Somewhere around this time last year, as Mitt Romney was in the third year of his second run for the presidency, and the Republican field had been narrowed to the population of several states from a number just a few short of infinity I decided that it might be necessary actually to vote for someone who existed, who was a real person. And so, I thought about voting for Mr. Romney, tall, handsome, smart and honest.
I had not voted for a human being in the last two elections; choosing instead to vote for Michael Mouse. I had even dreamed up a slogan for the little fellow’s campaign: MY MAN IS A MOUSE! I spoke to my friends, and may have convinced one or two of them (which would have been, possibly, more than I had of friends) to join in with me and promote MM’s run for the highest office in the land.
But, then, I listened to other voices, people whose powers of persuasion moved me to reconsider my position. “It is silly,” they said, “you are just throwing away your vote by going into that booth and writing in the name of a cartoon character. It is a senseless and meaningless gesture.” I tried to argue that given the man occupying that office (who still occupies it) , and the fellow who had occupied it during the previous eight years, and the line -up of opponents/prospective candidates available, voting for someone who was a cartoon character seemed to me to make more sense than anything else.
In the end I caved, flipped a coin, sort of, and settled on Mr. America. I guess I was thinking of that old song by the Coasters, “Along Came Jones”, and hoping he would get elected and rescue Sweet Sue (that’s us) from the gunslinger.
Little did I know that I should have stuck with Mickey. At least I wouldn’t feel as if I had wasted a vote. Because the word filtering out from the folks who know is that Old Mitt didn’t want the job anyway. He tanked it. And, we know from sad experience that the guy who has the job really doesn’t exist. Oh, I mean he is there, all right, but he really has no idea about running a country, or doing much else than “chooming”, organizing a community (whatever in God’s name that is) or body surfing; or standing around while Ambassadors and other guys get murdered…and then not saying word one about it because the “investigation ” is still going on. I mean his most common vote anywhere was “present”. Well brain dead people are “present” too. So are ghosts according to some folks.
Turns out they both stink. If fact, they all stink, from Chicago Slim in the White House right down to the most junior jerk in the House of Representatives; where about the only thing they represent is their own wallet, I think.
Anyway, I’m back on The Mouse’s bandwagon and there I intend to stay. This morning I was having a cup of Joe with the Little Lady down at the local Dunkin’ Donuts. There were a couple of old guys over in the corner jawing about the, how many, damn near 500 stupid and selfish men and women we send down to DC to do nothing much good to or for anyone, and one of them says, “I’m 73 years old and I don’t think I am ever going to vote for another person for anything again. I’m just going to go into the booth and scribble down a name, any name.”
My heart leaped! If two old and nearly useless guys like him and me can have the same idea, what would it look like if 30 or 40 million of us went behind the curtain and did the same thing; if no one was elected, if the country actually followed the predictions of the polls and said, “None of the above?” For anything, even School Board President, Dogcatcher, Registrar of Probate, President?
Because, you know, none of the folks there now seem to want to do anything at all about anything, and the guy we just sent back to the Oval Office hasn’t got the faintest idea about what needs doing, except that we need more money to do it.
Actually, I take that back. It seems that one person does have a good idea, which idea won’t see the light of day down there. The junior Senator from New Hampshire, Kelly Ayotte says all of those dopes don’t deserve a pay raise because they haven’t done anything for it. That’s the first bit of sensible thinking I’ve heard come out of that swamp in about 12 years.
Now, if only they would return all the rest of the money we’ve given them for the past 12 years I might reconsider my support for The Mouse. I know all of that dough might make our fall from the cliff just a little bit softer, turn it into a kind of velvety “smoosh” rather than a granite hard “SPLAT” when we hit bottom.
One thing that can be said for The Mouse is that at least he works cheap; a couple of nibbles of cheese now and then and he’s good for a week.