Evil had good intentions. He did. He was going to examine the current political fray with a discerning eye, an insouciantly cocked eyebrow, and a pupil dilated by his joy in the democratic process. Then it happened.
—Wait, no, sorry: pigs in liiiiiiipstick! (For a brief history of this sexy phenomenon, clicka here.)
Evil saw the headlines about this “issue” but avoided reading about it for fear of his head a’sploding. But then frequent commenter Vic (check out the Haunt of Victory here) dropped a comment that compelled the Evil to examine “Lipstickgate.” Evil would like to thank Vic for forcing him to face up to his fears . . . and damn him for doing same.
Evil’s first reaction was to begin another post thusly: “OK, Evil is going to stop writing about politics. You’re either smart enough not to pay attention to swine cosmetology or so stupid it will decide your vote. Either way, there is nothing anyone can say to change that.”
But the Evil realized he can’t think of anyone he knows who hasn’t already decided how they’ll vote, lipstick-on-a-pig or no. If you read this and are undecided, please tell the Evil! He needs to know you’re out there! Anyone . . . anyone?
Most all of us at one time or another have harbored the bitter suspicion that our votes don’t matter because some secret cabal of multimillionaires controls everything anyway. (Raise your hands if you’re sure!) Or maybe a handful of computer techies running the electronic voting machines. . . .
But no: truth is, maybe a couple million undecided people in a handful of swing states will make the call. And who knows what they’ll respond to? Do they care that our military leaders in Afghanistan admit the situation is deteriorating? Or will they be convinced that Barack Obama was comparing Sarah Palin to a pig—even though he was talking about McCain’s remarks, not Palin’s?
Who’da’ve ever thunk it would come to this? Joe Sixpack of Toledo, or Jane Doe of Boulder, or . . . or . . . Inglebert Schlabotnik of Scranton . . . will be choosing your next president. And maybe Joe fell off a ladder while cleaning his gutters the day before the election, and he hits the voting booth with a splitting headache that makes it hard to read the screen. And maybe Jane has horrible memories of being called a “pig” in high school and resents Obama for “bringing it back to the forefront.” And maybe Inglebert has been saddled with that horrific name all his life, and resents those blessed with simple, all-American names like “John McCain.”
That’s how it’ll go down: the triumph of the common citizen over . . . everything. Democracy: huzzah!
Just remember what Evil’s grandaddy told him: “You can put lipstick on a pig, but that don’t make it any easier to fuck.”