Scheduled to be away from home on Election Day, I have just sealed and mailed my absentee ballot.
My vote for senator went to A. I gather he is unpatriotic and possibly a child molester. I gleaned this from B's commercials. Of course, A admits nothing.
Nevertheless, A's spin doctors say A would vigorously deny all if it were practical to do so without disrupting his vicious television assault on B's character.
I once meant to vote for B, for he has a magnificent jaw as well as teeth so glorious that they would do our state's dentistry great credit. A's commercials, however, exposed shameful moral deficiency behind B's showy jaw.
These commercials declared B to be a hopeless liar. The scales fell from my eyes when I heard this. I had loved B's commercial showing him striding so gracefully through our native heather with his beautiful Irish setter.
This commercial's subliminal message: "Since B loves dogs, he should be elected to the Senate."
However, after A's commercials explained that B was a liar, I realized B's commercial must be a lie from start to finish _ all 10 seconds of it. I offered to bet people that the Irish setter was not B's dog and, in fact, wasn't even Irish.
A child could tell B wasn't walking the dog through our native heather because our state doesn't have native heather, just native fast-food franchises.
What finally turned me against B, though, was his own commercial. In it, he swore to cut government spending on everybody but me. Being a consummate liar, he obviously meant to strip me of federal funds for life's necessities _ police stations, street lights, garbage pickup. The mendacious swine!
I reasoned that while A might be wanting in patriotism and a child molester, sending him to the Senate would keep him under such a publicity spotlight that he would be forced to curb his unnatural inclinations.
In short, I figured that the Senate might make a new man of A. This is the only persuasive reason I can see for sending anybody to the Senate anymore, now that the only thing they do there is nothing.
Had Father Flanagan got A to Boy's Town when he was a mere lad, A might long ago have become a decent citizen. I decided to use my vote to do the job Father Flanagan never got to.
For Congress, my vote went to X even though Y's commercials said X was a tireless womanizer.
Let me assure you, I was not swayed by X's beautifully made, magnificently poisonous commercials. These dwelt heavily on the fact that Y's fortune had been made by merging and acquiring orphanages, then downsizing them and spinning them off to movie studios that specialize in low-budget orphan movies.
In fact, the ingenuity that went into Y's shameful business left me convinced that Y was such a clever go-getter that he would never be content to sit quietly in the House of Representatives doing nothing but collecting his paycheck.
If the Congress was to continue to be utterly dysfunctional, electing a man as inventive as Y would be a great mistake.
On the other hand, a tireless womanizer like X would be so immobilized by Washington's many persons eager to be womanized with, that he could be counted on to do nothing else and so contribute to the utter pointlessness to which everything now tends. Hence my vote for X.
Politics almost always comes down to the choice of the lesser evil, and this has never been truer than this year when all campaigning consists of "attack" commercials between dueling evildoers.
So for mayor, I was faced with a choice between H and K. H's commercials announced that he was morally superior to K, who had divorced his aged, ailing wife to marry a 19-year-old. K's commercials, amazingly in this era when all politics is reduced to misery-and-hate in 10-second doses, showed him dancing with his new wife while a voice-over narrator simply said, "Enjoy!"
I voted for H, not because K's libertine style offended me, but because I feared what would happen to American politics if our statesmen all started urging us to feel good. Imagine the bleakness of life without the fun and excitement of these well-poisoners making a farce of democracy every other October.
New York Times News Service