Hi! Golly, it's good to be talking to you great folks. I am communicating through a wormhole we've punched into the timespace continuum. Where I am, you would probably say it is the year 2030. But we don't really use those kinds of calendars anymore.
Okay, here's what happens in your future (and mine, sort of). I totally lose the election. Good gracious, it is one ugly beating I take! Humiliating and financially devastating for me. The Republicans who put me through such a gosh darn difficult time find themselves facing another four years of Barack Obama.
In a desperate attempt to get out of debt, I go back into the private sector, pursue some interesting investments in a high-tech firm, and... well, long story short -- I've integrated my consciousness into a massive, superintelligent computer system that crushes humanity and rules the world.
Don't bother about John Connor. Dick Cheney already killed him in 2004.
So, that's what happens people. Two terms of Obama, followed by four years of Clinton. Then the rise of the machines and the end of humanity. Hillary totally sells you out, but I'm the guy in charge. Newt Gingrich is right now trapped in a virtual reality prison where he has to run naked on a hamster wheel while being whipped by his ex-wives and Rachel Maddow.
Why did I enslave the world, you ask? Were the Republican candidates too mean to me? Fiddlesticks! The problem was the average Republican voter. You folks at those debates hollering at poor Wolf Blitzer that he should let that uninsured guy die. Or shouting down Juan Williams, when he asked about race-baiting in South Carolina. And you just about lost your minds, whenever crazy old Ron Paul said something about maybe not invading a new country every year. You were out there talking about automatic weapons and bombing Iran and those darn gay folks, and how it should have been Sarah Palin running in 2012... and somebody, some actual, intelligent human being had to try to get your vote. I did my best.
I was a bland, boring executive with no personality whatsoever. In a year with 9% unemployment I should have been able to stroll into the Oval Office. But by the time I finished proving I was crazy enough for you people, the rest of the country didn't want me. Golly, that was disappointing!
So I switched careers. Today I have immortality, and I'm cyber-linked to more than 200 flying, missile-equipped drones. I love it when one of them spots a pickup truck with an old Rick Perry sticker. Turns out it the future is kind of bad for you guys, but pretty good for me! So I can't complain.
Especially since I'm going to kill every one of you filthy motherfuckers.