Worst American Birthdays, vol. XVI

Rudy Giuliani, the twice-divorced ex-mayor and erstwhile drag queen of New York City, celebrates his 63rd birthday today as he marches onward in his quest to become the nation’s chief authoritarian. As President of the United States, Giuliani would likely go farther than any of his predecessors in banishing squeegee operators, panhandlers, porn merchants and ferrets from the surface of the earth; he would then offer persuasive (if statistically spurious) claims to the effect that his policies had reduced terrorism while raising property values and stimulating tourism.

Although “America’s Mayor” has not followed some of his rivals in promising to “double Gitmo” should he ascend to higher office in 2008, Giuliani would likely be more inclined than other candidates to sufficiently equip Camp Delta with the toilet plungers our interrogators so desperately need to protect America from further attack. As well, white Americans could sleep peacefully each night, secure in their knowledge that dangerous, wallet-wielding Guineans (like Amadou Diallo) and drug-deal-refusing off-duty Haitian security guards (like Patrick Dorismond) will not live to see the next sunrise. If nothing else, President Giuliani could rally the nation’s morale by converting his old Street Crimes Unit into a global special ops force, complete with t-shirts — just as in the good old days — announcing that the U.S. “owns the night” and that “there is no hunting like the hunting of man.” Perhaps Giuliani’s former business partner, police commissioner and dear friend Bernard Kerik — should he avoid prosecution and imprisonment for an arc of felonies reaching years into the past — could renew his bid to preside over the Department of Homeland Security.

Whatever the future holds for Rudy, however, one thing is clear. If this nation is to persevere in the Global War Against People Who Resemble in Some Vague Way the People Who Carried Out the 9-11 Attacks, we need to be as well-prepared and coordinated as the city of New York was on that fateful morning in 2001.