And Wearing a Sexy Political T-shirt Does Not Make You Guilty

For those being bombarded by phone calls urging you to be sure to go vote for Yosemite Sam or the Transformational Unicorn Party, here’s a reason to shun the polls:

My working metaphor for politics is gang rape. If 9 rapists and a woman are in a room and hold a vote, it's 9-1 in favor of raping the woman. If the woman doesn't vote, it's 9-0. Same result. But at least the victim doesn't have to sanctify the process that violates her rights. I am no longer going to go to the polls to give legitimacy to these criminal politicians.

Whatever you do tomorrow, do it for a well-thought reason. I’m not one of the campaign-sign-clad automatons standing on the street corner or manning the phone banks who insist that you vote, “even if for the other guy”. Being part of the process requires an active and engaged choice. If you’re not active and engaged by now, some yutz working a call list can’t redeem you by telling you where your polling place is. Voting ignorant is like shooting blindly into a crowd.

Voting is noble, and a right to be cherished. It is beautiful, just like sex. But if you do not like the boys at the dance, do not feel compelled to tango. Pick your partners wisely, because it will not be a one-night relationship. Better to sleep alone than with wolves.

I am, however, voting. Not so much for (or against) the top of the ballot, but to participate in the local questions that have a greater and more direct impact on my life and the operations of the Negative Railroad. Obiden and McPalin are not the ones who raise my property taxes, mismanage my local schools, and resist sending petty thugs to prison.