All this talk from the “it must be true because someone forwarded me an email” set about Barack Obama’s Manchurian candidacy has left me with renewed respect for radical Muslims.

Think about it: Decades ago — at least four years before the Voting Rights Act was even passed — they picked a little biracial baby to eventually let them take America. It’s freaking brilliant bordering on clairvoyant.

If they could pull this off from Indonesia in the late 1960s – a country living in the aftermath of a failed military coup, with abysmal human rights and rampant corruption — imagine what could be accomplished in modern America.

So feeling a bit Angela Lansbury-like – or Meryl Streepish, depending on which version of the movie you prefer — I’ve decided to take a stab at it myself.

I’m going to raise my own Manchurian candidate.

I had trouble picking a guy to brainwash, but settled on Big Guy despite his liability as a blabbermouth. He’s charismatic like Obama, can hang with McCain when it comes to pitching a hissy and has that Clinton-esque work-a-crowd talent.

Little Guy’s much more circumspect, but I don’t think he could pull off the campaigning. Velcroing oneself to one’s mother’s knees isn’t very presidential. He’ll still be a key player, though. Maybe attorney general

They will, of course, be Republicans, and that’s where the Manchurian suspicions will come in. Despite their blond hair and blue eyes, they have Middle Eastern roots on their father’s side.

That will be the first bomb for the email-forwarding folks to discover. “Ah-HA! His father was from Iran! He’s another Obama!”

Big Guy will assure them that his father’s family was driven out by an incompetent Democratic administration that bumbled the whole region into long-term instability and all will be well. He’ll be elected by a landslide – what can I say? He’s also damn cute, and that’s always a political asset.

But moments after he’s sworn in, he’ll rip off his designer suit to reveal a T-shirt emblazoned with MLK’s face.

He’ll launch into his little stringless Pinocchio dance, adding the booty grind he’s fond of lately, and point finger six-shooters at the crowd, like he does when he thinks he’s gotten one over on me.

“Ha, ha! Tricked you! Tricked you! Now, I want universal preschool and a health care plan that lets people get the care they need and take sick days without fear of being fired. We’re going to give Bubba as many bailouts as we give big business.

“Oh, and we’re finally going to figure out Iraq, too.”

Call it a double-Manchurian twist: I will have been brainwashing him all along. It’s always the mother, you know.

Beneath that slick neo-neocon facade will beat a heart bent on helping the poor learn to fish instead of buying the rich another fleet of trawlers.

But please, keep this under your hat for the next 30 years. I’d hate to see this get out on the Internet or somewhere before Big Guy’s old enough to run.

Copyright 2008 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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