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Charlie Hatton
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Howdy, friendly reading person!
I'm on a bit of a hiatus right now, but only to work on other projects -- one incredibly exciting example being the newly-released kids' science book series Things That Make You Go Yuck!
If you're a science and/or silliness fan, give it a gander! See you soon!

Apparently, My Vote Doesn’t ‘Rock’

See, this is why I don’t get involved in politics.

On Sunday afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was a man — a local politico wannabe, running for town selectman, or county comptroller, or city council footstool, or one of those other made-up offices. He was canvassing the neighborhood, handing out flyers and touching base with the locals. Answering questions. Fielding concerns. Accepting any spare change that might be offered, too, no doubt.

(I don’t know — I didn’t offer any. For one thing, if the guy’s got the money to xerox his ugly mug onto five hundred pamphlets down at Kinko’s, then he doesn’t need whatever pittance I’d be willing to give him.

And for another — the dude showed up on Sunday afternoon, for chrissakes. How can you trust a man who’s not at home on the couch, watching football, guzzling beer and stuffing Doritos at that hour? Is that who we want our councilmens’ and councilwomens’ feet resting on next spring? No. No, it is not.)

Anyway, he seemed to want to chat — and it was halftime in the football game, so I decided to humor him. It’s not every day that I talk to a politician — or think about them, or wonder what they’re up to, or acknowledge their existence in any form whatsoever. My take on politics has always been the same attitude I’ve had about prostate exams:

I don’t want to know what goes on. I don’t want to think about what goes on. One day, perhaps, I’ll be forced to participate — and that’s when I’ll read a pamphlet, drop trou, bend over, and get involved in the ‘process’. Until then, don’t talk to me about it, don’t tell me how much better I’ll feel afterwards, and don’t try to explain the inner workings of the machine. And no, I’m not shaking your hand, getthatthingawayfromme.

But hey, here was one of them, right there on my porch. Scientists call that a ‘learning opportunity’. How could I not enrich my knowledge by positing a few politically pertinent puzzlers? So, I did:

Candidate Man: Hi, my name is <name withheld, mostly because I didn’t bother to remember it>!

Me: Um, hi. Can I help you?

Candidate Man: Well, I’m running for <school board minion, maybe? I forget>, and I wanted to meet my neighbors. How are you today?

Me: Fine. Look, the Eagles are on, and —

Candidate Man: So, I was just wondering if you had any questions for me? Anything to help you make this important decision in a few days?

Me: Ah. Okay… how about abortion, then? That’s a hot topic, right? Where you at with abortion?

Candidate Man: Well, um… I’m not sure that’ll come up in the school board meetings, frankly.

Me: Really? So, there’s no ‘Abortion 101’ class?

Candidate Man: Not that I’m aware of, no.

Me: Oh. Well, what about gay marriage, then?

Candidate Man: Look, I’d only be involved with the middle school in town; I really don’t —

Me: Wait, wait, wait. What if it’s only lesbian weddings? Does that make it any better? Nude lesbian weddings. In Jell-O! Can you pass a law for that?

Candidate Man: That’s not really in my… um, area. Maybe we should talk about —

Me: Ooh, then there’s the death penalty. Whaddaya think about that, eh? You like that? Zapping people in the electric chair? You a fryer? I bet you’re a fryer.

Candidate Man: It’s never really come up. We only have detention halls. Look, none of this is relevant to the office; this is about educating our kids.

Me: I see, I see. You one of those intelligent design people, then? Gonna teach that to the kids, are you?

Candidate Man: Well, now that the board has discussed. But it’s too early to —

Me: Me, I believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster theory. When’re we gonna get FSM into the schools, eh? You gonna do that for me?

Candidate Man: I… honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.

Me: Eh, it’s just a theory. Still, can’t beat evolution, right? I mean, you go into that school, and see those young kids. Every day, you must say to yourself, ‘These kids are so much… less hairy than I am.’ That’s evolution at work, right there.

Candidate Man: You know… I’ve got a lot of houses to get to. Maybe I should just —

Me: What about Bible thumping? You gonna have the kids pray in school? Ooh! Can they pray to the spaghetti monster? That would be so cool. Do that, man, do that.

Candidate Man: Look, it’s getting late. I hear your football game coming back on; I should be going.

Me: Hey, hey, wait. ‘Tuesdays Are Topless Days’ at the office; that can be, like, a campaign thing. You would absolutely get the vote out with that. Well, half the vote, anyway — plus all those lesbians you’re gonna marry up.

Candidate Man: You… that’s not even… I can’t… I mean, how would you enforce such a thing?

Me: Only for the hot chicks, though. Gotta be at least a ‘6’ to go topless. Otherwise — electric chair. Hey, speaking of which, where do you stand on making ‘not using your frigging turn signal’ a capital offense?

Candidate Man:

Me: ‘Cause I’ve been writing my Congressman on that one for years, and nothing’s happened. You could be a big help there.

Candidate Man: I’m going now. Please — don’t vote for me. Or put up a sign, or tell your friends. Or try and follow me. Frankly, if you could just move out of my district, I would sleep a lot better at night. For the kids, you understand.

Me: Jeez, fine. Be that way; I’m just trying to be involved in local politics. Sheesh.

Candidate Man: Can I have the pamphlet back? I really don’t think I want you having a copy of my picture, either.

Me: Okay, sure. Good luck in whichever race thing or other it is. Spaghetti Monster blessings be upon you!

Douche. He’ll never win, whichever toadying position it is. Guy’s got no vision. I’m telling you: ‘Topless Tuesdays’, plus lesbians marrying in Jell-O, killing off asshole drivers, and worshipping the spaghetti god? That’s got landslide written all over it. There’s something for everyone there; you could name PeeWee Herman as your VP, and ride that ticket to the White House, for chrissakes. It’s can’t-miss.

See? See? This is why I don’t get involved in politics.

Permalink  |  1 Comment



One Response to “Apparently, My Vote Doesn’t ‘Rock’”

  1. whenever the jehovahs come a calling, i open the door wearing nothing but a spiked neck collar, and holding one of those air-filled lady dolls. works about like your q&a did, but after they have run off, i still have the collar, and the doll. great piece. no not the doll, your post today.

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