The “new” Big Brother, or the Fear and Loathing Factor
It was about the time that I had finished my second molotov cocktail that I realized the excitement was waning. Despite the glamour of the burning and looting, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Tre Arrow agreed and told me he was heading to Canada, that he needed something new. The acts of random vandalism were the same but the love just wasn’t there. It was time to call it quits. Sometimes, with a twinge of nostalgia, I wonder about him – if he’s happy, his head held high while he squats, up on his perch six feet above the jailhouse floor in the Vancouver Island Regional Correctional Centre. I suppose I’ll never know.
It’s the same feeling of ennui I get every spring break, but it’s particularly bad during an election year. By the time April rolls around the promise of a hair pulling, blouse ripping, cat fight of a political battle just dissolves and we’re stuck with the same old he says/she says of presidential campaigning. One candidate points out the other has a bad voting record, the other points out his opponent’s tendencies to kill thousands of civilians, and it just keeps going like that until September when they both start making promises they can’t keep. Meanwhile I’m stuck sitting on the front porch with a bottle of Old Crow all summer, bored as hell, mad-doggin’ all the neighborhood kids, and shooting rock salt at the ice cream man.
And regardless of the name-calling and promise making, I know it means bupkiss because my vote won’t make any difference anyhow. I and millions of other Americans pour our hearts out at the ballots, fooled into thinking our voices count by those shysters at Rock The Vote, only to have our ballot cancelled out by that most antiquated and corrupt of institutions – the electoral college. People complain that there are so few dedicated voters among America’s youth without realizing we’re the only ones sharp enough to acknowledge it’s all a sham.
But if I have my way all that is going to change.
I’ve devised a foolproof way of both keeping interest alive during those dog days of summer and guaranteeing that in spite of nepotistic leanings, the best candidate will be chosen to lead the free world. I suggest we do away with the electoral and popular votes entirely and choose the next president in the only truly fair political arena – that of reality television.
Imagine it, rather then depend on the political tendencies of the obese, vapid sheep constituting the “silent majority” we’d get to pick a candidate based upon their ability to traverse ravines full of man eating sharks, jump from burning buildings, hang with their diverse ex-celebrity roommates, and win the affection of a roomful of sexually ambiguous midgets. It would be the best presidential campaign ever.
During Bush’s “state room confessionals” he could criticize John Kerry’s lack of experience with foreign policy and his shit-talking by the pool. “I just think it was tacky of John to bring up my military record in front of Vanilla Ice and Gary Coleman. There were more flip-fops out there than just those cheap looking sandals he was wearing.”
Think about it. We could have a president that not only could attack terrorists and eat 50 roaches in a minute, but also one that could belt out a number one hit.
And don’t think I don’t realize that the average reality TV show isn’t geared for international politics. Obviously, there would have to be some adjustment. For instance, replacing Paula Abdul with Butros Butros-Ghali, or creating an event where lobbyists shoot Supreme Court justices with paintball guns until rulings fit their needs, but these are minor changes. And think of the time we would save on scandals. If we could catch Kerry making out with his “little people” interns now there would be no Munchkin-gate trials later on. And to my friends at the network, don’t worry about your post-election ratings. When the new President is chosen we can go back and recreate elections of years past. It’d be like bringing back the cast of Survivor. Imagine Gary Hart and Bob Dole arm wrestling over a pit of hot lava or Michael Dukakis and Al Gore competing for the love of albino, eunuch strippers. And when we run out of living candidates we could start exhuming dead presidents and having America vote on the most attractive corpse.
My vote is solid with Kennedy over Nixon. Sure he’s been dead longer and he’s missing half his head, but for Christ’s sake, HE’S A GODDAMN KENNEDY!
