"I voted" stickers clogging toilets

Put those “I voted” stickers over your eyes before you walk into the voting booth.  Slide your tongue into the glory hole and exit with your hands in the air, mouth full of broken dreams.

Hope and reality walk down two sides of a dangerous stretch of road.  What good is exercising rights when the technique is wrong?  Scratch out the first two words from the “out of order” sign, but the pinball machine still eats quarters.  The is no way to fix the machine.

The idea of washing out the corruption by voting is like curing acne with a paring knife.  If changing the mask on the monster makes you sleep better at night, so be it.  Voting won’t matter until the vail is lifted.  

The problem with anonymity is that it also forgoes accountability.  Trillions of taxpayers’ dollars unaccounted for.  Yet, every election the strippers dance and everyone throws their money.  Support your local prostitute…I mean politician.  Unfortunately, only one comes with a happy ending.

I’m not pumping my fist because I didn’t vote.  It’s not a point of pride, not too cool for the voting booth, and certainly not sticking it to anyone.  It’s disenchantment.  I can’t look past the transparency issue.  I know as well as you do — the machine eats quarters.  But maybe one more Tuesday morning shit, with the right speed and consistency, will unplug the toilet.

If you’ve got an argument that proves otherwise, I’m all ears.  Otherwise, I’ll spend my quarters elsewhere.  The voting system will go on without me, as will corruption, war and oil profits, etc.  The only difference between you and I, when I wake up on Wednesday morning, I won’t have to peel the stickers off of my eyes, and my mouth won’t taste like battery acid.