It all began in sixth grade. I was running for student council and gave a rousing speech about why I deserved the position, explaining with passion how I would fight for longer recesses and better cafeteria pizza. I was followed by Holly Colburn who gave a similar speech with one key difference. At the end of hers, she opened her backpack and threw candy to the entire class. They cheered and I lost in a landslide.

Political Lesson #1: Voters Love Free Stuff.

By the time I ran for student body president in 8th grade, the administration had barred outright bribery. Bummer. But the battle scars from my previous attempt taught me to avoid trying win on logic or merit. Instead, I leveraged all my hopes on another tactic: Having a good tagline.

You don’t lead with a tagline, of course, you must build to it. Therefore I had to fill a few minutes of my big speech with a list of impossible-to-keep campaign promises. “Milli Vanilli in concert!” “Laser tag in the gym!” “Mountain Dew in the vending machines!” And once I had my pubescent peers worked into a lather, I dropped a catchphrase they couldn’t forget:

“Don’t Be Snobby, Vote for Bobby.”

In all honesty, I only picked it because it rhymed. But it worked on a deeper level. Despite being an upper-middle-class kid, suddenly every voter saw me as an everyman. Sure, my dad was a judge who may have thrown Uncle T.J. in prison, but wait till you see the new basketballs I’m going to get us for the blacktop!

Riding an anti-snobbery populist wave, I finally made it. Bobby Smiley was elected president.

Or so I thought.

Because, as I would soon learn, the girl who came in second place had a trick up her sleeve: her mom was the superintendent of schools.

And so somewhere between election day and inauguration day, there was a backroom negotiation. And when the principal’s door finally swung opened, I was informed that despite a decisive victory, our middle school would have co-presidents.

Political Lesson #2: Who You Know Beats Who You Are.

Thankfully, in 9th grade my co-president split for another high school, and it looked like my political career might finally take flight.

But I was not about to rush into things. No, sir. This time I paused, built relationships with fellow students, and made sure that none of them were related to people whose names regularly appeared on yard signs. Confident that my time had come, I updated my campaign promises and my tagline—“Don’t Be a Snob, Vote for Bob”—and was duly elected sophomore class president.

Unfortunately, it turned out there aren’t many responsibilities for a sophomore class president. Just one, in fact. Planning the big fall dance. I was excited. I named it the “Fall Frenzy.” It was going to be leaf-themed. Yes, leaves.

You’ll be shocked to know that no one in the school wanted to go. And facing the real possibility of losing a serious chunk of change, our vice principal pulled the plug on the dance without giving me any warning.

Political Lesson #3: It’s Always About Money.

Political Lesson #4: Don’t Use Leaves as a High School Dance Theme.

Despite all this pain and heartache, I arrived at college still knowing exactly what I wanted to do with my life:

1. I was going to major in politics.

2. And I was going to return home and become mayor of my little town that didn’t like leaves.

And when I did, all those classmates who didn’t vote for me in sixth grade and the superintendent who divided my power in 8th grade and my high school vice principal who didn’t want to lose gobs of money would finally see the greatness that had been hiding right in front of their eyes all those years.

Then I took my first politics class.

I hated it.

I hated reading Aristotle. I hated discussing Hobbes. I hated debating policy. I hated long meetings where you have to say things like, “I motion that we move to order to close the new business on the old business regarding blah blah blah…” I hated the thought of wearing a suit every day. And I hated the idea of having to beg friends for money every few years to keep my job.

Frankly, I hated the whole dumb enterprise.

And I had no backup plan.

But in between hating my politics classes, I kept my sanity by writing for my college’s legendary humor magazine.

Compared to parliamentary procedure, our creative process was beautifully chaotic. Typically, once a month we stayed up for two days straight pitching ideas and telling jokes and laughing and then about six hours before the issue had to be at the printer, we buckled down and put together 20 pages of the funniest material I’d ever read in my life.

It was my favorite thing about college.

While I had no clue how to begin a career in comedy writing, I knew I couldn’t keep pursuing politics. And when I returned to school after winter break of my sophomore year, I walked to the registrar’s office and switched my major to English.

Not long after this, I went to our magazine’s office to do some work and saw that we had a voicemail. I hit play. It was a message from a Hollywood literary agent named Norman Kurland. Mr. Kurland was an alumni and former magazine staffer who had gone on to great success, selling scripts like The Big Chill, Romancing the Stone, and many others. He said he was calling to see if any undergrads would ever want to write for TV or film and left his phone number.

I wrote down the number and nervously gave Mr. Kurland a call. I’ll never forget the conversation. I told him that I had received his voicemail and wanted to be a writer in Hollywood. There was a long silence. And then, finally, he replied. “I’ve been leaving messages on that answering machine for twenty years and you’re the first person to ever call me back.”

There is a hard to explain clarity when God breaks through. It grabs hold of a deeper place than the affirmation of the masses or a landslide electoral victory ever could. What seemed impossible to envision two minutes earlier suddenly became the most obvious path in the world.

But the political lessons I learned from that season of life are just as true as ever. Speaking of which, I have a new book called DEAD MEAT coming out this month. If you like heartwarming stories and good laughs, don’t be snobby, buy a copy for Bobby!

My new book DEAD MEAT lands NOVEMBER 17th! Check out the trailer!

Clint has too many TV credits to list them all, but most recently appeared in the Netflix series The Hawk with Will Ferrell and with Larry David in HBO’s Life, Larry, and the Pursuit of Unhappiness. And now he’s slumming it with us!

Grateful for Clint’s time and talent and bringing this absurd character to life for Halloween. Enjoy!

DEAD MEAT, Bobby’s new book, lands November 17th!

DEAD MEAT!

So Nickie started tapping away with her acrylics on her Android and said the largest skeleton available for public purchase in the United States was only six feet tall.

Six.

It was an injustice, frankly.

And then before I could even think, a voice spoke from deep within my being. Like it wasn’t even me speaking. And I said, “The skeleton needs to be twelve feet tall and we’re gonna mass produce them.”

Now of course, despite the fact what I’d said was clearly a divinely appointed idea, Nickie immediately started shooting holes in it:

How you gonna ship it?

Where are people gonna store it??

Won’t it cost a fortune????

But I wasn’t scared. Like before, the answers were already on my tongue:

One, it’ll come in the biggest cardboard box you’ve ever seen.

Two, where people store it is not my problem.

And three, no one will consider how much it costs because it’s the biggest damn skeleton they’ve ever seen!

Course I needed a manufacturer to make the blessed thing. Nickie and I are big Shark Tankers so I quickly put together a list of potential candidates. The first outfit said anything bigger than nine feet was “physically impossible.” The second guy said they could go twelve but it would blow over in the wind and kill people. The third dude said, “Can we add creepy green eyes that light up at night and give children nightmares?”

He was hired on the spot.

Then we got to work. Making giant pelvis molds. Piling up plastic femurs. Arguing about whether it should have teeth and if it could spit blood. And by the following September, we had 20,000 units sitting in Home Depots from San Diego to Bar Harbor.

I love this country.

How’d we do that first Halloween? Let’s just say Nickie was driving a Range Rover by Christmas.

So as we approach another October 31st, I just wanted to say THANK YOU, AMERICA. I had faith in you.

Which is why I also want you to let you know we’re in the final design stage of our new product. Something extra special. And it’ll be ready to ship by Easter.

The biggest darn Jesus you’ve ever seen.

Thank you to my friend Clint Culp for lending his voice to the audio version of this story. Clint has been in too many TV shows and commercials to count but most recently appeared in the Netflix series The Hawk with Will Ferrell and on HBO’s Life, Larry, and the Pursuit of Unhappiness with Larry David.

My new book DEAD MEAT lands November 17th!

DEAD MEAT

DEAD MEAT: Right-Side-Up Stories for an Upside-Down World will be available for purchase November 17th through Amazon, B&N.com, or your favorite indie bookstore.

That’s right, award-winning writer Bobby Smiley is back with comedic vengeance, bringing a new collection of hilariously flawed characters to twelve new tales that will stir your soul and knock you upside-down. Or are they knocking you right-side-up?

AND… for a limited time Bobby is giving away a batch of ADVANCED FREE COPIES. Just comment “Dead Meat” on this post and he will send the e-book straight to your inbox with a personal note!

Trust me, you’ve never seen a book launch like this one. Stay tuned for all the fun and absurdity.

(cover art by Jiro Tamase)

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