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You voted. So what? 

It wasn’t just the garbage bag full of petrified candy corn I funneled down my gullet like a ravenous baby bird over Halloween—it might have been the rock-hard expired Peeps I found that are now expanding and tearing at the walls of my large intestine.

That’s not so bad. What really twists my colon is all the horn tooting I had to endure on election day.

“I voted” stickers were everywhere. On top of that, as a newcomer to Facebook, I was bombarded with “I voted” online posts, and even more “go vote” posts. Screw you. Just because you mindlessly follow the crowd and vote doesn’t mean I have to. If someone else voted and jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?

Lemmings, all of you.

See what I’ve been reduced to? You’ve all forced me into an anti-voting corner because you won’t shut up about it.

“I voted.”

Yeah, well, I fed myself this morning, but you don’t see me bragging about it … very much.

The Facebook stuff is worse, because at least the real-life stickers are forcibly applied by poll workers. They’re worse than dental hygienists jamming iron hooks into my gums and then yelling at me because my gums
are bleeding.

“Take a sticker.”

I don’t want one.

“When was the last time you flossed?”

I promise I’ll do it next year.

All this “I voted” back-patting reminds me of those “my child is an honor student” bumper stickers. OK, but that doesn’t mean you’re not obnoxious—and your kid’s still kind of a wiener.

I’m probably not thinking clearly. It’s surely all that rancid candy corn.

Some of you did go out and vote, about 53 percent, in fact. That might not sound like much at first glance (because it’s not), but consider that the state turnout was about 43 percent. Hot dawg, SLO County!

As I’m sure you’ve heard, Republicans got the house back. Democrat Senate leader Harry Reid, who gets to keep control of his establishment, had the nerve to tell the Today show, “The only way we can have progress is by working together. If that means legislative compromise, we’ve got to do that.”

I thought you guys tried that already. You mean to tell me that all the kowtowing over the past four years was the Democrats’ version
of bullying?

At least we’ll stave off the wave of socialism sweeping the country. But in this socialist apocalypse or paradise—depending on which way you dress, politically speaking—the stage seems set to lose out on all those barely socialistic policies the left-dressing nuts in control of the place have enacted. I meant “nuts” in the crazy sense.

That’s all for the national front—where the Democrats got bent over a log and spanked until their buns were pink, which is probably why Republicans use the spanked-raw red colors for their states.

   On the local front, I’m worried about Lt. Gov. Abel Maldonado. I’m not worried about what he’ll do after losing the lieutenant governor seat to left-wing dreamboat Gavin Newsom—clearly Abel can now go back home to tend his strawberries and pay his taxes, or at least tend his strawberries. I’m worried about what’s going to happen when everyone thinks back on the game of legislative musical chairs that allowed Abel to act as Schwarzenegger’s right hand man for about seven months. After all the wasteful special elections, all we really did was give Sam Blakeslee an early shot at the Senate and Katcho Achadjian one at the Assembly.

As of this writing, Jan Marx was holding an unraveling thread of a lead against Paul Brown, the dopey former councilman and business owner. Now he’s a cop, or something.

It’s not a big surprise that Marx took it, but I hope you’ve got the chutzpah to withstand the mounting barrage of populism about exorbitant city compensation packages, which is focusing like a magnifying glass over an anthill. So you’re now queen ant, Jan. Hope you applied sunblock.

Less surprisingly, Measure H fell harder than a sack of bricks into a black hole. Here I am trying to come up with a funny take on this outcome, but I’ve got bubkis. I guess it’s such a “well doy” conclusion there’s nothing much funny to be said.

Um … knock, knock.

“Who’s there?”

Measure H.

“Measure H, who?”

Aren’t you glad I didn’t say banana?

“Go away.”

God, I’m boring myself with all this election stuff. Ian Parkinson is our new sheriff, apparently. That’s, um, interesting. Know any good knock, knock jokes, Ian? ∆

Did you vote? Make your voice heard at

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