In case you missed it, John Forbes Kerry went before some women’s group in Washington last week and said: “I am not going to go quietly into the night.”

Quietly, loudly, nobody cares how you go, Liveshot, just as long as you go.

He spoke for an hour — talk about cruel and unusual punishment for an audience. During the course of those 60 interminable minutes, Kerry claimed he hasn’t decided exactly what he’s going to do next, so let’s help him out with some suggestions.

How about opening an Iranian restaurant?

He could call it The 12th Imam — try the lamb kabob. It’s THE BOMB!

Before dinner, have a drink in our cozy lounge, the Allah Akh-Bar. In the finest tradition of the Revolutionary Guards, the first shot is on the house. It has more kick than an IED.

He could endow the John F. Kerry Chair for Advanced Gigolo Studies at Yale University.

He could finish his tour of duty in Vietnam.

He could open a windsurfing academy on Nantucket, or join Jeb Bush in doing 100 really cool things, or become a building inspector in Aleppo.

Kerry has endlessly prattled on about his concern for “climate refugees,” so maybe he could welcome 50,000 or so of them to a new sanctuary … on Naushon Island.

He could join the Boston Fire Department as a fire hydrant relocation specialist.

Or do pro bono legal work for all those nice young men being detained so unjustly at Guantanamo Bay.

Is the Chanticleer Inn looking for a new maitre d’?

He could spend the winter in his second wife’s first husband’s trust fund’s mansion on Beacon Hill and clear the sidewalks of all that snow that he claims no longer falls because of global warming.

He could reform his old prep-school band, The Electras, and open for James Taylor on his upcoming I’m-Not-Quite-Dead-Yet tour.

He could go back to sleeping in the back seat of his Chrysler LeBaron convertible.

Do you remember how, in the 2004 campaign, Kerry claimed that he’d once run the Boston Marathon — but he couldn’t remember the year? Yeah, right.

Along those lines, may I suggest that he create a new line of running gear — with Rosie Ruiz.

Another of his implausible assertions during that 2004 campaign was that he once was deer hunting on Cape Cod and had a 24-point buck in his sights. Do you know how much hunters would pay a guide who could lead them to a 24-point buck — on Cape Cod?!

Duck boat skipper. Or perhaps he could back a startup company conducting river tours in Cambodia. Call it, Magic Hat Tours.

Botox infomercial spokesman. (“Botox — it’s not just for Nancy Pelosi anymore!”)

He could chair a Heinz-family-funded commission to determine once and for all — is it spelled “ketchup” or “catsup?”

Do the Red Sox need a new color man? (“Now batting, Manny Ortez … the score in this match is, Detroit 2, Red Stockings 3.”)

Now John Kerry will finally have time to get around to all those household chores he’s been neglecting, like putting training wheels on his pink girlie bicycle.

Or building a bomb shelter, just in case that Iranian nuke deal isn’t quite the boon he and Obama have deluded themselves into thinking it is.

He could begin the hunt for his next big heiress payday. They say what happens twice happens thrice.

Surely there’s some 90-year-old dowager out there he could be bamboozling.

He could move to Hollywood and play Herman in a remake of The Munsters, or Lurch in a sequel to The Addams Family. (He looks more like a Lurch to me.)

Here’s the bottom line, Mr. Secretary. It’s last call. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

Let me put it another way. Don’t go away mad, just go away.

Listen to Howie from 3-7 p.m. on WRKO AM 680.


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