 |
|||
|
|
 |
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||
|
|
 |
|
|
|||||||||||||||||
 |
|
by Hans Castro First things first: I'm a Floridian. There, I've said it. It's not easy to admit, you know. It takes courage, and an unafraid spirit, (not unlike bending over to pick up a penny in the presence of a hyperactive Ricky Martin). What happened to us? We were once the Sunshine State, I swear! A tropical paradise of unadulterated nature! Filled to the brim with oranges! Even after Florida mutated into the proud land of shadowy politicians, media circuses, and the senile elderly, there were still a few things I could brag about. Beautiful beaches. The night life. The steadily decreasing number of murdered tourists. But now, this. If you have to ask what "this" is, I'm going to assume that you're a) a kind but mad hermit that avoids contact with civilization but somehow clicks into TheWax.com every now and then, or b) a Palm Beach county voter. If (b) happens to be true: Thanks a lot, you guys. Nice going there. I'm afraid Florida's best hope for redemption is to develop a rare case of "state leprosy" and shed all of West Palm Beach County, (and seriously, no one's going to miss East Palm Beach County either.) If I haven't yet used the words "election", "Gore", "Bush", "embarrassment", or "pile of doo-doo", it's for a very strategic reason. I am not going to talk about any of it. Everyone else is. I refuse to. Instead, I'm going to tell you the sad-but-true story of Little Susie McMere, (who always wore a blue ribbon on her hair). Little Susie was smack in the middle of Coach Branahan's Government Class when she raised her hand and timidly asked to be excused. Coach Branahan, whose first action after being born was chewing off the doctor's hand, (NO ONE spanked Jay O. Branahan!) ignored her. Ten minutes went by, and Little Susie's hand was up again: she REALLY had to pee. Coach Branahan barked in her general direction, and Little Susie, who had turned an unhealthy shade of purple by then, sank back on her desk. Another ten minutes flew by, and a drizzling sound brings Coach Branahan's lecture to a halt. You don't need me to get graphic, fill in the blanks with your God-given imagination, you sickos. Coach Branahan then said then the most intelligent words that would ever spit out from behind his sickening yellow teeth: "Well, you've made a fine mess of yourself, haven't you? What are you doing? In God's name, don't just stand there and cry about it for the whole world to see! They're going to laugh at you, you nitwit! Don't cry! Go get yourself cleaned up, THAT'S what you need to do!" God bless you for those wise words, Coach Branahan, in whichever Circle of Hell you may now be. Maybe we can all learn from Susie McMere's tragic tale, before people start laughing all too loud. I am not one of those self-deprecating folks who think the WHOLE world is rolling on its back over our little electoral fiasco. Not true at all. There are whole hemispheres now thinking: "What? E-LEK- SHUNS? They get to VOTE for their presidents?!? What a wacky concept!" So relax; we're not drowning on our own yellow puddles yet. But listen up, America: let's not just stand there, let's not wring our hands, let's not cry about the mess we've made. Get ourselves cleaned up. THAT'S what we need to do. |
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||||
 |