Candidate Already Has Eye On 2020

All politicians claim to care about the future.

But America has only one true Candidate for Tomorrow.

His name is Brian Anderson and he’s running for president. In the year 2020, that is.

Campaigns normally don’t take off two decades early, since many of the potential voters aren’t yet born.

But this political early bird is 26. Under the law, citizens must be at least 35 to bed interns in the Oval Office.

Anderson comes of age in 2009. But he’s pragmatic enough to realize he’ll need a bit more seasoning. So he came up with 2020, which has a catchy appeal.

“I have an absolute belief and conviction in the direction I’m heading,” says the Ross Perot-sized Anderson, who at 5-foot-6 weighs 140 pounds.

The unmarried Muskegon, Mich., native blew through the Spokane area on a nationwide menial labor listening tour. Wherever he goes, Anderson signs on with a day-labor firm so he can toil amongst the common folk.

Anderson hauled frozen veggies in Bellingham. He picked litter at Seattle’s Safeco Field. He worked on the assembly line of a bottled water plant in Fall City.

On Monday, the Anderson for President juggernaut (a 1990 Nissan with 184,000 miles) rolled to Medical Lake High School. Anderson donned an orange hard hat and vest. He was paid to keep a lookout for any fires that might break out due to construction.

Anderson is likable enough. He’s well-spoken, although disturbingly stiff for a member of the 20-something crowd. Maybe that’s unavoidable for someone who graduated from college with an accounting degree.

An accountant for president. And we think Al Gore is a totem pole.

Talk about type A for Anderson. He has his life more mapped out than Dr. Strangelove’s War Room. There is the “1,000 Day Working Tour” that shows how long he plans to visit each state.

Then there is the plan for his life: 2002 - publish books; 2003 - join military reserves; 2004 - work on law degree; 2008 - get a job with a senator or elected official; 2013 - campaign for Senate …

Somebody needs to tell this kid that life is a little less predictable than building a deck in the ol’ back yard.

One minute you may think you’re running for president. Then - wham! - next minute you’re chauffeuring a minivan full of bickering brats to T-ball practice.

Anderson’s brain is already showing signs of campaign-itis. He keeps speaking of himself in the third person, as in “we” did this and “we” did that.

And when it comes to issues, Anderson has more hedges than an English garden. The poor kid won’t even dare say what band he likes most, let alone reveal his party affiliation.

Where does he stand on gun control, abortion or capital punishment? Forget about it.

Where oh where could this timidity come from?

“I’m not prepared to make a statement,” a grumpy-sounding Robert Anderson says when telephoned about his son’s presidential pipe dreams.

In the future, of course, there will be a whole new set of issues for Anderson to waffle on: laser control, Martian immigration, android voting rights, the cloning of Oprah …

“I’m going to remain very open,” Anderson says when asked just about anything specific.

Anderson says he never harbored any youthful dreams of becoming president. It just happened on a February day two years ago. The notion apparently struck him like an epiphanic white bolt of lightning.

“I can see how people look at it as being flaky,” Anderson’s older brother Darrell says. “But he’s got a new idea, a new way of looking at this.”

Maybe so.

But I’m voting that the Candidate for Tomorrow has a better chance of replacing Hugh Downs on 20/20 than becoming the president in 2020.

And you can quote me.