The No-Vote Rule
Sure, there were times when women couldn’t vote, were chastised and even arrested for their protests. And then, members of the African-American community were more than not listed as property in slave owners' last wills and testaments. But these times are long gone. I do wonder, however, if the Tea Party introduced this no-vote-if-you-don’t-own-bill and for some idiotic reason it passed, and there were still slave owners who offered their slaves homestead property—they’d have a better chance of voting than women or the homeless because their way-cool-and-nice owners would have given them a leaky shack to set up a home.
I have a friend in the Tea Party. She lives appropriately in Scottsdale, Arizona. Last month when I chatted with her on the phone—I really called to congratulate her daughter on finishing her master’s degree—she started in on the homeless. “Where are all these homeless people Jean? I just don’t see them." I felt my eyes begin to bulge and thought my head might explode, spewing homeless people right in her front yard through the telephone. But, I took a deep breath and calmed down.
“Bunny," I said (that is her given name—honest), “you can’t see them when you are floating in your backyard pool sipping margaritas."
“Well, where are they?" she asked again.
“Ask Herb," I said. Herb is her husband and drives to downtown Phoenix everyday so I’m sure he has a better chance of pointing them out to Bunny since I live in Texas.
“Hmmm," Bunny said and I could only imagine the wind whistling through her ears. Actually, I thought I could hear it.
I have another friend who lives in Virginia and he asked me why I remain friends with Bunny. He’s especially mad now that Bunny and Herb are of the PARTY, as he says. “My kids went to school with her kids. She lived down the road from me back then and was the president of the PTA," I tell my buddy Tom.
“Figures. Does she look like Michele?" He means Michele Bachmann.
“I guess a little, except she’s blonde," I tell Tom.
“Evil," he mumbles and the conversation ends.
Yes, the whole idea behind this no-vote unless you own rule does seem quite scary. No, it’s not scary. It’s repulsive and ridiculous and if I could swear here I would! (#!@*!)--you get my meaning. I suddenly feel like stand-up comedian Lewis Black. I want to scream at someone—any Republican will do. I guess I could go scream at myself in the mirror because my political views sort of bend to the red side, but I’m afraid I’d scream so hard my mirror would crack. Then my Democrat husband would come home and find me flat on the floor with broken mirror pieces sticking out of my cheek and head—not a good idea.