"Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the attractiveness of others."

--Oscar Wilde

A coalition of conservatives has expressed outrage over the Vicki Charmaine Bunch For City Council campaign poster. Have they forgotten the plunging neckline Minnie Ledbetter sported just last year at her daughter Fifi's coming out party--with the full blessing of the Wednesday Bible study?

They're probably just jealous. Excuse me if I haven't let myself go like some people--people who find it necessary to leave catty messages in the middle of the night, which I can't help hearing as I lie awake formulating my positions on global warming and arms reduction.

When I decided to run for city council I vowed to run an issues-oriented campaign. Only a fool would expect people to vote for him just because he's cute. As a matter of fact, the only cute politician I can think of--Warren G. Harding--is long since dead, so you can see where it got him.

There's a lot more to Vicki Charmaine Bunch than meets the eye. Speaking of which, you would think political paparazzi had learned their lesson after their recent tongue lashing by President Clinton. But only a week after Bill and Hilary's swimsuit shot, a video of Sonny and me down at the tank shows up on CNN!

I extend this plea to the media: Can we please stick to the issues?

After all, it's not everyday a person who is practically a genius runs for city office. Scientists are heralding my plan to erect a gigantic Plexiglass dome (hot pink, if possible) over the entire metroplex. The need for this became apparent as I drove home from work. Blinded by the sun, I barely dodged a bed spring in the middle of the road and spilled strawberry shake all over the front seat. With the dome, sunglasses would become amusing, obsolete oddities.

Then there's my most glorious plan, the concept that defines my candidacy. Someday I hope to be remembered as the visionary who changed the city logo from the cow's head to the unicorn.

Most of you are familiar with my positions on Bosnia and the Middle East. Oh--and same sex marriage. Like I tell Sonny, when a man does the same old thing night after night, it gets pretty darn boring.

But I wouldn't hold that against a fellow, especially one that votes for me. In fact, I intend to fairly represent all my constituents, and not just the two-legged variety. How unfair it is that our furry brethren are excluded from the dentist's office, the couture department at Jezebel's House of Style, and that elegant cigar bar. If they wore clothes like anal retentive humans, you couldn't tell them from children who, face it, cause a lot more damage. So let's open our hearts, as well as our public and private spaces, to our four-footed friends.

Now let's get down to business. The almighty dollar. TV preachers aren't the only ones who can promise you a high paying job if you send a cash donation. Any seed you plant in my war chest will be rewarded tenfold (unless your faith is lacking). [Example: 1 seed x 10 = 10 seeds; 1 pit bull x 10 = 10 pit bulls; $1,000,000 x 10 = $10,000,000!]

You line my pockets, I'll make sure you get money, seeds, whatever in spades. Or, at least a special rag, like Pastor Robert Tilton once sent the faithful. Anybody who sends a check to Bunch headquarters will receive a piece of my old bathrobe, the one with avocado stains. If we run out, there's Sonny's bowling shirt.

Look at it as my way of saying thanks.