Sources interviewed for this article said that Mr. Bush spends at least eight hours of each day at the Preston Hollow Shopping Center, a popular retail destination near his home in suburban Dallas. “Other than that chimichanga lunch he doesn’t really have a set routine,” said one source. “Sometimes he’ll hang around Lenscrafters trying on glasses or head over to Abercrombie & Fitch and watch the girls fold pants. Last week I saw him inside Pottery Barn sleeping in a leather recliner.”

But some mall employees are beginning to complain about the former president. “The other day I was taking a smoke break near the fountain and he just kept asking me stupid stuff like, ‘Guess how fast I could get a hot dog in the White House,’” said Amber Kaul, who works part-time at the T-Mobile kiosk. “So finally I’m like, ‘I dunno, ten minutes?’ And he’s all like ‘more like two minutes’ and then he snaps his fingers and gives me this cocky look like I’m supposed to care.” Donna Simpson, a barista at the mall Starbucks, said the former president is often a distraction from her work. “He sits down over there with a pencil and a piece of paper and supposedly starts working on his ‘Freedom Institute,’” said Ms. Simpson. “But after about five minutes he comes over, takes a seat at the counter and starts telling how there’s Milk Duds on Air Force One or how Dick Cheney has a glass eye. I’m like, ‘Dude, there’s about 50 people in line right now, go away!’”

Nestor Martinez, a 20-year-old mall security guard, confirmed that on at least two occasions he’s had to speak to the former president about his behavior. “We started getting complaints that he was hanging around the men’s room asking guys if they wanted to have their picture taken with him,” said Mr. Martinez. “When I told him to stop, he said, ‘Let’s go sort it out over a game of Donkey Kong.’ So after my shift we went over to the arcade and I beat him in a best of three. Then he got all pissy and said Donkey Kong sucks anyways.”

Two sources have confirmed that former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice was recently enlisted by friends and former aides to speak to Mr. Bush about the situation. “She asked him point blank if it was true that he’d spent an entire afternoon doing nothing but riding up and down the escalators,” said the source. “The president got really defensive and refused to give Condi a straight answer.”

When the president left office nearly three years ago, it was announced that he would establish a “Freedom Institute” and work full-time toward promoting democracy and human rights throughout the world. But some close friends and former advisors admit privately that Mr. Bush has not made progress on either front. “He told me he was going to dedicate the rest of his life to confronting tyranny,” said one prominent GOP fundraiser. “I’m not sure how you do that by hanging around the mall challenging strangers to games of Ms. Pac-Man.”

In response to questions about the president’s schedule, a spokesman released the following statement. “The president continues to work towards advancing freedom around the world.”

GOP consultant Mark McKinnon, who is not involved in the campaign but is familiar with its strategy, said the decision to hire Mr. Nugent to speak for Goldman Sachs was based on thousands of focus groups and polls that were conducted over the last several months. “The focus groups loved Ted because he’s seen as a guy who doesn’t read books and who likes to shoot things,” said Mr. McKinnon. “And they felt he was their best proof that evolution, an unpopular concept among Tea Party voters, is total bullshit.” According to Mr. McKinnon, Goldman Sachs paid for its $1 billion in market research with profits made by betting against the capacity of homeowners to pay back the subprime mortgages it sold to them between 2004 and 2008.

A source familiar with the campaign’s thinking, who spoke on condition of strict anonymity, said the conglomerate will forgo donations altogether and instead finance the campaign with a portion of the $10 billion in taxpayer-funded bailout money the investment bank received in 2009. “The bailout funds will be converted into a new security they are calling ‘election default insurance arbitrage fixed income credit put straddles,’” said the source. “Goldman has already hedged those bets with mortgage-backed junk bond option default debit commodity exchange traded funds, which were sold to pension funds and small investors over the last several months.” The source said that Goldman has already made $25 billion with these investments.

Several public advocacy groups are already a considering a constitutional challenge to Goldman’s candidacy, arguing that the financial behomoth has — for all practical purposes — already been president for the last eight years and is therefore constitutionally barred from a third term. According to Mike Allen, chief White House correspondent for Politico, the investment bank is prepared for the legal challenge. “Last week they deployed all 12,498 of their lobbyists to Capitol Hill and have secured the votes for a historic piece of legislation,” said Mr. Allen. “The new law will allow Goldman Sachs  – and only Goldman Sachs — to offer up to $100 million each to all nine Supreme Court justices.” A spokesman for Speaker John Boehner refused to comment.

Goldman Sachs is only the second corporation in American history to run for president. The first was former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney.

I wrote all morning while my assigned “Efficiency Expert” stood over me with a clipboard and stopwatch, calculating my return on labor. At 11:30 he clicked the watch to a crisp stop and said, “Bathroom break. Ten minutes,” before pointing with a nipple-size cellphone toward a bank of industrial elevators.

I pressed my thumb against the security sensor and the doors whooshed open. As I descended to the basement a recorded voice said, “Remember, your Efficiency Expert is watching at all times.” I looked around for something to do, but the only thing I could come up with was to bend down with a handkerchief and apply a hasty shine to my shoes. When I left the elevator, the voice whispered, “You missed a spot.”

I saw no sign for the bathroom so I walked down a long empty corridor that dead-ended into a monstrous entryway shaped like Mitt Romney’s head. The damp hair was sculpted ever so beautifully, the powerful jaw chiseled like limestone, and the enormous mouth was wide open, revealing a set of stairs where the tonsils would have been. Each gleaming white tooth was emblazoned with a different corporate logo: everything from Chevron and  Goldman Sachs to Carl’s Jr. and Sit-N-Sleep. I glanced back and forth for Efficiency Experts or Hall Monitors and then, assuming the coast was clear, gingerly walked into Mitt Romney’s mouth and up through the dark circular staircase.

I emerged onto a Frito-Lay-sponsored landing, which overlooked a plane hangar that hummed with activity.  Small talking machines were descending from the ceiling, conveyer belts were transporting microchips, and lines of men in starched shirts marched past Rupert Murdoch, Michael Ovitz and Dr. Phil, all of whom sat regally atop a glass riser like a trio of grumpy dictators at a military parade. Dr. Phil licked his lips and then turned to a cowering assistant and demanded another tray of dumplings, while Mike Ovitz shouted, “Make that two!” and then itched one of the horns sticking out of his hairpiece.

Just off to the side of me and surrounded by McKinsey types in white lab coats, I spotted Gov. Romney sitting statue-still underneath a rectangular computer that hovered over his head like a Silicon Valley halo.

I crouched down and hid beside a 1-800-GOTJUNK water cooler.  Then I nearly fainted when one of the lab coat guys reached over and took the crown clean off Mitt Romney’s head! I expected to see blood or some kind of struggle, but instead, Gov. Romney just sat there with a wondrous smile affixed to his beautiful, hairless face. When they reached into his head and removed a microchip, it finally dawned on me: Mitt Romney, former governor of Massachusetts and candidate for president, is actually a synthetic robot droid owned and operated by a consortium of evil corporations (and Dr. Phil). The microchips that were being removed each came with different labels: “Pro-Choice,” “Pro Gay Rights,” “Gun-Control,” “Higher Taxes” and “No Capital Punishment.” The chips were placed in a box that said, “2002 Massachusetts Gubernatorial Campaign.”  Ryan Seacrest and David Rockefeller appeared, packed up the box and then wordlessly disappeared behind a billowing Amway curtain.

A new box of chips was taken from the levitating computer and placed ceremoniously into the hands of Jack Welch, who stood there red-faced and drunk wearing a T-shirt that said “He Likes You” with an arrow pointing to his genitals.  The group semi-bowed while Jack steadied himself and inserted the new chips into Mitt Romney’s head. “Pro-Guns,” “Pro-Life,” “No Capital Gains Taxes,” “No Gay Marriage,” “Death Penalty,” etc.

Just as the crown was fastened back onto Gov. Romney’s head, they wheeled his wife and sons into the area, unloaded each one and then stood them upright before a huge American flag, which was stamped with a giant image of the Geico Caveman. Then Dick Parsons unveiled a hand-held remote and, after some initial cursing and frustration, successfully navigated Gov. Romney over to his wonderful family of gorgeous droids, each of them dressed in a Christmas sweater and pleated khakis, the smell of apple pie wafting from their groins and underarms. The Romneys clasped hands and in perfect-pitch unison sang “God Bless America” while Donnie Osmond stood off to the side whispering words of encouragement into a microphone affixed to his red, white and blue lapel.

A tear came to my eye and I trembled a bit more than I’d like to admit. I wanted to join in the singing, but I knew I couldn’t. I wished I was wearing a Christmas sweater, or maybe a pair of those Romney khakis. The Romneys looked so good I wanted to eat them — or at least taste them, nibble them a bit. I wanted to be friends with Tagg, the oldest boy. He looked nice. And strong too. I liked his thick eyebrows. I wanted Ann Romney to hold me like an infant and tell me I lived in the greatest country in the world. I wanted Mitt to teach me the art of lifting weights and whisper the word “spreadsheet” into my ear as I fell asleep. Even though I knew they were all synthetic droid robots owned and operated by a consortium of evil corporations (and Dr. Phil),  I couldn’t help whispering to myself over and over and over again, “I love these people. I love these people. Holy Mother of Mary, I love these beautiful, blessed people.”