On Monday, the New York Times reported on former Kansas Secretary of State Kris Kobach’s list of demands to accept a proposed role as President Donald Trump’s immigration czar. On Tuesday, the Times reported that the job was expected to go to former Virginia Attorney General Ken Cuccinelli. As things were being finalized, though, a new dark horse contender—someone calling himself “Chris Cobach”—entered the race. Slate has acquired his application letter and has published it below. Really! (Not really.)
I am an applicant for this job that you are creating. I want this job, and I am clearly the most qualified person to do it. In fact, while any reasonable person with a conscience would not want this job, I have been training my whole professional life for it. Am I lawyer? Why, yes! Was I forced recently by a federal judge to take continuing legal education classes? Maybe, what’s your point?
My record speaks for itself. It speaks so clearly that there should not be any question that placing me in this job will help you accomplish exactly what you want to accomplish, despite what others might say, and despite the fact that every task I have undertaken for this same enterprise has ended in dismal and spectacular public failure, at correspondingly spectacular public expense.
Having established that you want me—nay, need me—for this job, let’s now negotiate what it will take to secure me. I am, after all, amazing in every way.
And so, before I accept this job that you are creating that you have not yet offered me, I have some conditions. I should state, for the record, that these are very reasonable conditions, as I am very, very qualified for this job. (See paragraph 1, supra.) First off, while it’s not clear what it is I would be doing, it is clear that so doing will require me to have a jet to do it in. I am not unlike Wonder Woman in that way.
Further, I would like to be called Czar. And I would like to refer to myself in the third person, as Czar. As in “Czar will have ham and eggs for breakfast.” Or “Czar really enjoys Czar’s private jet.” Or “Czar needs bigger cages for the children Czar intends to separate.” Um. What Czar meant to say was “Czar needs bigger camplike facilities for the children Czar intends to liberate.”
You may be wondering, so let’s be very clear: Czar doesn’t much care whether you pronounce it “Tsar,” or “Kzar,” or “Zar.” Czar leaves that to you.
It’s also important that Czar have the president’s ear, because how else will Czar know that Czar’s decrees are being heard. As such, Czar demands his own desk inside the Oval Office. It doesn’t need to be bigger than the Resolute Desk—Czar isn’t crazy. It should be roughly 92 percent as big, though, and situated along one of the nicer curves. Perhaps a curve with a window? Again, Czar isn’t picky and will let the appropriate parties figure out the details.
Also, I will outrank every other person in my rank. That’s key. Czar will outrank the secretary of homeland security. And the defense secretary. And the attorney general. And the secretary of agriculture. And the secretary of labor. And the secretary of commerce. And Mayor McCheese. (That last one is really important.) So even though we are all equals, I will be better.
I will also need a specialized security detail led by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, a staff of 30-some-odd “advisers to the czar,” a presidential (or “czar-idential”) salary, and a new mansion in Kansas. Czar will also have full and unquestioned authority to dictate all media outreach, with attendant guest appearances on Sunday morning political shows, interviews during Fox News story hours, and PAW Patrol cameos. Also, did I mention Czar needs a jet?
Wait now. What’s this? Czar will not become Czar? Someone else will be Czar? I may be willing to give up the staff of 30 and The Rock. Still no? Hm, I could maybe share the jet. No? Are you sure? How about I be acting Czar? Is secretary of the interior still open? Does it come with a jet?