The mysterious universe has cloaked us with deep memories and calls out to those who wish to hear what they want to hear. Yes, the inner voice which doesn’t seem to belong to anyone except yourself, urging you to do idiotic things that no one in their right mind would ever think of doing. Except for you in your deep thought, plotting things based on the inner dark thoughts.
I’m talking about crazy people who will do anything to get attention and blame it on the little voice in their head. Yes, take the shot, your funeral will be glorious… At this point, I’m just guessing what goes on in an unstable mind, but something must go on in those people who decide. Yup, after I eat my breakfast of fortified granola, I’ll go take down a former US president on live TV.
Does that sound like someone with a few loose screws to hold their brain firmly together? Or does it sound like someone who plotted this event like an assassination attempt on Donald Trump at a campaign rally?
I don’t think that it was a spur-of-the-moment idea that turned into a near kill by a millimetre off, due to an erratic head movement flicking that orange hair out of the way. Whatever it was, it made the Trump angry enough to sputter out the f-word – “Fight!” – to a crowd that didn’t seem too fazed and actually clapped. Wow, I thought, how American.
So, I checked out the facts just to be sure and yup, the Trump didn’t stop. President Joe urged the public to tone it down a notch, so that no one gets too excited and triggers a military coup. This just might happen if things keep going the way they are now, with democracy spinning out of control and too much (uncontrolled) freedom being just as dicey to deal with as not enough freedom.
So, what next? More fanatical politicking or a more laid-back, practically semi-retired, approach. There doesn’t seem to be a middle ground when it comes to wanting the top job in town, in this case, as President of the United States.
How do we handle our own election campaigns? In a small discussion over politics, which just happens to be in the coffee room, a memory of a whole election process from nominations to elections and appointment to duty, rested on one person. That person would take over the meeting and carry out every detail from counting votes, nominations, double checking the votes for clarity and appointing the chief and council in under 20 minutes – or so it was told to me.
Amazing, I thought! But the reality was at that time, there weren’t thousands of voting-age adults to handle and everyone at the meeting, well, they were the ones who ran the town anyways.
Eventually, things got a bit more organized when it came to voting for your favourite family member and even a campaign promise or two to spice things up in favour of your best family candidate. Then secret ballots became popular, so no one could find out if their mother voted against them in favour of the more handsome candidate.
In recent times, most women voters held their breath until election day was over only to gush that their favourite and best-looking prime minister ever, had won. Due to, of course, the overwhelming response from female voters. I’m sure that many other voters based their choice on that premise, so I rest my case. To strengthen this assessment, I hardly ever get any votes when I run, probably based on the same prejudice which is not in my favour.
So, I’ve decided not to run for anything, except for the washroom in the middle of the night, and not to make promises that I can’t keep, like getting that new house or plum job for a nephew, or to hold my meeting in the community of my choice, like Montreal. Now, that’s a great community! And finally, free paycheques on payday for those who already have jobs.
Yeah, I can see it now, my new council position. Just as long as no one takes a pot shot at me, because I don’t have that hair to flick out of the way just in time to save my life.