I've had it with Peter and Tim and and Nick and Richard pansy-assing around about running for mayor. They announce they're thinking about it, they think about it, and then they announce that running for mayor is just too scary or too expensive or that Greg is just too formidable an opponent. Christ, do these guys have one lonely little nut between the four of 'em?

Because you know what, you pansies? Greg Nickels isn't a popular guy. The first time he ran for reelection, Greg's opponent—Al Runte—got 35% of the vote. Runte wasn't qualified to be mayor and he was a loon and everyone knew it and yet 35% of the voters in this city picked the loon over Nickels. If Nickels had faced a serious challenger in 2005 he would've lost. That no one has the balls to challenge Nickels this time out tells us nothing about Greg and everything about the contents of Peter, Tim, Nick, and Richard's underpants. No balls.

Now I don't think I'm qualified to be mayor either and I'm a bit of a loon too. But here's the crucial difference between me and Al Runte: I know I'm not qualified to be mayor. Another difference: I don't want to be mayor. That's why my entire platform is this: If elected I pledge to resign the office of mayor 24 hours after I'm sworn in. During my short and glorious tenure I'll issue a few harmless proclamations ("Lap Dance Day"), challenge Portland's gay mayor to a Big Gay Sex Scandal Contest (I can put together a better sex scandal in 17 minutes than Sam Adams did in 17 days), and attempt to make good on my only other campaign promise. (I promise to build the original X-shaped, voter-approved monorail plan in 24 hours or resign in disgrace.) But after Lap Dance Day is over, and the monorail isn't completed in 24 hours, I will resign.

And that's where this part of the city charter comes into play:

B. MAYOR AND OTHER ELECTIVE OFFICES: If the office of Mayor shall become vacant, the President of the City Council shall become Mayor; provided, that said President may within five days of such vacancy decline the office of Mayor, in which event the City Council shall select one of its members to be Mayor in the manner provided for filling vacancies in other elective offices.

So not to worry, Seattle: If elected, I will not be your mayor long enough to do any real damage. My plan isn't perfect, I realize. Richard Conlin, who doesn't have the balls to challenge Nickels himself, is the President of the City Council and my resignation would make Conlin mayor, something Conlin doesn't have the balls to make himself. But I think my plan for a passive-aggressive coup d’état just might appeal to the city council's most passive-aggressive member, and people I like—hey, Dave Meinert!—are always telling me that Conlin isn't that bad. And after the last eight years I'll take not that bad over Greg.

Of course Peter Steinbrueck hasn't ruled out running for mayor. He's currently thinking about it and flouncing around like a douchebag. (Yes, douchebags flounce if you toss 'em right.) "Please send meeeeeeee three reasons why yoooooooooo think I should be mayor, Seattle..." Christ almighty, Peter, shit or get off our faces. Run or don't run. Want it or don't want it. But enough with the reluctant savior routine. We're not drafting your ass—in or out, kraut.

But if Peter doesn't announce—and announce soon—then I'm in it to win it, Seattle. For me, for you, for our children, for our children's children, for our children's children's children's pets, for growing our green economy, for Lap Dance Day, for a Big Gay Sex Scandal Contest, and for the la de da of it. I'm not qualified and I know it and I promise, if elected, to resign the day after I'm sworn in and make that chickenshit Conlin mayor.

A post on how you can help get my name on the ballot later in the day.