No Sleep Till November
Received my voter registration card in the mail yesterday; or more accurately, I received my re-issued voter reg. card as my previous one disappeared in one of the many moves I made since it was originally entrusted to me in 1995. I obviously didn�t miss this piece of American heritage, the right to vote that is, post 1995. Once I helped Slick Willy wriggle his way into 4 more years of taking up residence in the House that is White, my urge to vote on pretty much anything dissipated in a mass orgy of alcohol related social activities. Post September 1996, I was of legal drinking age and took to this new status in my life like a tick on a hound-dog; I sucked it dry for all I was worth. In fact I dimly recall taking the day off to specifically get loaded and stumble to my polling place to cast my votes and usher in four more years of contentment, social & economic boom and cigar smoking jokes. For the rest of the 90�s it seemed utterly pointless to have my say in any local or state sponsored electoral activities; let�s face it, I wasn�t the only one who expected the world to end come Jan. 1, 2000.
But alas, the world still stands or at least, some semblance of a world I once knew still exists. A dark cloud now hangs and I will lay the blame squarely on my own shoulders. It seems my refusal to participate in the mockery known as the 2000 presidential election backfired rather significantly in my face. It seems that this particular election year was the one that I shouldn�t have missed; one-man one vote finally met something since the long-forgotten Truman-Dewey debacle that has faded into the pages of high school history books. Four tortured years later, big business and corporations have regained control over the House that Is White, under the disguise of the demon puppet from Texas known to the world as Dubyah, the doofy, The great president Bush Number two or more accurately; the man who fucked up my country.
Short of pulling a John Wilks Booth, my only option is to rise up and do my civic duty as a non-god fearing american and run his ass back to texas with his tail tucked between his legs like the beaten dog he has become. I am trying to come up with some sort of tacky, hurtful and offensive catch phrase to print on T-shirts that I can sport when I cast my vote. Thankfully, I have until November to come up with something clever. As of right now, my passion is burning a little too hotly and I have only been able to come up with a very uncreative, �GIVE ME MY FUCKIN COUNTRY BACK YOU SWINE�.
Voting in and of itself also creates another issue that I loathe to think about right now. I will not allow myself to vote half-assed and pick names at random or vote straight party lines (registered Independent, thank you very much). Therefore, I am going to have to swallow down the bile and actually pay attention to state and city positions that are up for grabs. On a final side note to my re-submersion into politics, I am hoping that a Comptroller position is up for grabs, so that I can right in Homer Simpson. You will have to be a true freak of the show to realize the underlying humor when I say, �The Garbage man Can!�
I am very worried that John Kerry is going to self-destruct and his head is going to implode when he debates Edwards in the near future. The united states can�t have this sort of melt down with the future of our souls at stake. Ralph Nader is apparently the anti-christ and even though I love some of the stuff he fights for, I�d like to thank him for being the H. Ross Perot of the 2000�s era. If he fucks this up and Dubyah gets re-elected, so help me�I�m moving to Canada. Death by SARS and being frozen for 7 months out of the year sounds a lot better than choking on the scraps that George will throw to us after he destroys my country; then again, maybe all go south with my Latina lover and take up residence in the jungles of Peru. Hell, even Haiti is starting to sound good right about now. I have the Fear and this, dearest of diaries, is not a good sign at all.
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