You heard me right. With all the damn kerfuffle around ballots and voting for the upcoming election I wasn’t going to trust any of those corporate puppets in the mail industry or “ballot” workers at my “local” episcopal church to get “the” job done. That’s right—this year, I’m not taking any chances. I’m taking matters into my own hands, as the saying goes: if you want the job done right, all you need is a Stanley 20-ounce FatMax Extreme Claw Hammer and a bucketful of nails.
I mean, there’s really no way around it, since every other method of trying to vote is as suspect as Uncle Herman around my younger cousins.
I mean, you really think mailing it’s going to work? Hell, I haven’t trusted the postal service since they lost my Claw Hammer Monthly magazine subscription, and especially since word’s out that those mailboxes that got stolen are back with tongues and teeth—yeah, no thanks, bucko.
And don’t even get me started on voting in-person.
The last time I submitted a ballot in person I saw the man collecting them just crumple each one and pop ‘em in his mouth like they were Thai Chili wings from Magic City. Never went back.
So now that you understand the state of ballot submission in this God-forsaken country, you oughtta get why I’m switching things up this year and taking a page out of our good friend Martin Luther’s book. The only way to ensure that the mail-fuckers and ballot fetishists don’t stop my vote for a third-party candidate is to shove that vote right up the system’s ass.
Try to get rid of my ballot when it’s nailed three inches into your office door, you punks—and that’s a length I’m sure plenty of y’all’re familiar with.
