While Bres the Beautiful was busy conspiring with the Fomoire, the Dagda was putting together a campaign to run for a position on the war council. Shmoop was able to get a hold of his entry in the voter's pamphlet and an extremely rare brainstorming session—unedited—for the campaign's slogan. We know the Dagda was successful in securing a leadership position, so let's take a look at his convincing campaign.
War Council Seat for District 2
Leader of the Tuatha De Danann under King Nuada
Other Professional Experience
Magician, artisan builder, chef, expert harp-player, certified to carry and wield an exceptionally large and blunt weapon
Helped to win Ireland for the Tuatha De Danann in the fight against the Fir Bolg 27 years ago. Played harp and performed magic tricks at the last six charity auctions for the School for Wee Lads and Lassies. Nursed a basket of sick kittens back to health.
This island was supposed to be our land. After we landed here and beat back the Fir Bolg, we ushered in a new era—one of great learning and incredibly impressive magic. Bres was a terrible ruler: for a man who claimed to be one of our own, I don't recall he ever invited anyone over for dinner. He was greedy and whiny, and now that we've given him the boot, he's rallying the Fomoire to meet us in battle. They must not win! We cannot allow Bres-the-Brat and Balor-with-his-Freaky-Eye enslave our extremely bright and independent people!
I propose a plan: it involves such exciting and fool-proof endeavors as (a) spying, (b) sleeping with the enemy, and (c) using my club and my harp to kill hundreds of these dudes. That's right: I will sleep with all the enemy hunnies and kill people with musical instruments for you.
To any of you I may have offended in the past—either by sleeping with your wives and/or daughters, or as a result of that one time when I got a bit carried away with a box of whoopee cushions—I apologize. I consider myself an honorable man. I've had my dalliances and made some wrong choices, sure. But what is more important: a man's weaknesses or the number of generous acts that far outweigh them? I know every one of you has come to my house to feast on many occasions. I delight in sharing my roasty pigs and my endless tree fruits with you.
They call me the Dagda, the Good God, because I am good at getting things done.
With me, your vote is in remarkably strong, capable hands. Thank you for your consideration.
The Morrígan, representative of generally-unallied swing voters
For More Information
Meeting Participants: The Dagda (denoted by a D) and his editor, the (in)famous physician Dian Cecht (denoted by an Ed.)
Father of All for the Good of All —D
too pretentious —Ed.
Team Dagda: We're the "Good" Guys —D
sounds like an auto repair commercial —Ed.
(can we make a joke about "Rebel Yell"?) (is that too sexy?) (is that even funny?) —D
no, yes it is, no –Ed.
Don't Swap Horses in Midstream —D
okay, in addition to not making sense here, you just stole that from Abe Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt. —Ed.
yeah, I know, it's an homage —D
Dag, yo —D
…just, no. —Ed.
Dag-Does What the Other Guys Don't! —D
You know what? This'll do. Let's call it a day. —Ed.
I'm sad that you're not more excited about this, but I'll take it. —D