That kid

You'll probably get pissed early on with this entry (the two of the 6-billion plus on the planet that actually read it I mean) but bear with me for a bit.

I occasionally have an internal debate as to whether to vote or not. In recent years, not voting has started to gain some footing.

The push to not bother is largely based on two points.

Point number one is largely based on the comedy of George Carlin. His argument was based on the idea that, by abstaining from the system, he reserved the right to complain. If I vote for the guy who wins and he turns out to be a tool, as they almost invariably do, I put him in office; it's my fault. If I vote for a loser, it's my fault for not doing more. So abstaining from the voting process, the fault lies on you voters. That'll probably be down to the two that read this by the coming presidential election.

So I can complain based on the idea that you (yes you two again) did this to me.

Thin argument?

Yep.

Point number two plays well into the cynicism that I often wrap myself in.

I'm going to wander off on a tangent here so feel free to wander off for popcorn or to go to the restroom. The words will be here when you get back.



*insert elevator music here*



When I was a kid, I believed. I still want to. God's love and the idea that everything would work out was something that could be wrapped up tight about you, a down comforter to keep you toasty as you waited for the cocoa to be done.

It's a ratty sheet at this point, so I tend to turn to the itchy but somewhat comforting warmth of cynicism.

Cynicism works so well with point two because it's based on the fact that there is no one to vote for.

Re-read that, both of you, please.

I find that more often than not, I'm trying to decide on a new or old devil. And inertia dictates that nature abhors change. So we stick to a guy the person we all know and have known all our lives. We keep him in office even though he's that kid.

You know which kid I'm talking about. The one in class that always asked questions. The one that didn't quite get the fundamental concept that the teacher was trying to impart so they kept asking questions. As the year wore on you started to realize they weren't trying for clarity, they were trying to memorize portions of what was being said. Nuggets of information to regurgitate during the tests. That kid that did well enough to keep from flunking, only because they'd be punished for doing so. That kid whom you initially felt sorry for, but as the year wore on; you started to resent them.

You yearned for the opportunity to learn more but that kid created significant intellectual drag. How could you move on to the theoretical when you couldn't achieve the lift to move beyond the fundamental? So somewhere, deep inside you resented that kid.

At the beginning of the year you'd hand that kid the milk when they couldn't reach it. You lent that kid pencil and paper when they were short. You helped that kid.

Towards the end of the year you realized that, when asked, you'd hand that kid the milk while rolling your eyes. You no longer had paper and pencil to share with that kid, unless grudgingly. And the more the year rolled on the more you realized you were doing this and you resented being this person that is angry at that kid for his shortcomings.

By the end of the year, you just wanted to get away from that kid.

So here we are, just a few weeks from the end of a presidential term. That kid has had the run of the playground. And you have a chance to take the ball bin back for the kids that want to learn. Here's your chance.

But who to give control of the bin too? There's the rub.

Most of the students who are vying for that control are just like that kid. Maybe they haven't been in your class all year, but you can tell them by now. Their shoes are shiny up front but tarnished behind. They care what you think of them coming, but not once they've moved beyond you. And in politics, the playground is filled with that kid and his clones.

We try to see the good kid inside. The sweet fellow that we handed the milk too, shared supplies with, maybe even gave up the after school soda for, to lend them lunch money. We want that kid, the one we loved and cared about. The one we wanted to succeed. That's the kid we want to give control of the bin too.

But politics is filled with that kid instead. So we don't vote for that kid from our class. But we still vote for that kid from some other class, because that's all there is to choose from.

We hope and pray that the kid we wanted to help, that we wanted to share our things with and take care of wins.

Don't you want the kid they were to succeed?

Don't you want to vote for that precious little angel?

And that's where we all fuck up. That precious little angel isn't the one to vote for. He's that kid in gestation.

Why vote for that kid in the hopes that he isn't that kid. The one who should be getting the vote is you. The you from the beginning of the year. The you that held out your hand to the less fortunate. To the less gifted. To the kid you knew was going to hold you back.

That's who I want to vote for.

Vote FOR.

When's the last time you did that?

I want to vote for you.

You, who sheltered the less fortunate.

You, who cares about others.

You, who seeks knowledge with an unquenchable thirst.

I want to vote for YOU.

But you won't run.

I don't blame you. I won't either.

It takes someone flawless in this day and age to run. Or a wish to be torn apart for the slightest of indescretions. The flaws that make you human make you undesireable here.
Or, it takes, a gifted liar.

Or that kid, surrounded by those who can do the lying for them.

There's no one to vote for. That's' argument number two.

It's a really good one too. But it doesn't stop me from dropping my marble in the jar. Not yet.

Because I still want to believe. It's the only argument that I can still hang on to. Not belief. A wish for it.

So I'll see you in line in November.

Because I want to believe.