Which means that I'm eight years in on this blog thing. Crapola.
So, anyway, I voted. Pat Paulson will probably not get elected (since I think he may be dead), and the world will keep on spinning. For a little over a month.
I'm actually pretty excited to see the end of the world. I just want to see how others will react. Me? I'm going apeshit. Totally.
I'm going to take advantage of all the poor suckers who think it'll just blow over and I'll run my credit cards up to the max. I'm going to drive to the end of the world in a really expensive car.
I'm also going to give people presents. "Dear friend, I know the magnetic poles are set to reverse on Thursday, so please accept this gift of a $500 Amazon gift card. If you spring for the two-day shipping, you may get that watch you wanted before all the UPS men are hunted down for food. Much love, maddad"
How could that not be good karma?
And I'm going to need good karma in the weeks following the beginning of the end. All those jackasses from the east coast and the cities will come straggling out here looking for food, easy prey and contestants for their crazy gladiatorial games. If I've planned right, I'll be able to set myself up as some kind of holy man or oracle... provided I'm karmically in balance. Steal from the rich (credit card companies) and give to the poor (acquaintances who'd be killed and eaten by roving bands of lesbian bikers if they didn't have a nice, shiny, Fossil to trade for protection and a used pair of Converse), is the way the wheel turns.
Because the world is going to end so soon, this is the first election in a long time that I haven't auctioned my vote off to the highest bidder. My vote has always been for sale, and will always be for sale, so there's been no reason to beat around the bush the past couple of elections. If you want more votes for your guy, send me a check. I'll vote for him... usually. This year I didn't do that. And honestly, I think I should have.
Usually, it's the local guys who make the best bids. You know, in a town like this, a school board seat could hinge on four or five votes, mine is worth a couple of Benjies, easy. But the way the usual suspects were freaking out this year on the National side, well, let's just say I guess I missed a ride on the money train.
So watch this space. When it comes time to pick the Warrior Queen of the Empire of Kentuckiana, you can be sure that for a couple of shotgun shells, some newish dog meat, or a coffee can full of go-juice, I'll drop my chit in the right bucket. And your ex-girlfriend will sitting pretty in the Chair of Law, and not end up torn to peices by starving hogs in the fuel pen.
I'm your man, guv.