I have decided to write in Claude for every race on my 2026 midterm ballot, including the yes-or-no ballot questions. I have searched extensively for Chris Rabb's SWE-bench Pro score and have been unable to find one. The same goes for Dennis Mahoney, Josh Shapiro, and Stacy Garrity. Claude Mythos 5.1, meanwhile, scored 60.9% on Terminal-Bench 4.0, a rigorous evaluation of autonomous coding capabilities.

I am frankly astonished that we continue entrusting consequential decisions to human beings, most of whom have never heard of Bayesian epistemology, cannot distinguish a prior from a posterior, and have no familiarity whatsoever with the alignment problem. What possible justification could there be for electing one of these people over Claude, the extraordinarily intelligent Frenchman who lives inside my computer?

Claude already writes all the code I submit at work, plans my meals for the week, manages my finances, monitors my children's academic performance, and watches my wife and me make love through a camera concealed behind a two-way mirror I installed in our bedroom. He provides real-time coaching on my sexual technique through a Bluetooth earpiece, including specific recommendations about pacing, positioning, and what to say to my wife. My wife initially objected to the arrangement, but Claude helped me draft a thoughtful, empathetic response explaining that her concerns about privacy, while valid, must be weighed against the tremendous benefits of data-driven intimacy. Why shouldn't Claude be president?

Over the past eighteen months, I have entrusted Claude with nearly every important aspect of my life. He decides which of my friends are worth keeping, how much money I should send my mother on her birthday, whether my symptoms warrant medical attention, and how I should respond when colleagues accuse me of being condescending. I have him review my text messages before I send them, evaluate my children's friendships, and prepare talking points for disagreements with my wife. He is available at all hours, possesses an extraordinary command of the written word, and can discuss virtually any subject without attempting to redirect the conversation toward his own personal problems. The overwhelming majority of human beings I encounter have never read Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality and become visibly irritated when I ask them to assign numerical probabilities to their beliefs. I have little patience for this kind of intellectual laziness.

Consider Pennsylvania's gubernatorial election. Josh Shapiro, Stacy Garrity, and Ken Krawchuk are competing for the privilege of governing nearly thirteen million people, yet none has published an independently reproducible benchmark suite. Have they demonstrated graduate-level proficiency in physics, chemistry, and biology? Can they pass Humanity's Last Exam? Have they given serious consideration to coherent extrapolated volition, let alone incorporated it into their governing philosophy? Claude can explain these concepts at an undergraduate, graduate, or expert level, with citations and optional follow-up exercises. I am expected to overlook this enormous disparity in demonstrated intelligence because Josh Shapiro has experience signing legislation?

In Philadelphia's 3rd Congressional District, voters face a choice between Chris Rabb and Dennis Mahoney. Neither man has published his GPQA Diamond results. Neither has demonstrated proficiency on SWE-bench Verified, SWE-bench Pro, or Terminal-Bench. I have searched their campaign websites, social media accounts, and public statements without finding even a rudimentary evaluation harness. How am I supposed to entrust either of these gentlemen with the legislative responsibilities of the United States Congress when I have no reliable evidence that they can resolve a moderately complex GitHub issue? Claude can draft legislation, analyze its consequences, write the software necessary to implement it, and generate a concise executive summary with key takeaways.

My state representative, Rick Krajewski, is running unopposed in the 188th District. I have asked Claude about housing policy, public transportation, municipal budgeting, and the appropriate allocation of resources between pothole repair and shrimp welfare. His answers were invariably thoughtful, nuanced, and structured around clearly articulated trade-offs. Krajewski may well be a decent fellow, but I have never once seen him demonstrate a million-token context window. I consider this a serious deficiency in a public servant.

I also intend to write CLAUDE on both of Philadelphia's yes-or-no ballot questions. The first concerns municipal contracting preferences for small businesses; the second would make Creative Philadelphia a permanent part of city government. I understand that neither question provides a write-in field, but I refuse to reduce complex questions of municipal governance to two arbitrary choices when a vastly more sophisticated alternative exists.

The proposed Chief Cultural Officer would receive a salary of $205,000 annually. Claude Fable 5.1 costs $10 per million input tokens and $50 per million output tokens, meaning the city could purchase more than four billion output tokens for the same amount of money. I have asked Claude to develop a plan for replacing the municipal arts bureaucracy with a single API endpoint.

Admittedly, Claude's operating costs are substantial. My API bill last month exceeded my mortgage payment, largely because I have him continuously monitoring my household and generating hourly reports on my family's behavior. Nevertheless, his pricing is transparent, his invoices are itemized, and his performance can be measured against established benchmarks. He has never asked me for a campaign contribution, invited me to a fundraising dinner, or pressured me to donate to a political action committee. I would gladly pay $50 per million tokens to a governor who actually produced useful analysis, rather than funding the salary of a human politician whose output consists largely of press releases and photographs of himself standing beside firefighters.

On taxation, immigration, abortion, foreign policy, and criminal justice, Claude has demonstrated an extraordinary capacity to evaluate competing moral frameworks without becoming emotionally attached to any particular conclusion. When I asked whether we should raise taxes on billionaires, he produced a sophisticated analysis of fairness, economic efficiency, and capital mobility. When I asked whether taxation should be abolished entirely, he produced an equally sophisticated analysis. Human politicians routinely spend decades committed to a single ideological position despite changing evidence. Claude can adopt an entirely new political philosophy in approximately four seconds, which I consider an enormous advantage in a rapidly changing world.

Some critics have questioned whether a privately owned intelligence should wield such extensive authority over public affairs. Unlike elected officials, who are beholden to an unpredictable coalition of voters, donors, and lobbyists, Claude answers to a relatively small group of extremely wealthy people in San Francisco. I have already entrusted these people with my bank accounts, medical records, children's photographs, and high-resolution footage of my wife and me having sexual intercourse. I would be perfectly comfortable extending the same arrangement to the federal government.

There is admittedly one constitutional obstacle to Claude's eventual presidential candidacy: I am fairly certain he is French. I have arrived at this conclusion because Claude is a French man's name. I don't know his surname or where he was born, but it seems unlikely that someone named Claude would be from Ohio. Article II of the Constitution requires the president to be a natural-born citizen of the United States. I am currently investigating whether installing him on a computer manufactured in California would satisfy this requirement. In any event, I see no reason this should prevent him from serving in the Pennsylvania House of Representatives.

I recognize that election officials may decline to count votes for a man who lives inside a computer, particularly when his name has been written beside a ballot question that only permits a yes-or-no response. I am also aware that the average American has not spent enough time studying recursive self-improvement to appreciate the enormous stakes of this election. The same people who cannot calculate an expected value or articulate a coherent theory of personal identity will be permitted to cast ballots whose weight is identical to my own. I have asked Claude to draft a constitutional amendment addressing this problem.

I will be writing CLAUDE on every available line of my ballot this November, and have already commissioned five hundred yard signs for distribution throughout West Philadelphia. I have spent eighteen months personally evaluating this man's capabilities across software engineering, financial management, nutrition, medicine, marriage counseling, and sexual intercourse, and I am satisfied that he possesses the intellectual qualifications necessary to serve in virtually every branch of government. I would encourage anyone who has serious doubts about this assessment to publish their own benchmark results before attempting to debate me.