Hi! This is my first TL, and I hope you all like it. I'm starting it today since today is the Colonel's birthday, and I'm planning on posting a chapter every Thursday or so starting next week. Questions and comments welcomed. Enjoy!
Kentucky Fried Politics: A Colonel Sanders TL
(Originally titled “President Sanders (Relax! This Isn’t Current Politics!): A KFC TL”)
By gap80
(With a giant credit of thanks to Gentleman Biaggi)
Prologue: A Brief Flash-Forward
"It always seems impossible until it is done"
– Nelson Mandela
“Consarn it! How many did we lose?”
“A lot.”
“Yes, but how many?”
“Dozens on our sides, over a thousand on their side at the least.”
"Oh, Dang-blast it,” Father’s face as turning red with rage.
“It’s a tactical victory, sir,” William commented.
Father was quick to reply, “Over a thousand, Bill! Have you forgotten what I said already?” Father groaned in frustration and returned to his spot on the couch, the situation weighing down on him like a flour sack on a runt mule. He folded his hands atop his cane as he mulled over his thoughts, venting the anger out through his nostrils until his breathing was calmer. Then he sighed to himself “Lord forgive me” before asking, “Any word on where Henry is?”
“Still waiting for a reply from his office, sir.”
Father sunk a bit in his seat. To me, he had a look that for most of his life he had rarely ever worn, but was wearing the look more and more often every day, it seemed. He looked like he was lost for what to do next.
I took a seat beside him, “Don’t worry, Pop. We’ll figure this out.”
Father turned to me with concern swimming in his eyes, “Do you remember when you had your tonsils removed, son?”
“Vaguely,” I answered, “I remember only being awake for half of the time that I should have been.”
“You got very sick. An infection, I think. I don’t know if it was somehow some common mistake or if the doctor was an idiot and he made a mistake. Maybe he didn’t wash his hands, maybe he wasn’t as careful as he should have been. But I remember how sick you got, I remember your fever, and the color leaving your face. For days you were bedridden and in and out of consciousness. I’ve been through a lot of things in my life, and that was the most terrifying of them, both then and even now. I was so frightened that I would lose you, my son. I tongue-lashed that doctor somethin’ fierce over it, I was so angry and frightened.” He rubbed his brow with his hand, “But all the shoutin' in the world couldn't keep me from feeling so…useless. I didn’t know what to do to help you. I kept thinking, ‘Oh Lord, why can’t I do anything? I can’t save my son.’ All I could do was pray. But then, by some chance, by some miracle, you recovered
[1]. As simple as that, your color returned to your face and the illness left.”
“Maybe your anger scared the doc into workin’ better to save me,” I suggested.
“Maybe,” Father replied, “but that’s the thing. We can never know if something will work or make something happen until after the thing has happened. We tried this approach here, and it hasn’t worked. In my opinion, the situation is now worse. They could now be even more reluctant to sit down with us…one thousand, my god…”
After a brief moment of thought, I commented, “we fought fire with fire, but it wasn’t the right fire.” My eye wandered over to the picture of George Washington hanging on the wall nearby, and I commented, “You know, you remind me a lot of him, Father. He swore like a madman and still found glory in the darkest of times through sheer resilience. Crossing the Delaware in the frigid cold and all that.”
Father suddenly lifted in head in revelation, “By gummit, that’s it!”
“What is?”
“Junior, how’d we win the Revolutionary War? By standing in orderly lines? No, that’s what the British did and they lost! Gentlemen!” He now turned his attention to his other advisers, huddled around at the main table.
“Yes sir!” they all barked.
“We have to try a more effective approach. We tried to go in there with our most advanced tools and
this was the response,” holding up one of the photos. “No, no, we have to be more clandestine. Gentlemen, I think we need to seriously organize an 'un-criticize-able' response to this mess. We need to tweak our traditional approaches. But not only that! There’s also something else on my mind.”
“You got some ideas, Pop?” I asked curiously, a small grin forming on my face.
“Oh, just wait, Junior,” Father chuckled, “Like my chicken before it’s fried, we ain’t licked yet!”
– Harland David “Harley” Sanders Jr., In the Thick of It: The Story of The Colonel and His Son, Sunrise Publishing, 1991
NOTE
[1] The POD:
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/72197162/harland-david-sanders
...You'll find out eventually... 
I hope it will be interesting...thanks!
I'm not going to spoil my own TL, but I will tell you that he will meet and interact with both of them
Indeed I did!
You also helped with choosing the title, the title card, with ironing out the details of the POD and with planning out key plot points! Don't sell yourself short; you were a big help! Thank you!
Lol, maybe...
There's no evidence suggesting he was racist that I could find. In fact, I found more to suggest that he was pretty progressive and forward-thinking for his time (which I'll cover in more detail in upcoming chapters). IMO, Wallace likely offered it to him not due to racial views but more likely because of The Colonel's fame, businesses success, being a known Republican (so the ticket would have been more bipartisan in nature had it unfolded that way I guess) and most likely because of his OTL comments regarding protestors and J. Edgar Hoover, which will also be covered in an upcoming chapter as well.
Thanks for all the comments and positive feedback, everyone! I really appreciate it!
5/2/2021 EDIT: Also, here’s a link to a photos thread for this TL, created on 3/1/2021 by
@PNWKing:
https://www.alternatehistory.com/forum/threads/photos-from-kentucky-fried-politics.506103/
