No, seriously.

 

 

Take politics. Like today I went to vote and there were all these volunteers smiling at me and handing me stickers and stuff. It made me uncomfortable because, well, first of all I am almost always uncomfortable around people I don't know who smile at me, but mostly because I know they were all staring at me.

 

They stare at me because they're all a bunch of liberals and their hippy-radar went off the minute I walked in the door. I know they're liberals because they're taking an entire day to hang out at the polling place; conservatives can't do that because they all have jobs. It's nothing for a liberal to take a whole day off of just sitting around smoking pot with their "life partners" to hang out at the polling place and hope some weird hippy mojo rubs off on regular people when they vote. And then we can elect a bunch of liberals and legalize pot so they can tax it heavily and use the additional influx of capital to fund state-run social programs for drug addicts. And totally not realize the irony of that.

 

Some day everyone will understand how I was so right about everything and the liberals were all a bunch of freaks. On this day all the nice, sincere liberals will come around to my way of thinking, take out all their body piercings, and lead normal, productive lives. And of course all the bad, angry, arrogant liberals will sit in corners, rocking back and forth and muttering incoherently about socialized medicine.

 

 

Or take music. Not all music, of course, because I know that everyone has different tastes and it's completely subjective, so obviously it would be stupid to criticize someone for having an opinion. On the other hand, there are some songs that are just so incredibly bad that my mind reels to think that anyone could ever listen to more than .002 seconds of the song before blood starts leaking out of their ears.

 

It's more than just not liking a song. It's hating that the song was ever even written. It's wanting every trace of it erased from thought and existence and even memory, except for that one faint glimmer that will remain encoded in our genes to pass down  to future generations so that not a single chord or lyric will ever resurface.

 

They're not "So bad they're good"; they're "So bad they totally suck". And it's not nearly enough that I hate them, but I have to insist that everyone else hate them as well.

 

I can think of two examples off the top of my head: One is "Hotel California", and the other is that "Jack & Diane" song by John Cougar Mellencamp.

 

I don't know how else to express the depths of my disdain for these songs, except to just say that on That Glorious Day, everyone on earth will fall on their knees and thank me, as the ringing of the final notes fade from the air.

 

 

 

Another thing I'm right about, of course, is Bigfoot. No one believes me. Everyone thinks it's a joke. But someday, when everyone is watching, he'll come tromping out of the woods in the Pacific Northwest. I'll be standing in a clump of people at a storefront where a TV is playing, and they'll all be staring at the TV bug-eyed and their jaws will drop, and they'll keep looking back and forth from the TV set to me, where I just grin smugly with an I Told You So! look.

 

And scientists and biologists and zoologists and anthropologists from around the world will all clamor for my attention and ask my opinion on what to do with Bigfoot. Of course I won't tell them. Because on that Glorious Day, Bigfoot and I will be best friends.

 

 

I have lots of liberal friends. As long as they're not winning elections, I'm fine with them.