democracy inaction: a concession speech of sorts
Friends, Supporters, Assorted Sheep who voted for “actual candidates”, and a handful of Zombies that I may or may not have created using my very own Halloween zombie recipe for the sole purpose of getting votes and then maybe getting together a Camino team for the local basketball league, though such an act certainly would have neglected to take into consideration the fact that zombies are not the best exhibitors of hand-eye coordination:
It appears that my bid to be the next Senator from (or Governor of) Tennessee has failed miserably. Yes, there were those who said from the start that my chances of winning were about the same as a porcupine has for successfully making sweet love to a balloon animal, but I was not among them. The nay Sayers will always say nay, and I thought it best to ignore them and proceed with the greatest of optimism in those few times when I actually remembered that I was running.
Anyway, I need to make this brief, as the desk clerk here at the Motel 6 off I-24 has threatened to call the cops if I don’t either rent a room or vacate the premises.
Yes, I’ve apparently forgotten to mention that this would serve as campaign headquarters. It seemed like the thing to do since all the other hotel banquet rooms in the area were booked. However, I didn’t realize at the time that Motel 6 lobbies were this small, so I suppose that in the end it’s best that nobody showed up.
Anyway, I don’t have the patience to stay up watching election results to find out who the actual winner is and will therefore briefly address each scenario. Please skip over the incorrect one:
In the event of a Corker victory: Um, yes, congratulations on electing a smaller version of what you already had, Republicans. I suppose rubber stamps come in all sizes.
In the event of a Ford victory: Congratulations on electing someone who voted for the war, invokes the name of God in every sentence, and who strongly opposes gay marriage. That’ll really teach those Republicans.
Either way I think this election came down to a clear choice. Voters could either send a politician or a frequently unemployed blogger to Washington, and they, as usual, chose unwisely.
Look, I’m not going to forecast doom and gloom here, as the faithful rank and file of the losing party are certainly better equipped with the talking points for such diatribes, but you should know that we’re all screwed.
However, don’t worry about ol’ Rex. I suppose I’ll go home to literally and figuratively mend fences or clear brush or do something equally photo op-ish. There’s always next time and all that. For now I’ll just help this zombie basketball team that I’ve never seen before and certainly had no hand in creating clean up confetti here in the Motel 6 lobby before the law shows up. Then I'll return to Casa Camino in defeat, secure in the knowledge that there are other and more effective ways than democracy for rising to power.
So, goodnight and go drink.
It appears that my bid to be the next Senator from (or Governor of) Tennessee has failed miserably. Yes, there were those who said from the start that my chances of winning were about the same as a porcupine has for successfully making sweet love to a balloon animal, but I was not among them. The nay Sayers will always say nay, and I thought it best to ignore them and proceed with the greatest of optimism in those few times when I actually remembered that I was running.
Anyway, I need to make this brief, as the desk clerk here at the Motel 6 off I-24 has threatened to call the cops if I don’t either rent a room or vacate the premises.
Yes, I’ve apparently forgotten to mention that this would serve as campaign headquarters. It seemed like the thing to do since all the other hotel banquet rooms in the area were booked. However, I didn’t realize at the time that Motel 6 lobbies were this small, so I suppose that in the end it’s best that nobody showed up.
Anyway, I don’t have the patience to stay up watching election results to find out who the actual winner is and will therefore briefly address each scenario. Please skip over the incorrect one:
In the event of a Corker victory: Um, yes, congratulations on electing a smaller version of what you already had, Republicans. I suppose rubber stamps come in all sizes.
In the event of a Ford victory: Congratulations on electing someone who voted for the war, invokes the name of God in every sentence, and who strongly opposes gay marriage. That’ll really teach those Republicans.
Either way I think this election came down to a clear choice. Voters could either send a politician or a frequently unemployed blogger to Washington, and they, as usual, chose unwisely.
Look, I’m not going to forecast doom and gloom here, as the faithful rank and file of the losing party are certainly better equipped with the talking points for such diatribes, but you should know that we’re all screwed.
However, don’t worry about ol’ Rex. I suppose I’ll go home to literally and figuratively mend fences or clear brush or do something equally photo op-ish. There’s always next time and all that. For now I’ll just help this zombie basketball team that I’ve never seen before and certainly had no hand in creating clean up confetti here in the Motel 6 lobby before the law shows up. Then I'll return to Casa Camino in defeat, secure in the knowledge that there are other and more effective ways than democracy for rising to power.
So, goodnight and go drink.
RLC
posted by Rex L. Camino at 9:35 PM
4 Comments:
oh well, at least we've cleared up the racism deal here in TN. 51% of the population still can't bring themselves to vote for a 'darkie' even one that's not so dark after all...
no need to worry as it won't be long until the aliens finally launch their attack from those towers on the dark side of the moon to wipe us all out...
hmmm... maybe you're on to something with this zombie army thing...not very good for basketball though.
You've got two years to run again.
You can start your exploratory committee today, after zombie basketball practice.
I wish I had voted for you rather than choosing between two dunderheads.
Ah, Rex ... we hardly knew ye!
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