Election results from on high

Art Buchwald has been elected president of the United States of Heaven. Mike Royko is his secretary of State and Royko’s old friend Slats Grobnik his press secretary.

Buchwald was swept in as a member of the Humorist Party by a vote of one, but that is all that is required up there. You can guess who cast the one and only binding vote.

Royko is his only Cabinet member except for one of those bobbing-head dolls on Buchwald’s desk that always nods yes, which is what a Cabinet is for anyhow -- to agree. The doll has been given the title of Secretary of Everything Else.

It is next to a sign on his desk, by the way, that says, “The Buch stops here.”

Buchwald won the support of Art Hoppe by promising not to do very much while in office, thereby defusing Hoppe’s venerable “Nobody for President” campaign in his San Francisco Chronicle column. The president of everything to all people has never worked out, so a president who does very little has an edge.

In his acceptance speech, however, President Buch, as they call him, promised never to send anyone to war who is under 60 but to build an army of drum-beating, bugle-tooting hawks who are too old to fight a war but like the idea of having one around. Therefore, when more soldiers need to be sent into the fray, it would not be a surge of young men but a wobble of geezers who would be doing the fighting.

Buchwald announced it all with a big laugh, the kind he offered when they told him back on Earth that he was going to die eventually, knowing full well that everyone was going to die eventually anyhow, so what was the big deal? He was just having more fun dying than most people.

Country boy columnist Lew Grizzard is speaker of the heavenly House, where absolutely no business is conducted, although every once in a while a member will awaken to frown his objection to whatever he thinks might be going on. Image is everything. Only hands of approval to the president’s suggestions are permitted. They are assured by a zap of electricity to each member’s behind that causes a sudden upward jerk of both arms. Works every time.

Grizzard entertains with funny stories about his black Lab Catfish, an animal a lot like my old dog Hoover, who died growling at me and never did like the human race too much. Grizzard’s last words before undergoing heart surgery were supposedly to tell the surgeon to make it quick so he could catch the last bus to Albuquerque. He never made it, but he’s raising hell up there in heaven.

President Buchwald is often seen with Grizzard and Royko at the Billy Goat Tavern. He is back to smoking cigars again, which he gave up under pressure on Earth. In the good old U.S. of H. you can smoke and never get sick, drink and never get drunk, and be honest without risking political support or campaign contributions.

Up there, by the way, euphemisms are not allowed to take the place of truth. You can’t say you misspoke, you have to stand up and say you flat-out lied, otherwise you end up in a hot place with a lot of ticked-off Republicans, and I don’t mean Palm Springs.

There is no money in heaven as such, so there are no real political campaigns. Each candidate is allowed a credit to buy a drink for the person that he thinks will do him the least good. This creates campaigns of aides who are too useless to be effective, thereby maintaining a peaceful atmosphere throughout the course of the election period. No TV or radio ads, no newspaper ads and no telephone or computer pitches.

At best, if one is so inclined, he can praise himself to his dog or cat.

When it is over, God buys the drinks at the Billy Goat and announces his selection of the president with a unanimous vote of, well, him. This allows for no voting-machine errors or decisions by a court to screw things up. God just points a fiery finger, there is a glow around his selection, and that’s it. They all sing a satirical tune written by Royko shortly after Bush stole the presidency in Florida. It is called “Hail to the Thief.” Then they laugh like maniacs and have another beer, or whatever.

The U.S. of Heaven was created when God looked down on this troubled nation and decided that humorists were making more sense than any of the political leaders. So he called up editorial cartoonists like Thomas Nast and Herbert Block, commonly known as Herblock, and Walt Kelly and Bill Mauldin, among others. Pogo was the first president, which made all the creatures of Okefenokee Swamp happy. He was followed by H.L. Mencken and then Will Rogers, who could skewer a politician and twirl a rope at the same time, and they all contributed to doing nothing.

Sadly, there is no Art Buchwald or Mike Royko or any of those others for the upcoming presidential election down here, so we’ll just have to hope and pray that whoever is elected might receive a message from God that if they really set out to do nothing, everything will be OK. At least they won’t be doing anything wrong.

Al Martinez’s column appears Mondays and Fridays. He can be reached at al.martinez@latimes.com.