‘I don't participate in polls.' I snarled at the lady with the nametag that read ‘Kathy' on my way into vote yesterday. Kathy had asked if I would participate in her poll.
My snarl was an honest snarl. To me, a true opinion poll is the tally from an election. I only have to give my opinion once, and it counts as one opinion. I believe that's called voting, but I'm not a political expert.
I like voting. I like casting my opinion and knowing I'm doing it anonymously. Sure, you can wear campaign buttons, but you can also choose to be quiet in the political forum while knowing your voice will be heard in the process of government. I can talk about whom I voted for, but I don't have to. Woohoo! This is so fuckin' great.
Meanwhile, the Bill Clinton robot called me again yesterday. I'm worried that the Bill Clinton robot might be stalking me. This time, he left a message on my voice mail.
When I spoke with a friend about the Bill Clinton robot, he said he had gotten calls from not only the Bill Clinton robot but robot versions of Michael Douglas, Barbara Boxer, and Al Gore as well.
I don't mind having all these famous robots call me. It's better than getting some 20 year old idealistic poli sci major reading from a script. It's hard to hang up on kids with dreams.
Finally, Donald Rumsfeld resigned this morning as Secretary of Defense. He can't leave without getting a musical theatre number, so ladies and gentlemen, the Sunshine Jen Club is pleased to bring you (to the tune of ‘Hello Dolly') ‘Goodbye Rummy!'
We say goodbye, Rummy. . .well, goodbye Rummy It's so nice to send you back, to have you gone. You're lookin old, Rummy. . .oh so cold, Rummy You're still quivering. . .you're still sniveling. . .now go mow your lawn The pentagon's swaying. . .the youtube's playing All your magic moments way back when So. . .take his pass fellas. . .kick out his civi ass fellas Rummy don't you come on back again.