I like to think that nearly half of my readers are intelligent human beings. I take it for granted then that many of you have noticed that something is very, very wrong.
It dawned on me one day as I was examining a ballot for the primary election. Sure, it had crossed my mind before on many occasions, but this was a pivotal moment, the big A-ha! wherein I could readily point my finger at something tangible so that even a normal, emotionally deadened, malnourished, and overworked average American could be persuaded to agree with me: there was only one name on the ballot. Sure, there were many people running for office, but for most positions there was one name sitting there staring you in the face. To be fair, these names didn’t just sit there staring out at you, but instead stood up bold and threatening; as if to say, “Like I care- I don’t need your vote, I’m getting in whether you like it or not- Sucker.”
There is only one recourse in this situation. You must write in someone respectable, safe, wise, and preferably dead. Samuel Clemens will do in a pinch. For position one district judge this year I voted for Oscar Wilde; someone with a little experience in the judicial field.
As for the rest of the ballot, it shaped into a race between Bob Jones and Fred Jones. Sure, in print they had a lot of different names, and each one had something negative to say about the other, but isn’t that the way in every family? You could be rest assured that in their heart they were all proud members of the Jones tribe. You knew that when it was over they were all going to get together at the family reunion in the summer and laugh about it, while they ate your food.
And that’s why so many people don’t vote. The media may moan and pontificate about it but they will never, never hint at the real reason.
These people are nothing but visitors you should not welcome into your home. There was a commercial that got a lot of play on television in the 80’s & early 90’s where a large pitcher of kool-aid came crashing through the wall and into the lives of some unsuspecting children. They all welcomed the gatecrasher with open arms, celebrating in the alleviation of everyday monotony. They were happy to see him. Not once did anyone chime in, “Hey, our house has just become structurally unstable. Who’s going to have to clean this mess up?”
There is a lesson in there somewhere- we may be homeless tomorrow, shivering in the street and without access to health care, decent education, or affordable housing- but for today we will have kool-aid. We’ll pay for it on credit. And we’ll never let anyone take that most basic of American freedoms away from us.
Haukuna Matata. No worries.
But why does the kool-aid man, himself a large pitcher of redish artificially sweetened water, carry a small pitcher of the same substance in his hand? These are the eternal mysteries- such as, why can’t I vote for someone who isn’t on the corporate dole?