Here’s Why I Vote

obiwan

Choosing a presidential candidate this election is equivalent to deciding which type of knife you want to stab into your eyeball. As South Park creators so eloquently put it, we’re choosing between a “Big Douche and a Turd Sandwich”.

In Utah, where most of our representatives lean white and right, it’s frustrating to see the same type of people elected to office over and over and over and over . . .

But I vote anyway. Every election. Every time.

More than 100 years ago, suffragettes fought for my right to vote. They were labeled, imprisoned and institutionalized. If I believe in any kind of equality, I need to cast my ballot, if only to not kick those great women in the teeth.

Here’s why I vote:

My vote matters. Okay, maybe not for the presidential race which is determined by the electoral college, a college that should definitely lose its accreditation and football team. But local races affect me. Changes come through local government. Rare, I know, but it happens.

I can complain. If you don’t cast a ballot, you can’t complain about the government. Period.

Because free stickers!!

voting-sicker

Not voting is a vote. Apathy created the situation we’re in today. When voters stayed home during the 2010 mid-term election, the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party was allowed to evolve into a thing.

The entire world is watching. The global community is watching the U.S. to see how we handle this shit-storm of an election–and to see if we’re going to screw up the galaxy forever. If other countries could vote in our presidential election, they would turn out in droves.

My grandkids. A couple of years ago, my grandson asked me if I had voted. I gave him a resounding, “Hell, yes!” (Disclaimer: Saying “hell” is not child abuse. Get your knickers unwadded.) An entire generation is watching us, witnessing either our dedication or apathy to democracy. They will respond accordingly when they’re old enough to vote.

wwlkd

Top 5 Reasons I’ll Never Run For Office

Presidential candidates are sharpening their knives, honing their wit and polishing up their toothy smiles. With a possible Romney/Bush/Palin ticket, what could possibly go wrong?

I have no desire to run for office. Zero. Zip. Nada.

I’ve been watching the hilarious sitcom, Veep, where I’ve learned all kinds of ways to insert swear words into everyday conversation. And although I could @$%&ing excel at that type of linguistic behavior, Veep also demonstrates the backbiting, power struggles, insecurities and hypocrisy that exists in today’s political landscape.

veep

(These people are horrible. But it’s fiction, right? Right?!?!)

So (not that I was considering it), here are the reasons I’ll never run for POTUS, mayor, the library board or PTA hospitality chairperson.

1–I’m too thin-skinned. A boy in third grade told me I ran like a girl. I couldn’t imagine a more hurtful insult. Of course this same boy threw earthworms at my face, broke my pencils in half and pulled my pigtails. I’m pretty sure he loved me. But negative comments REALLY make me feel bad. And I don’t hear a lot of compliments or praise coming from political opponents.

2–I have no patience with whiners. Ask my kids. You whine, I stop listening. If my constituents call about potholes, the height of their neighbor’s garage or the price of Girl Scout Cookies, I’ll calmly hang up.

gscookie

(Yes, they are hideously expensive. But they’re also unhealthy, fattening and addictive!)

3–I can’t make a decision. Don’t ask me what movie I want to see, what restaurant I want to go to, what my favorite book is or if I’d rather be on a beach or in a luxury hotel. The answer is I don’t know! It’s all good!! So when it comes to voting on bike lanes, economic development or elephant sanctuaries, I don’t know!

4–I hate meetings. All politics seems to be is a bunch of meetings. Just give me cement shoes and throw me in the Great Salt Lake. Listening to politicians bluster and brag is the tortuous equivalent to a dentist’s drill boring through my eardrum. Plus I can’t sit still. Plus I can’t resist making smart-ass comments. Plus most meetings are a complete waste of time. (Sidenote: Read How to Survive a Boring Meeting.)

5–I don’t have nearly enough money. The average income for congressmen living in Washington, D.C. is around $190,000. And that’s in American dollars! But. It cost them millions of dollars to buy their way onto Capitol Hill. Lobbyists aren’t cheap, you know. I don’t have wealthy friends willing to open their wallets to sponsor my doomed run for office. I don’t even have friends willing to post bail. I need to get new friends.

Just to reiterate. You will not be seeing a Peri for President campaign anytime soon. Not even for @$%&ing Girl Scout cookies.