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The Daily Utah Chronicle

The University of Utah's Independent Student Voice

The Daily Utah Chronicle

The University of Utah's Independent Student Voice

The Daily Utah Chronicle

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Want your voice to be heard? Submit a letter to the editor, send us an op-ed pitch or check out our open positions for the chance to be published by the Daily Utah Chronicle.

In order to garb a more perfect leader

By Eryn Green and Ben Zalkind

Ali Hasnain is a man of the people and a people of The Man.

As the president of the Associated Students of the University of Utah, Hasnain is known for his just-right handshake, million-watt smile and baby-kissing lips, capable of smooching 176 precocious infants per New York minute.

Yes, Hasnain is a seasoned politician, but his political prowess is not necessarily latent-no, it is the result of countless man-hours of earnest cultivation.

A graduate of the Richard Nixon School of Chicanery, where he received his masters degree in Persuasive Gesticulation, Hasnain is the electoral equivalent of a purebred schnauzer. Blue-ribbon quality, not to be trifled with-this is a man who, if he wanted, could have your legs snapped like twigs with only one well-placed call from his executive Blackberry.

A significant component of Hasnain’s ineffable air is his careful and precise choice in wardrobe. As Hasnain told The Chronicle, he longs to strike “a careful balance between Big Brother and The Big Brother Next Door.”

It is our deep, deep pleasure to examine the empowering and intimidating-yet approachable-fashion sensibilities of such a potent up-and-comer.

Hasnain, you have our vote. Now, if you’ll only do something about those damned vending machines…we wants our Butterfingers! Do not underestimate the power of the masses-when hungry, we are capable of revolution. Bloody, bloody revolution.

You have been warned.

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The Fedora of Power: A gift from the late Russian Feather-Rustler Nikita Kruschev during one of Hasnain’s visit to The Kremlin, Hasnain says of his prized bonnet: “It serves manifold functions in my wardrobe. This fedora does everything from conceal my embarrassing mutant horn-sadly unpopular amongst older voters and small children-to give the appearance of maturity and vintage class, despite the fact that I am actually only 12 years old.” Hasnain added, “Hey, do you guys know where my Roller Skates of Unimpeachable Authority are?”

The S.E.G.: No successful politician leaves home without it, and many have perished as a result of underestimating its power-The S*** Eating Grin is an absolute staple in the wardrobe of every champion rumor-monger.

Luckily for us, Hasnain respects the S.E.G. and bows to its unholy influence over every human alive and some dead.

“Once, I was at a Meet-‘n-Greet in Cowtown, Ala., and I made the mistake of calling beef ‘little more than what’s for dinner.’ A particularly powerful lobbyist organization, the Livestock Lovers of America, became irate and threatened to ‘feed me to the pigs.’ When they came at me with pitchforks and torches, obviously upset that I didn’t recognize their constitutional right to wed and impregnate cattle, it was only because of my S.E.G. that I escaped with my life…and my horn.”

Hasnain spends hours in front of his bedroom mirror each morning, repeating affirmations like “They love you; they need you” and “Mama ain’t raise no runner-up” while polishing his pearly whites with Vaseline.

The result? Oh, not much…only the single most awe-inspiring facial expression known to man, which says to all who behold it, “I may not know or care about you, but damn if I won’t pretend to love you for your vote.”

It’s knot the size of the boat, but the motion of the boastin’: Hasnain spent two years in a Himalayan monastery perfecting his tie-tying skills, which he likens to those of “a freakin’ jedi knight.”

Indeed, the force is strong with this one. It matters not whether the knot be Windsor or bow, Hasnain is capable of navigating its inner workings like a drunken sailor-all piss, vinegar and scurvy.

While some critics have asserted that Hasnain’s “teeny-weeny” tie is a sign of insecurity and testicular atrophy, Hasnain rejects such talk as “unfounded slander.”

“My tie is in no way a representation of my manhood,” Hasnain said. “I compensate for nothing-a small tie is a sign of a small ego. It is, after all, you, dear voters, whom I adore. I would feel just awful-just awful-if ever my apparel distracted from my immeasurable dedication to your service. Remember, a vote for Hasnain is a vote for…a man…who, um, will never wear a boastful neck apparatus.”

The Finga’: Little is known about The Finga’ other than its hypnotic power and ability to reduce even Newt Gingrich to a pile of sniveling partisan goo.

The Chronicle asked Hasnain about The Finga’, but after we became unsettlingly aware of four ominous men approaching us from the wings, we opted to drop the subject. Regardless, one thing is certain: Be it bionic implant, Satanic instrument of control or simply a particularly charismatic digit, we fear and admire The Finga’ and its subtle fashion mannerisms. Without it, Hasnain would be a man with only nine little piggies, and nobody would vote for that kind of freak.

Business Cas’: Though his position demands a degree of formality, Hasnain is of a casual breed. He does not want his constituents to forget that he is “just a regular nine-to-fiver, like all your friends and neighbors.” To offset his button-down starchiness, Hasnain chooses-wisely-to wear quotidian articles of clothing whenever possible.

“This leather jacket is, my people tell me, highly popular with the kids these days. It strikes an approachable tone, while not being unnecessarily bawdy.”

Always a thinker, that Hasnain.

Little known factoid: The leather jacket Hasnain wears, which defines the term Business Cas’, was meticulously stitched by The Illuminati’s eternally damned seamstress from the flesh of 10,000 French martyrs. It is versatile, and since the souls of the damned are waterproof, Hasnain needn’t worry about getting his favorite jacket a little wet.

The Hand of The People and The People’s Bling: While The Finga’ may define Hasnain’s left hand, his right is the hand with which he does his ass-wipin’ and hand-shakin’-the two most important functions of any politico’s paw. Strengthened by a daily regimen of stress-ballin’ and ball-stressin’, Hasnain’s right hand is appropriately named that of The People: It is tough, like his love, yet soft, like his bedside moisturizer.

“The hand speaks for itself,” Hasnain said. “However, I must say that my pinky ring-which my followers must kiss in order to address His Hasnainess-was a gift pilfered from Ronald Reagan on his deathbed. It’s an heirloom, you know?”

Hey, no need to explain to us, Hasnain-sometimes a politician has to play dirty to get ahead. Nobody and nothing is sacred, not even a former president’s last wishes. A lesson well learned and a piece of jewelry well worn.

Editor’s note: No material in the preceding column was based on actual facts. All was generated fo’ satire.

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