As the curtain mercifully falls on the Most Important Election of Your Lifetime, the nation breathes a collective sigh of relief. Or do they?

Sure, there were enough Byzantine plot twists and darkly rich comic characters to exhaust Dostoyevsky’s older smarter brother. And I imagine more than a few of you woke up spent, limp, barely able to grasp your coffee cup and raise it to quivering lips; tertiary casualties of election fatigue. But, now that the votes have been tallied and the results buried deep in Almanac City, you’re happier than John McCain in a flag factory.

Then this column is not for you. This is for the millions of us political junkies who feel emptier than a Chrysler SUV showroom. Whose zest for life has faded like the colors of the posters in a video store window, facing west.

Obama’s new administration does guarantee a steady stream of politics blaring from the front pages, but far short of the decibel level we’ve inured ourselves to. Chris Matthews may continue to bellow, but it will be a shell of his former shrill. Joe Biden undoubtedly will insert his foot in his mouth so often that he should invest in mint-flavored shoelaces to facilitate flossing, but who has the energy to throw his blunders up on YouTube? And if they do, so what? If a faux pas is uploaded and no eyeballs visit, is it really a gaffe?

It wasn’t just the horse race; the sidereal sideshows were just as intriguing. Since the middle of 2006, electoral Web sites sprang up like mushroom spores in a cow field after a Wisconsin spring rain. Rachel Maddow became a video star. Cable ratings crested higher than the Stanford band after a homecoming win in the ’60s. The rise and fall of un- and inevitable candidates, surges, purges and financial lurches, and Keith Olbermann, riveted us like so many 3-year-olds holding a Mason jar full of paisley-painted fireflies.

What I’m saying is, I don’t want to live in a world without presidential campaigning. And don’t give me that midterm stuff either. I need the real thing. I want XM satellite radio’s POTUS Oh Eight to become POTUS One Two. And because I know nobody else will do it, I’ve put together a snapshot of the field for the next presidential election. Yes, now. After all, November 6, 2012, is only 48 short months away. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to jump-start your engines. And in answer to your inevitable question: No. Not even for a second.

The very first handicapping of the 2012 presidential race:

Sarah Palin. Inside track goes to Queen of Moosylvania. 4 to 1.

Mitt Romney. 4 more years of craggy and grey might be just the ticket. 15 to 1.

Rudy Giuliani. “Daddy. What was 9/11?” 80 to 1.

Piyush “Bobby” Jindal. How about changing the change? 40 to 1.

Chuck Norris. You know actors. That Huckabee thing was pure rehearsal. 100 to 1.

Arnold Schwarzenegger. First we must change the Constitution. No Problemo. 50 to 1.

Jeb Bush. You think the Bush stops here? All the country needs is a little sorbet. 30 to 1.

Michael Bloomberg. You can spend as much as you want? Who knew? 80 to 1.

Tina Fey. She and Sarah could run together on the Doppelganger Ticket. 300 to 1.

Hillary Clinton. This time, it’s personal. 10 to 1.

Bill Clinton. Three terms? Hey, Bloomberg did it. 500 to 1.

Al Gore. In the unlikely event the planet survives. 20 to 1.

Bill Richardson. All right. I’ll shave. But not for secretary of state. 30 to 1.

George Clooney. President McDreamy. 100 to 1.

Oprah Winfrey. You heard me, girl. 25 to 1.

Dennis Kucinich. Every election needs a mascot. 1,000 to 1.

Joe Lieberman. You want bipartisan? How about anti- partisan? 400 to 1.

Ralph Nader. Fifth time’s the charm. 315,000,000 to 1.

Like all political comics, Will Durst is akin to an Olympic athlete, with a career every four years for a month. That month is over. He now enters hyperfasia.