For the love of Pete. How can it be election time again? Did we not just stumble out of our election box torture chambers, eyes widened in a stupor of horror, and heave a sigh of relief that we would be free of them for at least five minutes? I have not completed my therapy course from the last one. Claustrophobia, you know. Those booths are positively suffocating.
Not wishing to be a Negative Nelly, I must pause my rant to pay all sides a heartfelt compliment. I am impressed the parties have found the time to gather enough mud balls to sling at their opponents. I am still trying to remove my clothing stains from the Presidential debacle. By "debacle," I simply mean "election." I am fairly certain the terms have become synonymous, and frankly I just really like the word "debacle." Debacle debacle debacle.
While we are talking political "parties": I take issue with the blatant abuse of the word "party" when applied in a political context. Nobody knows how NOT to let loose like a group of candidates and their supporters. (I include myself in that generalization. I am already a living vacuum, sucking the fun out of any room I enter, but you should see me suck at election time.) Oh sure, they all appear drunk and high when you see them at rallies, but that is just a reaction to all the stamps they have been licking on their mail-distributed propaganda. Anybody would get fun and crazy after all that glue. You see the same type of celebrations in a mental ward. At least, I hope to experience this if I ever reside in one, which does not seem too far-fetched.
Happily, I sense that this year's race will prove different. The way I realized this season of insanity was underway was a catchy pink camouflage sign, inviting me to vote for somebody named "Barbie." I am actually not making that up. You can Google it. I love the breath of fresh air, and would vote for anyone with pink camo ads. This candidate may actually put the party back in party politics. I hope she holds them at the Barbie Dream House. I have heard it has an elevator and a teeny tiny pool. Also, I would really love to raid her closet. This ambitious fashionista has been a stewardess, teacher, astronaut, tour guide, veterinarian, MD, hairdresser, ballet dancer... I would hope some of her campaign outfits contained therein are actually a pink camouflage print.
