Hey, Mark Zuckerberg here. Before I tell you about the really special chance that Priscilla and I had to mingle with some Iowans who are facing unique challenges and struggles every day, I want to get something off my chest.
But I am not running. I am just doing a year of travel, for normal reasons. Hey, I’m human, and what human can resist the chance to go to small-town Iowa, multiple times, to appear in photos with the great people I meet there? I’m only human! I am human.
What do I have to do to convince people this is not a calculated political strategy? Seriously, what? I will do whatever that is, and take pictures of myself doing it, and write a post about it. Organically. As all of this has been.
Would someone who was running for office visit the hard workers in the train yards of Nebraska, or stop at a big truck stop in Iowa to understand that “unique lifestyle“? Or go to summer hockey practice in Minnetonka, have dinner with a group of Somali refugees or meet the hard-working scholars at Urban Prep Academy on the South Side of Chicago? Sure, I think they have wisdom that more of our elected officials could stand to hear and struggles we all should try harder to understand, but that’s not something that someone who wanted to be elected to office would say. But hey — maybe more politicians should.
“I’m visiting small towns in Iowa” is a normal sentence, said by many a billionaire who wants nothing.
Real talk: I think it’s a grave insult to the hard-working people of Iowa to imply that no one would visit their small towns unless he were running for president. Iowa is a great place. Wilton (population 2,800) is especially remarkable, and I treasure so much the memory of the people I talked to there. Can’t I say that they need someone to fight for their interests, who can listen respectfully and who understands where they are coming from, without people thronging to say, “You! You Mark Zuckerberg! You are that person! Your humanity is only exceeded by how down-to-earth and relatable all your interactions are! Be my president! I am creating an organic grass-roots movement on your behalf!”
Can’t a man go on vacation to small towns and sit for totally non-choreographed pictures with real, hard-working American farmers who struggle to make ends meet every day without people accusing him of ulterior motives? Can’t a man pose in a hard hat with oil workers without being told he’s playing politics? Look, I am not a politician. I will never be a politician. That’s a promise.
It is just a year of travel. That is why we went to Alaska and learned about the good lessons their safety net offers the rest of the country, like a normal vacation, and a bald eagle “just swooped in” on the Fourth of July as a glorious and organic reminder of America. That is how the whole trip has been: entirely spontaneous.
I am just doing what anyone would do if he had my resources and time: go to a national park to learn up close about the impact of climate change, visit Williston, N.D., to learn about fracking and the community around it, and pay a visit to a cattle ranch to learn about the cattle before butchering them myself.
Yes, my real motive for going to that ranch was that, as stated, I wish to meet every cow I eat and look him in the eyes before I kill him. Come on, this is not a normal wish that a man running for president would have. Stop it with this president thing! I just want to go stare at cows before I kill them. I love cows. And ranchers. And eagles. And killing them. The cows, that is, not the ranchers or the eagles. I love killing cows and keeping ranchers and eagles alive. And relating to them, in a real way, as I am doing right now.
Would I do any of these things if I wanted to be president? No, I wouldn’t. And to put a final nail in the coffin of any speculation, I just hired a Hillary Clinton pollster.
No one who wanted to be president would do that.