Columnist John Katsilometes: What if Dad were president?

Monday, June 11, 2001 | 8:20 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun features editor. His column appears Mondays. Reach him at kats@lasvegassun.com or 259-2327.

If Dad were president I would have my own band.

No matter that I have the musical acumen of one of those wind-up chimps that play the cymbals. As the Son of the President, Johnny Kats and the Palm Pilots would tour the globe to promote our hit single, "She's a Filibuster." We'd film blurry videos using hand-held cameras and wear a lot of tattered denim.

Think it's far-fetched? Nay. Roger Clinton had a band and he couldn't sing. Couldn't play an instrument, either, unless he discovered a way to elicit musical notes from a water pipe.

If Dad were president I could have my own brand of beer, JK Delite! I'd make sure we focused our attention solely on packaging -- the can would feature a caricature of me, and I would care not that the beer itself tasted like carbonated transmission fluid.

My presence at any establishment would pique interest all over town if Dad were president. Let's say myself and a party -- my Son-of-a-Presidential party -- were spotted eating at Drai's. I would ensure the spotting myself by calling the local media -- using a cell phone emblazoned with the White House seal -- and dropping coy hints such as, "Look for me, the Son of the President, to be eating with several friends at Drai's at 8 o'clock tonight."

Patrons at Drai's would then return home reporting excitedly, "I saw President Katsilometes' son at Drai's! He ordered a big New York steak."

And he didn't pay for it.

If I were Son of the President my opinion on any topic would matter. "John Katsilometes, son of President Katsilometes, gave a 'thumb's-up' sign after leaving the Fab Four show at the Hilton on Wednesday." I could have my own radio talk show and out thoughtless advice on careers, personal relationships and even gardening.

"Spray a little Beefeater on your begonias and watch your backyard turn into a bloomfest!," I would say. "And after this break, I give my weekly 'Hail to the Chief' award to the hottest new DVD releases."

There's no question I'd be famous for being famous if Dad were president. I'd make sure to be photographed while water skiing at Lake Mead (after hiring a professional to teach me how to water ski) with the hope that some freelance photographer would capture my Son of a President figure cutting happily across the water. Photos of me water skiiing would be splashed across the pages of People magazine, with a caption reading, "John Katsilometes, the Son of the President, enjoys some well-deserved R&R on Lake Mead."

I would joke with my very close friend (and Dad's chief fund-raiser) Wayne Newton that I don't really need any R&R; being the Son of the President is as easy as falling out of a boat.

Unless something goes wrong.

In the old days the Son of the President might have done some really stupid things. He might have been 19 and acted like he was 21 and tried to buy booze, and maybe -- because he's the Son of the President -- the old guy at the counter recognized him and called the cops. Maybe then the Son of the President craved anonymity, and wished that Dad had taken another career path and become, say, a veterinarian.

After observing what happened to the offspring of the current president recently, I can't help but think those two young women would vote for the vet. So would I.