She stormed off, perfectly content to be away from this crazy blasphemer, to go worship her loving, accepting god.
Not the messiah stood on the sidewalk, perplexed by this woman’s behavior. He enjoyed reading holy books of all religions, but had found the holy book of Christianity to be especially interesting. He expected Christians to be the same.
There’s a lot about messiah-ing that he still needed to learn.
“I am not the messiah.”
“Um, sir?”
“I am not a god of any kind.”
“Sir, you called the IT help desk of Trine University.”
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
“Sir, do you have any computer issues.”
“No, not particularly.”
“Then I’ll have to ask you to get off the phone. This is a university with 5,000 students, and we need to keep the phone lines free for people who actually need our help.”
“Fair enough. Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
Weirdo.
“I am not the messiah.”
The mime stared at him.
“I am not a god of any kind.”
The mime continued staring.
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
What else could he do? The mime stared, with a confused look.
“What do you think about that?”
The mime raised a familiar finger.
“Oh.”
The mime nodded.
“I feel like this is the time when I should say something wise.”
The mime gave him a look. You think?
Not the messiah thought for a bit. “Words are helpful for communicating ideas, but the only truly important messages can be communicated with only body language.”
The mime raised the familiar finger again.
“Yes! Exactly!”
“Try harder next time,” the mime replied.
“I am not the messiah.”
“Uhh...”
“I am not a god of any kind.”
She laughed a nervous laugh. “Uh, of all the first dates I’ve been on, this is the most unique conversation starter I’ve ever heard...”
He smiled. “But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
She laughed again, a little less nervous. “Um, mister, uh...”
As usual, he smiled. “Just call me ‘Not the messiah’.”
She looked confused. “What?”
He smiled again. “Tell me, Carol what purpose does a name serve?”
“Well, uhh...” she thought a bit. Is this a trick question? It seems too basic. Besides, a good answer should do her well. He was kind of cute. “Uhh, so we know who we’re talking about?”
“Exactly!” he said, smiling. “Identification. Names serve the purpose of distinguishing us from one another. So, calling me ‘Not the messiah’ does distinguish me from everyone else, yes?”
She laughed. “Well, I can’t say I know too many other people called ‘Not the messiah’...”
“Really, it’s a more useful name than anything else. I could be Steve, or Ray, or maybe even Rodney, but all of these names have thousands of people worldwide! But ‘Not the messiah’...that’s unique!”
“I’ll say it is.” Carol was starting to like this man, this not-messiah, but she wasn’t quite sure why.
“So,” he began, shifting his posture. “What do you like to talk about?”
“Umm...normally I begin with the usual pleasantries...’I’m Carol’, ‘How are you?’, and let the conversation flow from there.”
“Fair enough. Hi, Carol! What’s your name?”
I am not the messiah, Not the messiah wrote down, to start off a fresh new notebook, soon to be filled with big ideas & deep thought. I am not a god of any kind…
Not the messiah sat & pondered for several minutes, trying to understand what he was doing.
“I know I’m not the messiah,” he thought aloud, with no one but a tabby cat to hear. “I know I’m not, and never will be, a god of any kind. So why do I put so much effort into being one?”
“I am not the messiah.”
The man looked sternly at him. “Prove it.”
“What?”
“Prove it.”
“Uhh...” Not the messiah was suddenly the confused half of the conversation. “Do I really have to?”
“You can’t walk around, spouting out a dramatic statement like that, and not be prepared to defend it! So, prove that you’re not the messiah!”
“Well, umm...” Confused, very confused, for the first time since before he started this whole ‘Not the messiah’ business, “I will, umm, not move that mailbox over there! A messiah could move that mailbox, but I can’t!”
The man stared suspiciously. “I don’t recall any messiahs moving mailboxes. Doesn’t seem like it would be something that would mark you as being from God. I don’t recall any prophet saying ‘The Messiah will move mailboxes to please some random dude on the street!’. Try harder.”
“Ah, umm...are you sick?”
“No...”
“Well, if you were, I wouldn’t be able to heal you! There! I’m not the messiah!”
“Or a doctor.”
“Well...”
“And isn’t the whole healing thing based on faith in the Messiah, anyway? What if you are the messiah, and I just don’t believe in you?”
Not the messiah was feeling very uncomfortable.
“Look, Mr. Not-Messiah, I’m just trying to tell you that you’re getting yourself into a very dangerous situation. You go around everywhere, declaring yourself Not-the-messiah, it could be fun, I guess. But pretty soon, people will start taking you seriously, and not in the way you like. If you would’ve kept your trap shut, everyone would’ve known you’re not the messiah, but since you keep goin’ around and making people think you are, you’re about to run into some issues.”
“I’m telling people I’m not--”
“Not the messiah, I know, and the rate you’re going, everyone’s going to know within the year! But it’s like the classic example of Don’t think about elephants. If I tell you not to think about elephants, what are you going to think about? Elephants. Same idea here; you keep goin’ around and declaring yourself Not-the-messiah, and pretty soon, people will start thinking you are. I’m just warning you—shut your face right now, and avoid all these problems, or go all the way if you really want to use this to make a difference.”
“And for this year’s presidential race, we have a very unorthodox contestant!” The announcer for the Independents’ Presidential Debates was trying to hype up the crowd for the most unusual candidate this nation has ever seen. “Without political experience, without business experience, a man only famous for declaring himself as, and I am not making this up, ‘Not the messiah’, has reached high popularity by the American voters everywhere!”
Feel free to play with this as you like; what I'm posting isn't complete, just what I have so far.
I can't figure out how to upload the document (computers aren't my thing, be happy I figured out how to post!), so it's just be the text below:
“I am not the messiah.”
“Uh, okay?”
“I am not a god of any kind.”
“That…umm…”
Dan was sitting at a bar, previously alone, when this man came right up to him and started a very abrupt conversation.
The man continued.
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
The man wasn’t joking, it seemed, or doing anything strange. He didn’t appear to be drunk, or otherwise in a condition to mess with his perception of reality. As far as Dan could tell, this man was being completely sincere, honest, and surprisingly open.
Still, Dan was dubious of this whole situation. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Of course I can’t actually become a messiah, or a god of any kind. But what about all the things that a messiah does? Think about it!” The man was getting genuinely excited, but still somewhat calm. “All the things a messiah does, besides the miracles. Tells mysterious bits of wisdom, talks in strange sorts of stories, causes massive social upheaval, dies a memorable death, is talked about for centuries to come, and leaves the world a better place. That’s what I want to do! That’s who I want to be!”
The man was smiling, happy to have told his life dream, as Dan sat for several minutes, just staring at this man. Is he for real? He seems to be.
The bartender walked over at that moment; a large, friendly man, the kind who serves office workers in the late afternoon, not the kind who breaks up fights at night. “Hey, folks! Anything I can get you?”
The man, known only as ‘not the messiah’, replied, “Got a horse?”
“I am not the messiah,” the man began again, this time, with a man at a horse barn.
“Uh, that’s good to know?” the horse barn man replied.
“I am not a god of any kind.”
“Well, now that that’s out of the way, would you like to ride a horse? $20 for an hour, a hard price to beat these days.”
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was. And yes, I’ll take a horse.”
The horse barn man laughed. “Most unique way to start a conversation I’ve ever heard! Normally people just start some boring small talk about the weather or the latest hockey game. But, not being the messiah, and thinking it would be cool to be a god…I think we’ll get along quite well. Call me Stevie, by the way.”
Not the messiah was delighted. “A good price for a horse & a man who likes interesting conversation! Today will be a good day.”
A muscular guy, obviously of Russian descent, and with a bit of a Southern drawl, Stevie laughed again. “Well, there’s no one else around for a ride, and it takes just about an hour, so I think we’ll have a good time.” He led Not the messiah to the horses. “Say, you ever rode a horse before?”
Not the messiah scoped out the horses; five of them, tied to a fence, a little tired in the hot summer sun of Indiana, looking at yet another stranger who wants to ride them. “No, but I think it would be awesome. Someone who’s not the messiah, but kind of could be, riding a horse from place to place…a good way to get a bit of the public eye, don’t you think?”
Stevie laughed again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So why do you want to be a messiah, anyway? Seems like an awfully stressful job, bein’ God and all.”
Stevie helped Not the messiah get on his newfound horse, named Douglas. “Well, obviously I can’t just declare myself a god, and make it happen. I’m still a human, as powerless & as guaranteed to die as anyone else. Still, being someone that people come to for answers, for wisdom, for aid like that, and being able to travel & talk & live in other people’s homes for the price of stories would be a rather interesting way to live. I feel like modern life has gotten too boring, and we need somebody to shake it up a little.”
Not the messiah made it on top of Douglas, after almost sliding off. Stevie adjusted the stirrups to match Not the messiah’s feet, then mounted his own horse, Snoopy.
“Well, I can say for sure that you’ve shaken up my day a little!” Stevie laughed again. “And I guess travelin’ on somebody else’s dime does have some appeal, ‘specially if they want you to be there.”
“Whenever you’re staying at another man’s home, you always have to make it worth his while. Some people are better at doing chores, some people are better at financial contributions…but as for myself, I think most people have a deep hunger for deep conversation, someone to talk to about the world and their lives and their troubles, and it’s just not getting fulfilled. All we have is quick, quick, quick. We like microwaves, because they’re quick. We like the news to be in little bites, because they’re quick. We like conversations to be limited to ‘Hi, I’m fine’, because it’s quick. But all of this leaves out the deep satisfaction in taking your time. Taking an hour at the barbeque grill leaves time for conversation, backgammon, and taking in the beauty of the world. Reading full news stories gives us a deeper understanding of the world around us, leaves us less susceptible to manipulation, and makes it all more interesting. Likewise, having actually deep & meaningful conversation grants us a certain depth into our own lives & worldviews that just doesn’t happen anywhere else.”
Stevie smiled, nodded, and led the horses down a path; Stevie and Not the messiah, Snoopy and Douglas. “You’re already talking like a messiah, in what you’re trying to say, but you’re not saying it in brief enough sentences.”
“I think you’re missing the point…”
“No, really. You’re saying good things, but if you want to be seen as a messiah, you’ll need one-sentence proverbs, things more easily remembered, so people can tell them to each other, and the depth you’re talking about can come from long times spent pondering your words, and figuring out how it applies to our lives. Watch out for that patch of grass coming up, Douglas is going to want to stop an’ eat it. Pull up on the reigns, and he’ll keep going.”
Not the messiah did exactly that, and the two horses & two men went down the path, deeper into a forest. Birds were all around, chirping their various songs, and somewhere nearby a stream sent water across many rocks.
“What about this?”, Not the messiah began. “It’s good that we have to wait, because waiting gives us an opportunity to appreciate what’s already here.”
“Better,” Stevie replied, steering his horse away from a tree. “But it needs to sound more proverbial. Ah, you’ll get it eventually.”
The men smirked at each other, and enjoyed the rest of the ride.
“I am not the messiah.”
“I am very confused,” the woman replied.
“I am not a god of any kind.”
“Did you really have to tell this to someone who’s going to church?”
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
“Excuse me?”
The woman was just trying to walk down the sidewalk to her church when this black haired, blue eyed man decided to show up & start spouting off nonsense.
“Think about it! What does a messiah do?”
“If you’d like to find out, mass starts in 10 minutes.”
He smiled. “You’re talking about one messiah in particular, and of course, I can’t actually be a messiah like that. But think about it—what does a messiah do?”
She glared at him. “A messiah would tell you off for trying to take the place of God.”
He smiled again. “No, I think a real messiah would be able to listen to what I’m saying, and not jump to illogical conclusions.”
She was becoming increasingly frustrated. “Look, sir, I appreciate your interest in God, but I really think you should be going now.”
“So much for telling the truth with love.”
“Excuse me?”
“Doesn’t your Paul guy tell you to tell the truth with love?”
“Only people willing to listen to the truth,” she fumed, obviously wanting to leave this crazy man and get to church.
“I thought James told you not to judge.”
“Not unless you can already tell that the person’s not going to listen.” Why didn’t he just leave already?
“’Judge not, lest ye be judged. Behold! The judge is standing at the door.’”
“Look, mister, just get out of my face.”
“Blessed are the—”
“GET OUT!!!”
“—peacemakers…”
She stormed off, perfectly content to be away from this crazy blasphemer, to go worship her loving, accepting god.
Not the messiah stood on the sidewalk, perplexed by this woman’s behavior. He enjoyed reading holy books of all religions, but had found the holy book of Christianity to be especially interesting. He expected Christians to be the same.
There’s a lot about messiah-ing that he still needed to learn.
“I am not the messiah.”
“Um, sir?”
“I am not a god of any kind.”
“Sir, you called the IT help desk of Trine University.”
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
“Sir, do you have any computer issues.”
“No, not particularly.”
“Then I’ll have to ask you to get off the phone. This is a university with 5,000 students, and we need to keep the phone lines free for people who actually need our help.”
“Fair enough. Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
Weirdo.
“I am not the messiah.”
The mime stared at him.
“I am not a god of any kind.”
The mime continued staring.
“But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
What else could he do? The mime stared, with a confused look.
“What do you think about that?”
The mime raised a familiar finger.
“Oh.”
The mime nodded.
“I feel like this is the time when I should say something wise.”
The mime gave him a look. You think?
Not the messiah thought for a bit. “Words are helpful for communicating ideas, but the only truly important messages can be communicated with only body language.”
The mime raised the familiar finger again.
“Yes! Exactly!”
“Try harder next time,” the mime replied.
“I am not the messiah.”
“Uhh...”
“I am not a god of any kind.”
She laughed a nervous laugh. “Uh, of all the first dates I’ve been on, this is the most unique conversation starter I’ve ever heard...”
He smiled. “But I think it would be rather interesting if I was.”
She laughed again, a little less nervous. “Um, mister, uh...”
As usual, he smiled. “Just call me ‘Not the messiah’.”
She looked confused. “What?”
He smiled again. “Tell me, Carol what purpose does a name serve?”
“Well, uhh...” she thought a bit. Is this a trick question? It seems too basic. Besides, a good answer should do her well. He was kind of cute. “Uhh, so we know who we’re talking about?”
“Exactly!” he said, smiling. “Identification. Names serve the purpose of distinguishing us from one another. So, calling me ‘Not the messiah’ does distinguish me from everyone else, yes?”
She laughed. “Well, I can’t say I know too many other people called ‘Not the messiah’...”
“Really, it’s a more useful name than anything else. I could be Steve, or Ray, or maybe even Rodney, but all of these names have thousands of people worldwide! But ‘Not the messiah’...that’s unique!”
“I’ll say it is.” Carol was starting to like this man, this not-messiah, but she wasn’t quite sure why.
“So,” he began, shifting his posture. “What do you like to talk about?”
“Umm...normally I begin with the usual pleasantries...’I’m Carol’, ‘How are you?’, and let the conversation flow from there.”
“Fair enough. Hi, Carol! What’s your name?”
I am not the messiah, Not the messiah wrote down, to start off a fresh new notebook, soon to be filled with big ideas & deep thought. I am not a god of any kind…
Not the messiah sat & pondered for several minutes, trying to understand what he was doing.
“I know I’m not the messiah,” he thought aloud, with no one but a tabby cat to hear. “I know I’m not, and never will be, a god of any kind. So why do I put so much effort into being one?”
“I am not the messiah.”
The man looked sternly at him. “Prove it.”
“What?”
“Prove it.”
“Uhh...” Not the messiah was suddenly the confused half of the conversation. “Do I really have to?”
“You can’t walk around, spouting out a dramatic statement like that, and not be prepared to defend it! So, prove that you’re not the messiah!”
“Well, umm...” Confused, very confused, for the first time since before he started this whole ‘Not the messiah’ business, “I will, umm, not move that mailbox over there! A messiah could move that mailbox, but I can’t!”
The man stared suspiciously. “I don’t recall any messiahs moving mailboxes. Doesn’t seem like it would be something that would mark you as being from God. I don’t recall any prophet saying ‘The Messiah will move mailboxes to please some random dude on the street!’. Try harder.”
“Ah, umm...are you sick?”
“No...”
“Well, if you were, I wouldn’t be able to heal you! There! I’m not the messiah!”
“Or a doctor.”
“Well...”
“And isn’t the whole healing thing based on faith in the Messiah, anyway? What if you are the messiah, and I just don’t believe in you?”
Not the messiah was feeling very uncomfortable.
“Look, Mr. Not-Messiah, I’m just trying to tell you that you’re getting yourself into a very dangerous situation. You go around everywhere, declaring yourself Not-the-messiah, it could be fun, I guess. But pretty soon, people will start taking you seriously, and not in the way you like. If you would’ve kept your trap shut, everyone would’ve known you’re not the messiah, but since you keep goin’ around and making people think you are, you’re about to run into some issues.”
“I’m telling people I’m not--”
“Not the messiah, I know, and the rate you’re going, everyone’s going to know within the year! But it’s like the classic example of Don’t think about elephants. If I tell you not to think about elephants, what are you going to think about? Elephants. Same idea here; you keep goin’ around and declaring yourself Not-the-messiah, and pretty soon, people will start thinking you are. I’m just warning you—shut your face right now, and avoid all these problems, or go all the way if you really want to use this to make a difference.”
“And for this year’s presidential race, we have a very unorthodox contestant!” The announcer for the Independents’ Presidential Debates was trying to hype up the crowd for the most unusual candidate this nation has ever seen. “Without political experience, without business experience, a man only famous for declaring himself as, and I am not making this up, ‘Not the messiah’, has reached high popularity by the American voters everywhere!”
