"Man Tan! Quick Tan," Dr. Ford explained, "will make him look too jaundiced, too yellow. That's what did me in in 2006! They called me 'lemon'."
"Are we really sure Black is the way to go?" asked Dr. Wittmann.
A lengthy discussion took place in the "Progressive" Policy Institute which was only resolved when Dr. Ford pointed out that despite the fact he was pro-war, anti-abortion, anti-same-sex benefits and "an all around Republican," he received "sympathy and mass coverage" when an opponent lampooned his attending a post-Super Bowl, Playboy party party in an ad.
"It wasn't even racist towards me," he said excitedly. "It was racist towards Playboy Bunnies in that it worked with the assumption that all women attending a Playboy party would be White. But look at how they played out. Even independent media was supporting me and cluck-clucking and they never said a word that I, an alleged Black man, posed in front of a Confederate flag in the same race! Black, pseudo Black, is the answer! It takes the sting out of all criticism!"
"Genius," agreed Dr. From while Dr. Wittmann cautioned that they shouldn't go "too Black."
Standing over the Caucasian male, they began applying Man Tan liberally.
"What else?" Dr. From asked mid-slathering.
"Well, let's deal with crack odor because that really sunk Slimey."
A moment of silence was held to honor Slimey Rosenberg followed by high fives and talk of how close he got.
"We really worked the pseudo-independent bloggers there," chortled Dr. Frum.
"'We'?" asked Dr. Wittmann before pointing out that it was he who had been quoted non-stop at supposedly left blogs -- generally run by those who had supported Reagan in the 80s but what readers didn't know, no one was telling.
"What else?" asked Dr. Ford.
"Toothy!" insisted Dr. From. "I loved Mary Tyler Moore and spent every Saturday night in the seventies glued to CBS just to see that smile."
After some ribald teasing that he was actually watching for Gavin MacLeod (which would explain the Love Boat mural on his bedroom ceiling), all agreed with Dr. From.
Dr. Ford explained, "He can't be too Black and we need the toothy to take away from the skin color."
"But," wondered Dr. Wittmann, "wouldn't a man smiling non-stop come off as an airhead?"
"Only a White man," Dr. Ford explained. "A Black man would be seen as non-threatening if he smiled constantly. Haven't you studied the ground breaking work of Dr. Patti Williams on Black men and dogs? Dr. Patti has revealed and demonstrated, backed up by the social scientists of People magazine, that a Black face is too dark. Just like a black dog. Teeth lighten the picture."
To ensure the point got across, they gave the man laying on the table oversize choppers.
"I doubt his lips will even come together now," laughed Dr. From.
Dr. Ford agreed as he flipped through GQ and Vogue for Men to order various trendy outfits for their patient.
"Won't that make him look a little light in the loafers?" asked Dr. Wittman.
Dr. Ford threw down the magazine and charged at Dr. Wittman, real anger in his eyes, screaming, "Say it to George Clooney! Say it to Clooney!"
After Dr. From separated the two men, it was agreed that fashion plate would further distance the 'Black' candidate from Black fears and that light in the loafers could actually be worked into a campaign motto: "He will tread lightly in the White House, question no power structure and oppose no war."
But positions, insisted Dr. Wittman, hadn't they forgotten positions. What was this Frankenstein candidate going to stand for.
"He will come out strongly for Darfur because we can reduce that to pure emotion," said Dr. From flipping through polling results. "As for the rest, he'll never say anything specific but give inspirational speeches. It'll be like slapping a penis on Oprah and running her for president!"
They were in agreement, finally, and turned off the lights and headed home.
Days later when the high fashion arrived, they returned to the lab to begin dressing the candidate.
"Uh-oh," moaned Dr. Ford.
Everyone stared where he was pointing, at the crotch of the candidate.
"Did we give him a libido? If we gave him a libido, there's a chance that someone might see this and, if they do, they'll know he's not Black," fretted Dr. Ford.
Silence followed as they continued to stare at the meager package. Using a pointer, Dr. From even prodded it a few times, hoping it would come to life and grow but there was no action.
"At least we won't have to worry about any Slick Willie problems!" laughed Dr. Wittman before realizing he was no longer at the Hoover Institute and that shtick didn't play.
Pacing for hours, fueled on Fruit Roll Ups and Sanka, the three men pondered what to do? How to address this problem? They had planned an athletic image for their candidate and, certainly, he would have to change in a few locker rooms. Dr. From, flashing back on high school, knew damn well that boys did look and boys did talk. Certainly finishing senior year being called "Little Al" by everyone, including teachers, bore that out.
The Sanka was all gone and they were about to send someone out for strawberry flavored, power milk; however, Dr. Ford banged a fist down on the gurney.
"I've got it! We'll say he's only half-Black."
The other two murmured in agreement excitedly.
"Half-Black," Dr. Wittman said, "so you can trust him."
Moving his hand slowly through the air, as though across a banner, Dr. From said, "The Ultimate Centrist!"
Hours later, while Dr. Ford tutored the candidate on political theory via the works of Erma Bombeck, Drs. Wittman and From stepped out into the hallway.
"I don't care if it does sound like 'Yo Mama,' I want him to be named Obama," Dr. Wittman confided.
Dr. From readily agreed. His only concern was how to break the news to Bill that they'd created their own Frankenstein candidate and would no longer need Hillary?