Look: I watch Barack work all the time. Sometimes, he doesn't even know I'm watching him work because I'm underneath the desk or standing on a toilet and literally peering over the stall. Or sometimes I'm wearing a lamp shade and leaning in the corner of the Oval Office, real quiet-like. Anyway, after all my watching, in the morning and afternoon and evening and late, late, late at night, I can tell you that nobody works harder than Barack.

But lord knows I'm trying to keep up with Barack, and so I figured I'd drop in to this mag's public editor page and see what I could find, by way of votes. I guess this paper is literally run by the gays, which is great. I'm in favor of gay marriage. Did you see that, when I said that? Barack was kind of mad at me for a while, but it worked out great. Mama didn't raise little Joey to be a fool. "Joey," she'd say to me, "don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining." I don't know what that has to do with gay marriage, but it's a good story. Folksy. Working-class. Blue-collar. Like me. Like Joe.

Anyway, my thing here is with PAUL CONSTANT's story. He went to the conventions and wrote them up, but I had to notice that he didn't even mention me once. He's got five or six paragraphs on Bill's speech, but there's no love for Uncle Joe? I'm not going to toot my own horn or anything—"Little Joey," my dad would say, squeezing his big hands around my shoulders, because he was a working-class kind of guy like that, "don't toot your own horn"—but I think I did pretty good, man. Even just a paragraph or, you know, a half paragraph would be great. How am I going to almost definitely run for president in 2016 if Joey doesn't get the name recognition? Back in 2008, Barack used to tell me—he would put his clean, chainless black hands on my shoulders, and he would look me in the eyes and say, "Little Joey, it's literally all about name recognition." So articulate, Barack is. And a hard worker. Anyway, here I am. Joe Biden. Remember that name. You'll be seeing a lot of it. If I have to get a lap dance from every motorcycle mama from here to Tuscaloosa, you'll remember that name.

There's a bunch of other stuff here, too, but I was surprised to see that there's nothing at all about the news that a new arena is coming to Seattle. C'mon, guys! I love sports! NASCAR. Hockey. Polecatting. Q*bert. Folksy! Man, I love Seattle. It's literally always sunny there, man. Good people—good, religious, hardworking people who care about the way the country goes. They know that Mitt Romney is going to send us backward, but Barack and Joey are going to send us forward. Forward, like into the future. You'll love it. Lots of gays there. Remember to vote. recommended