VOTE!

Spider-Man wants you to vote! Spider-Man is happy to vote! Don’t you want to be happy like Spider-Man?!

Okay, actually, I’m in a really foul mood today. Partly because I wish I had more vacation days, partly because I hate getting my internal clock screwed up by Daylight Savings Time, partly because I know I’m gonna have to stay at the office extra late tonight helping with election returns. Partly because I’m just cranky, and that’s all there is to it.

Partly because I hear people making dumb excuses for skipping voting.

I’m not going to say I vote in every election, ’cause I don’t. When the only thing on the ballot is one city council seat and the railroad commissioner, I’ll probably skip that one.

But come on, when it’s the presidential election, you shouldn’t skip.

“I don’t wanna vote. Voting’s boring. Only losers vote.”

I’m sorry, I can’t actually respond to you. If I respond to you using the language you actually deserve, I’ll be arrested for Using Rude Language That Makes Sailors Weep And Soil Themselves In Utter Horror, which is actually a hangin’ offense in Texas.

“My boss won’t let me off work to vote!”

Yes, actually, he will, ’cause he has to. If he doesn’t let you go vote, he’s breaking the law. So go vote.

“Ohh, but the lines are so long this year! I hate long lines!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up. I swear, whining about lines is just looking to honk me off good. You’ll stand in line to get a box of cheese crackers, a two-liter bottle of root beer, and a bucket of Crisco, you’ll stand in line to get into a club with overpriced drinks and bad music, you’ll stand in line to see the latest under-written blockbuster at the theater, you’ll go park yourself outside Jones Stadium for three days to see Tech beat the Longhorns, but when it comes to getting in line to help pick your leaders, all of a sudden, yer a delicate flower? No, no, you go vote and quitcher whining.

“Um, well, I forgot to register.”

Well, sure enough, there’s no way you’re gonna be able to vote, but now I’m going to have to hit you with the Planet Mars.

“Why bother? There’s no difference between the candidates.”

Oh, I swear, I should kill you six or eight times just on general principles. Was your brain somehow removed by renegade brain surgeons? Do you obtain all your information about current events by staring into the sun and making chicken noises? Are you trying to make me angry enough to insert a porcupine into your urethra?

“One or two votes will never make a difference.”

Oh, hey, the 2000 Election called, and it wants to stab you with a narwhal.

Vote, dang it. Vote! VOTE!