Ballots That Should Be Kept Secret

You don't have to choose one of the names already written.

I didn’t vote for him.  Or her.  I’m bipartisan all by myself.  Despising both options is my gesture toward unity.  There’d be amity if everyone agreed with me.  Until all the stupid jerks realize I’m right about everything, I’ll have to settle for the small comfort of knowing only people who hate the same things as me are coherent and appealing.

Most chose to go with one of two hideous possibilities.  You got to ride with either the game show host given an undeserved second chance by a handful of sucker primary voters or the jabbering borderline commie representing the party that confirmed its tendency to boss by telling their side who their candidate would be.  There was a third way even if one of the monstrous two was going to blight the next four years.

Living as a punk with nothing but integrity is worth about zero dollars.  Refusing to sell out is worthless.  Wait: there must be a different word for that.  Getting no financial reward for remaining a defiant outsider is still a greater prize than hoping your savior will remember how you cast and accordingly dispense a quasi-legal bribe.

I don’t mean to preen.  But supporters of the rather destructive final battle participants sure do, so make a show out of what you believe in their honor.  And refusing to align with mainstream characters comes in genuine dissent, which makes showiness slightly less obnoxious.

Declining to enroll in a contemporary political faction offers longterm effects beyond ignoring the border in the preferred way of the selector.  A Trump win means a couple trillion more dollars shredded just like if he lost, so the consequences of assisting either  disagreeable fiend are meaningless aside from shame provided by functioning qualms.

Writing in candidates is amusing, and we should strive to find entertainment in a most humorless process.  You can tell politics is horrifying by how the funniest person it churns out is Donald Trump.  The thorough lack of quality options should serve as the truest indicator that this should be condemned and minimized.  Ordering off the menu has been condemned as not taking dinnertime seriously when it’s exactly what a race between two unappetizing specimens deserve.  Marvel movies are soulless messes, note people watching Star Wars series.

A marked oval fills in an individual statement.  That’s what you’re supposed to be doing, since horde members seem to have forgotten.  The only thing worse than attention sluts on tickets who demand compliance are cultish goons who lustily enforce diktats issued by said indifferent worshiper harvesters.

I voted for winners.  I’m not talking about some stupid vote tally.  Finding the most awesome people I could support was a nice distraction from the doom ahead.  I’m not going to heed some heinous primary.  Instead, I made it a real choice by writing in full-time campaigner plus occasional rocker Alice Cooper, eternal candidate Dave Barry, and Iowa’s finest export David Burge for my last three dream presidents.  It’s not to brag, but I’m a consummate chooser.

Any of my personal hopefuls would be infinitely more competent and fun president than the ones with whom we’ve been burdened.  I know I’d rather have pizza with any of those great Americans.  Can fans of the semifinalists do the same?  Neither Donald nor Kamala carry cash, but I’m sure they’ll find your PayPal just like they promised.  That tricky part about knowing and utilizing free will is why particularly moronic mobs prevail.  Anyone offended should check the list of recent presidents.

Trying to organize mavericks makes each of them ruefully smirk.  Coordinating writing in remains a counterintuitive goal.  It’s same reason libertarians can’t win elections on account of despising government.  But at least there’s something to giggle about on the trip to face doom.

It doesn’t matter and only matters.  The maxim that your one vote could make a difference is both the silliest thing ever uttered and personally valid.  Paradoxical contradictions spur smoking synapses in the type of people who felt inspired by looming federal overreach.  As with so many things about the entirely dreadful procedure of concluding who’s going to be in our faces gloating about getting more electoral votes, it’s all about context.  You’re unlikely to break a tie.  But you will decide how you perceive yourself.

Two candidates want to limit options.  Thinking government is going to encourage progress is why we should avoid having one.  Okay: maybe we can have some cops, firefighters, and firefighters with pepper spray.  But emergency services differ from an unwieldy government that defies the Constitution as it fails to defy economics.   Frame tariffs jingoistically, as we’ll all be screwed equally.

I neither voted for the professional clown who commandeered a party once occasionally known for restraint nor the embodiment of vapidness who believes only that her empty head should be making your decisions.  Backing one in an attempt to sideline the other put the nation on injured reserve.  The best strategy is to let the bums in the fight tire themselves out before deciding to view a less sleazy bout.

A clear conscience is the most valuable item.  That’s especially true in the era of presidents carefully molding the economy into flaming trash.  The only way to cope with cleared-out bank accounts is internal awareness of not joining in on a fad more damaging to psyches than Members Only jackets.

Your secret is safe with me.  You’ll always know what you did behind the closed curtain.  Whisper it to me if you need a cathartic unburdening.  I survived Catholic school and am thus qualified to provide such confessions.  Behavior when nobody’s looking constitutes character.  A lack of it leads to results a respectable country should be ashamed to go public.