Dan Maes: Five October surprises to expect from the campaign of the Kansas superspy
Call us jaded. GOP gubernatorial hopeful Dan Maes has spun so many bizarre and jaw-dropping yarns, about everything from his generous mileage reimbursements to being fired as a Kansas cop because he dared to investigate his future in-laws' gambling activities, that we're no longer easily a-Maesed.
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Not even when a police chief claims that Maes was fired because he tipped off his in-laws and blew the case -- that, in effect, he ratted out his future wife's parents to the cops, then snitched on the cops as well. What else would you expect from an undercover triple agent?
We're betting that the real shockers in the Maes campaign are still to come. Weeks or only days before the election, count on the international man of mystery in this truly peculiar race to come up with a bombshell revelation or two that will finally clarify the murkier aspects of his seeming missteps and maybe sew up a victory tighter than the stitching on a pair of Snooki's Levis.
What exact form this ohmygawsh moment will take is difficult to predict, but here are five possible scenarios:
5. At a debate in Fort Collins, Maes slams John Hickenlooper up against the podium and cuffs him, while agents from the Kansas Bureau of Investigation surround the Denver mayor's security team and disarm them. Maes then displays a badge and states that his dismissal as a small-town police officer 25 years ago was part of an elaborate cover story; he was actually recruited by the KBI and has been relentlessly pursuing a crime kingpin known only as "Geology John," said to have reaped millions from bookmaking, prostitution and illegal beer sales in the Sunflower State. "Running for governor was the only way to put pressure on this vicious scumbag to release his tax returns, including the so-called 'charitable' donations that were part of his devious money-laundering schemes," Maes explains.
4. One week before the election, Maes appears as a cooperating witness at an FBI-Justice Department press conference, announcing the indictment of three dozen prominent Colorado Republican lobbyists and campaign donors, including Freda Poundstone, for campaign finance violations. "Accepting a 'donation' from Freda was the only way to trace these highly illegal monies to their source -- a cartel of Arab sheiks and Mexican narco-terrorists bent on shoring up marginal candidates and destroying our American way of life," Maes explains.
3. At a Tea Party rally in Grand Junction, Maes unleashes a Power Point presentation, including documents signed by UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon, that offer incontrovertible proof that Denver's bike-sharing program is one of several initiatives across the country secretly funded by the United Nations in an effort to disrupt capitalism and hasten the arrival of a world government. Maes explains that he obtained the documents while posing as a 22-year-old page at UN headquarters in New York City during the years he was supposedly launching his credit reporting business -- and struggling to make ends meet. "Sacrifices had to be made," he explains.
2. The day after John Hickenlooper wins a landslide victory, with conservative voters split between Maes and independent candidate Tom Tancredo, Maes pulls off an incredibly realistic latex mask and reveals that he's actually a hideously deformed man named Winston Pickerell, a Democratic party operative planted as a mole in Tea Party circles months ago to sabotage Republican hopes. Despite a carefully seeded background, including two wives and three children, Dan Maes does not exist. "There is no such person," Pickerell explains.
1. The day after John Hickenlooper wins a landslide victory, Maes appears on The Late Show with David Letterman to promote a new film by Casey Affleck, I'm Still Not All There. The pseudo-documentary follows a goofball candidate (played by Maes, who previously appeared as an extra in several George Romero zombie films) as he makes one preposterous statement after another in an inept bid for state office. The film seeks to demonstrate the willingness of disaffected voters to embrace a "maverick" candidate, no matter how unqualified. "You could call it a cinematic hoax, I guess, but we never expected it go this far," explains Maes.