I Will Never Vote Again

This is it; I've had it, I quit, no more. I've rearranged my thoughts and they have decided I'm never voting again. It only encourages politicians. It's like feeding French fries (oops, sorry, Freedom fries) to one of those obnoxious yappy little dogs; if you feed them they're going to keep begging, and if you quit they growl and give you dirty looks and tell you all the awful things that are going to happen to you... but never do. My response: the same as in the movie Something About Mary when Ben Stiller ducked and the family-jewels-chompin' dog flew out the window and then found he had several vertical stories to travel down to the hard, hard horizontal ground.

I voted for Dubya even thought I had serious reservations about the rather simian cast to his inbred head. The whole family appears to have been pithed and is now retro-evolving right before my eyes, which is good, because in a few dozen years they'll all be harmless amoebas, although with narrow, rudimentary heads and squinty eyes. Then they can sit on their tiny little microscopic couches with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other, and curse at whatever episode of Spongebob Squareturban they wish.

I cringe every time Dubya squints his eyes and wrinkles his forehead like he's giving birth to thoughts that are really hurting him as they shoot down his brain-canal. Is that what foreigners really think Americans are? A bunch of gooneybirds flying over to the Middle East and whacking hornet's nests?

Dubya looks as if he could be one of the bit actors on Planet of the Apes, only with the minimum amount of makeup. At first he appeared to be just an amiable, aimless sort of guy, with a puzzled expression that reminded me of an organ-grinder's monkey who vaguely knew something was wrong, but hadn't yet realized someone has stolen his cap. If it hadn't been for the war, I believe Bush would have been a happily mediocre President, pushing though a tax cut that would give me enough money to make one-and-one-third car payments. And that's for a Chevy Cavalier, which is sort of a glorified go-cart. Now Dubya's turned into a self-appointed Prophet of God.

When someone talks to God it's called prayer. But what's it called when the President of the United States thinks God talks to him? I don't have a punch line because it would have to be a joke to have a punch line.

My vote wasn't so much for Dubya as it was against the Gorebot, whom I truly believe to be a one-foot-over-the-line-and-the-other-slipping, not-quite-certifiable lunatic trapped inside a mutant version of Pinocchio. Gore is a perfect example of what the word "preposterous" really means: having your front where you back should be. It shows where Gore's head is located as a permanent fixture. Let's just say he can't sit down without smushing his nose. Just as bad, he appears to have been born with his brain not only put in backwards, but also upside down. Unless some wiseguy-joker aliens did it, and that wouldn't surprise me at all.

I knew there was only about .00000000001% of a chance my vote would make any difference, but who knows? The election could have been a draw, and my vote could have been the one that tipped it! It's one of those fantasies I have, like winning the lottery or being the star of Revenge of the Nerds, Part III.

Now, I've decided I'm never going to vote again. Since the State is a vast, disorganized criminal enterprise, I've decided the only people who make it to the top are A) criminals, and B) clueless knuckleheads who the criminals put up to be President. These are the kinds of people with whom I certainly don't want to share a Kodak moment. Why should I encourage criminals by voting for them?

Bah, I'd rather be ruled by the Mafia. Even if Marlon "Mumbles" Brando did have tissue stuffed in his mouth in The Godfather I'd still rather deal with him than Dubya or the Gorebot. Or Hillbillyboy and his big-booty Satan-girl wife. Ah, decision, decisions. It's like choosing between thumbscrews and a cattle prod.

I've decided politics is a rat-race. The problem with it is that whoever wins is still a rat. Even if the rats do wear suits and ties.

If the only choices I have are John Dillinger or Bugsy Siegel – or Mortimer Snerd or Alfred E. Newman – why should I vote for any of them? From now on, I'm going to assume all politicians have cooties. No, wait – they are cooties. I'd like to stuff nearly all of them into a spaceship and shoot them to a planet where they would be treated like the Zanti Misfits in the original Outer Limits. You remember the one – the episode about the big ants with human faces? Where people were stomping on them with their size-12 Army boots?

I used to say that the only people worse than politicians were child molesters. I've decided politicians are worse. They harm hundreds of millions more people. Child molesters are immoral and illegal; politicians are immoral but unfortunately still legal. I keep having all these weird thoughts, like God was really hung over when he created politicians. And then the next day He goes, "Oh, Man...did I really do that?"

As for the difference between child molesters and the leftist, chickenhawk, armchair-general warmongers known as neocons, child molesters at least have equipment that the neocons lack, which accounts for the cowardice that compels neocons to stand on the sidelines and babble worthless advice while others fight and die ("Okay, now throw the ball here. Now, throw it over there."). These are the kind of sleep-walking weenies who could accidentally destroy the earth, then say, "Uh, sorry...I didn't mean for that to happen." That wouldn't be good, because the earth is where I keep all my stuff.

I have ceased watching news or talking-head programs on TV, because every time I did this is what happened: "(Expletive)! (Semi-Blasphemous Expletive)! (Physically Impossible Self-Referential Expletive)!"

I've decided that the State is much like a runaway train with no brakes. Sooner or later it's going to crash. For example, the ancient Greeks noticed that republics turn into democracies, democracies turn into tyrannies, and tyrannies turn into monarchies. Right now, we appear to be in between democracy and tyranny. I plan on hiding if this happens, and if it does happen, will pass the time doing something useful, like turning a canoe into a grandfather clock, a trick I learned from the "Red Green Show."

Whenever politicians start bursting with ideas, the country always suffers. Is that phrase in the Bible? It should be. And now we've got the neocons coming up with what they think are completely foolproof plans to conquer a double-digit percentage of the world. They are clueless to the fact that complete fools (which is what they are) cannot come up with completely foolproof plans. And they have no idea of the ingenuity of the complete fools they are attempting to conquer! As Yogi Berri said, "It ain't over till it's over, baby." And apparently this war isn't going to be over for a long time.

The people supporting the plans for an American global policeman – an American Empire – are a big ugly Critters-like mass of self-deception, hubris, and blindness. Tell them they're wrong, and they won't believe it. Prove them wrong, and they still won't believe it. It's like trying to talk to one of those stuffed, mummified cats under glass at an Egyptian exhibition at the museum ("Sorry, but my brain was removed 2500 years ago.").

They think they can violate Natural Law and change the cultures of other countries through mass murder, mass destruction and mass theft. They think the invaded aren't going to fight back and instead welcome us with open arms as liberators? ("Yeah, I know, you killed my family, but, ah, what the heck, it was an attempt to free them from tyranny.") Violating Natural Law and saying "It's for a good reason" is the same as someone religious thinking they can bribe God. ("Ah, come on, it's for a really noble cause. Hey, now wait just a minute!" ZZZZOTZ!)

Our "government" is getting way too big. That's what always happens when States follow the Empire route (which is the Road to Hell. And that's not a movie with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby.). And it doesn't even matter anymore who you vote for. The State just keeps getting bigger and badder. And what happens with the big, bad State? Well, in 300 BC Mencius wrote, "When good government prevails men of little worth submit to men of great worth. When bad government prevails men of little power submit to men of great power."

Or, if you want to take a hop over to ancient Greece, this is what Dionysius of Halicarnassus said in 20 BC: "A good government produces citizens distinguished for courage, love of justice, and every other good quality; a bad government makes them cowardly, rapacious, and the slave of every foul desire." Hey, William Kristol, Norman Podhoretz, Richard Perle, don't you try to run! Smack.

Speaking of smack – as in smackdown – the story is that Norman Podhoretz once cornered Jackie Kennedy and professed his infatuation to her. If you've ever seen Podhoretz you'll realize he wasn't beat with the Ugly Stick – he is the Ugly Stick. Apparently she fixed him with the icy eyeball, and like a pin through a bug, skewered him and put permanent holes into his deluded self- importance with, "Mr. Podhoretz, exactly who do you think you are?" I'm going to have to think of a new word to describe people like Podhoretz – gork, maybe. A combination of "dork" and "geek." Soon after Podhoretz was involuntarily enlightened with the truth about himself, he begins his trek to the right, only taking his leftist baggage with him. What next? Maybe William Kristol thinking he has a chance with Julia Roberts? He wouldn't stand a chance with Rosanne Barr. He was, after all, beat with the Norman Podhoretz Stick.

Oh, yeah, this is just great. We're now being ruled by the tribe of monkeys that Rudyard Kipling called the Bander-Log. Every once in a while they got together, shook the treetops and yelled, "We are great. We are free. We are wonderful. We are the most wonderful people in all the Jungle! We all say so, and so it must be true!" And of course reality falls right into place if you just yell at it long and loud enough.

Dang it, I should be King. I'd follow the wisdom of what King James I said in 1620: "I will govern according to the common weal, but not according to the common will." Democracy – ugh. Democracy's what put Clinton and Bush into office, and almost saddled us with Gore.

My being King might just happen some day. It's on my list, although pretty far down. Way far down, actually. The comic strip Calvin and Hobbes said it best: "God put me on Earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind I will never die."

But voting? Forget it. From now on I'll give the answer that the cowardly, warmongering chicken-hawk armchair-warrior Dick Cheney gave when asked why he avoided military service during Vietnam (with four deferments!): "I had other priorities."