The Endorsement woke from his hideous slumber.
"It is time. I have been called."
The attendants had spent decades waiting for this moment, their robes finely pressed each morning, passed down father to son throughout the ages. Theirs was a sacred duty—awaiting word from the Spirit of Selection, the specter who would inform the people for whom they must vote. Only twice previously in the nation’s history had The Endorsement awoken, but a crisis had called him forth yet again.
"Bring me my quill."
The attendants murmured, but none moved.
"SPEAK!"
"Ah, well, you see oh Spirit we … we don’t use quills anymore."
"Ah yes. The last time I woke you brought a … point ball?"
"Yes, well, a ballpoint pen. You said typewriters were for ‘effeminate inkstains,’ if the legend is true—"
"IT IS!"
"—and that a man such as Lyndon Baines Johnson deserved something finer."
"I mean, did you even see that ad with the little girl and the daisy?"
"Yes, Spirit. Well, I saw a YouTube of it the other day. Chilling!"
"Yoo … Tube. BRING ME A TUBE OF YOO."
"No, it’s … it’s on the computer, you see."
"But only the ten richest sultans of the Middle East can afford those by now, surely! Their housings must take entire city blocks."
At this, one of the younger attendants giggled in the background and The Endorsement’s icy stare instantly turned him to ash and dust. There would be no more giggling after that. The Endorsement was super cereal you guys.
"Why did the pile of dust laugh at me?"
"Well … things have changed a lot since 1964, Spirit."
"In the hundred years between my first two wakings man created weapons that would destroy the Earth and blot out the sky! How much different could things be now!"
"Well, for starters, you can access the entirety of the world’s knowledge with a device that fits right in your pants pocket."
"A … computer of the pantaloons?"
"Um … yes. More or less. Most people just use it to watch porn and send each other naked photos, though."
"This is disturbing and also titillating. Bring the Spirit a pantaloons computer!"
Four hours later, as the Spirit consumed pornography and played Candy Crush on an iPhone in front of a horrified yet slightly bored collection of attendants, one of them dared raise his voice.
"Ah … Endorsement. You have stirred for the first time in more than a half-century’s time. Why do you awake now?"
"The Republic is imperiled!"
"Yes, these are dark times."
"And only The Endorsement can tell people how to behave."
"You certainly do not stand alone."
The Spirit stopped and glared at the middle-aged man in robes.
"What do you mean?"
The man cleared his throat and glanced nervously at the pile of ash, fiddling with the thick-framed glasses on his face. "Well, ah, you know, lots of news outlets endorse candidates."
"On the pantaloons computer?"
"Yes, exactly, but not just news outlets. Celebrities, athletes, bloggers … everyone you can imagine who has access to the Inter—to the pantaloons computers, well, they offer their own endorsements."
"How many of them have endorsed the one with the orange hair?"
"Well, ah … none of them."
"NONE?"
"Yeah, um, hold on, I think the Enquirer did but, you know, that’s not really—"
"I am aware of the National Enquirer, thank you."
"Yes, ahem, well, you know, we should get on with the sacred ceremony so you can return to your rest!"
"Literally every other elite outlet is pulling for her?"
"Pretty much, yeah. Even the ones that haven’t endorsed her have failed to endorse him."
There was silence for a moment. And then, with a heaving sigh, came a tremulous whisper.
"Why even bother."
The Endorsement was, unbelievably yet unmistakably, pouting. He seemed to realize that his words did not carry the weight they once did despite the fact that he only offered his opinion in the rarest of circumstances and let you know about this reluctance to endorse over and over and over again.
"But … you’re The Endorsement! Lincoln, LBJ, now, you know, Hill—"
"UGH DON’T SAY HER NAME."
"Well, you are the one selecting her, spirit."
"Really I’m just #NeverTrump, you know?"
"How do you know what a hashtag is?"
"SILENCE! Fine. Don’t vote for that one guy."
At this the attendants burst into excited motion, running to and fro, transcribing The Endorsement’s declaration. By noon it would be trending on Twitter; by evening the Republic would be saved.
"I have performed my sacred duty," The Endorsement said. "I have spent precious political capital. I have made myself Known. And now I shall return to my state of slumber, awaiting the next moment I am called upon to save the Republic."
And with that, the Spirit of Selection slept. Over the following weeks, blue-collar workers throughout the Rust Belt set aside their economic uncertainty and their disgust for She Who Shall Not Be Named thanks to his beautiful words, wondering how they ever could have been so foolish as to consider voting for the one with the orange hair. America was spared from being made great again.
But for how long? Only The Endorsement knows!