sharpen your # 2 pencils…


somewhere in the depths of Hell, there must be an endless ballot counting process,  another windy debate with a stage full of flaming men and women running for President of Lower Hades, and endless pollsters calling you every two minutes on the telephone. the cruel months of winter have nothing on the Hell of Campaign Season, for they stretch for eons, or so it seems every 2AM with that special pollster…sitting alone in a half empty storefront begging for $25, $50, or even $100 because his candidate cannot go on another day without raising $50,000…calls you, and like the voice of a mortician at your great Aunt’s funeral arrangements appointment, whispers cruel nothings in your ears…

I have had three-day old stale turkey sandwiches that were more pleasant…

if I could escape the season for one year…to a small pleasant little island devoid of newspapers, radio, television, and even the internet, where I can live on mango pancakes, mango steaks, and mango pies, I would do it. yet even there, I could not guarantee a life blissfully ignorant of the political lives of Planet Earth.

why? because someone would have to rule or manage the island…unless we were an autonomous collective…with bi-elections fortnightly…and even I could not escape the terrible reality of the politically regulated flush capacity of the standard island toilet. I know…I was once on an island inside the jungle where you had to pee straight into the center of a concrete block…a two-hole can…. but, so much smaller than your standard Western Toilet…and probably an easy shot for the local boys…but I am not an island  jungle boy…

so, I have ruled out the island, and the island in the jungle. besides, I would miss a full year’s worth of work, which could officially impoverish me, at which point, a trip back to that said island would not be a vacation, but a purposeful retreat to enlist as the reigning peasant king of one small thatched hut on the edge of a beautiful oblivion. so, I dare not go that route.

no, I dare not go any route that takes me away from that boring ballot box when the primary finally does arrive, because I owe it to myself, since I can vote in this place, to fill in some darkened circles with a # 2 pencil. it is not an adult coloring book, which of course, cures every known ailment known to man and woman kind…but it will have to do for my spring art project. I must do my civic duty, as an adult. still, it is awfully sad that they do not allow a voter to bring gold crayons…I was so looking forward to drawing Burger King while deciding which circles to fill in with the # 2 pencil.

 

 

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About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, and entrepreneur- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger. His blogs are an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of his posts from thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, talesinastrangerstrangerland@wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple@wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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2 Responses to sharpen your # 2 pencils…

  1. reocochran says:

    This made me smile. I plan on using the automatic machine to vote but remember fondly tests and crossword puzzles using #2 pencils! 🙂

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