John McCain has launched an “exploratory committee,” meaning his 2008 presidential run is official. I’m not entirely sure who’s on these committees or what they do; ask around? Check the local New Hampshire papers’ Calendar sections for pancake breakfast announcements?

I have to admit this alarms me, because I have publicly declared that if the ‘08 race is between McCain and Hillary Clinton, I will die by my own hand. I could have fallen back on the ol’ “moving to Canada,” but ohhh no. I had to lead with suicide. It’s all about raising the bar. I blame Howard Stern.

My problem with this inevitable campaign is that Hillary Clinton is a Republican and John McCain is a whore. And not one of those pretty, expensive, high-class kinds that let you kiss them on the mouth, either. In recent weeks, in my home, I have become very, very fond of my “John McCain will suck your c*ck for $.45″ routine. My wife, a decent, country, churchgoing woman, has put up with about as much of this as she will ever stand. It does not elicit a smile from her. She is worried that, by the time ‘08 rolls around, there will be children in the house and I will still be talking like this. (Little does she know that, best case scenario, I will be long dead. After all, I have a rep to uphold.) Ultimatums have been issued. I cannot go around with this “Reverend Falwell, I reckon I’ll swallow that penis” talk in the living room during the family hour for much longer. Upshot? Expect to see a lot of it here.