Tinyman had a sore throat in Tallahassee and couldn't make it to the podium. His handlers propped him up with a lemon fizz with honey, Bookers, and Echinacea. He had the malaise, the sleeping sickness.

He trembled before the television camera.

Suddenly he smiled. He realized his landlord was probably watching. (He hadn't paid rent in a year and hadn't been home in a month.) He waved to the camera, to indicate to his landlord that he was a presidential candidate with very wealthy backers, and that the check was in the mail.

The crowd went wild.

"America," he said, "the check is in the mail."

Headlines.