Step 1: Subject every citizen to a comprehensive psychological examination. If they pass, they move into an "eligibility" pool. If they fail, they can't hold a position of political power.
Step 2: Attach the eligible applicants to a lie detector instrument and ask them one question: Would you like to be the President? If they answer yes, they can't hold a position of political power. If they answer no, they remain in the eligibility pool.
Step 3: Assign each applicant a number and, using a random number generator, assign 537 to be the POTUS, VPOTUS, House Members, and Senators.
Encourage people to vote by creating a national lottery. When you vote your name is entered in a lottery to win something neat. Like pancakes for life or a chance to taser the politician of your choice.
3. We didn’t cover dope smoking, Sunday morning pancake fixin’ Founding Fathers in 5th grade, junior or senior year of high school, or U.S. history 402 in college. So, sure … it’s possible I’m wrong here … but it sure feels like “Franklin: The Paris Years” would be a correct response.
1. I’m allergic to chicken.
No, seriously, I am. Like, literally-not-figuratively-but-really-truly-literally allergic to chicken, as well as duck, turkey (which is a real drag later this month) and anything else with wings. I actually have a little business card printed that I take to restaurants that details the ludicrous number of things to which I’ve developed food allergies over the years. And, we’re not talking about makes my tummy feel bad, or whenever I ate it I got a runny nose and sneezed … no … we’re talking throat closing up … quick-grab-the-epi-pen-and-Benadryl allergic. Until I figured out what was happening … well … figured out *why* what was happening was happening … I would say the events were a nuisance. Discovering one morning in my late forties that I had to add bananas to the list … now, that one was terrifying. I’d never experienced that degree of “time to close up your throat!” like that before, and mercifully, since. I’m careful, keep an epi-pen handy, and know which local restaurants have menus that are compatible with the delicate little flower I’ve become in my middle age.
I’ve learned to roll with it. Yes, I’m allergic to almost every element of the classic Thanksgiving dinner, and I do miss it, but balanced against spending Thanksgiving afternoon in the ER … face blown up … throat constricting … zonked out on intravenous Benadryl … it was an easy decision to let it go.
A 25 y/o waitress and I got to talking tonight. I asked her if she voted. “No, I’m not political” she said. “I’m undecided.” What? I said “ Do you like birth control? Do you think women should make decisions about their own body?” “Yes,” she nodded. Then you aren’t undecided. Please vote. I doubt she will. She was not a stoner but she was disengaged. I suspect that is common and it’s certainly worrisome. I’ll bet she’s engaged with the Kardashians love life and what’s streaming on Hulu. We’ve failed at civic education and Russian propaganda has been effective. I was hoping youth would save us.
I've been using the same analogy as Sedaris for several years now. He probably stole it form me by reverse osmosis when I was reading "Me Talk Pretty One Day."
Can we just talk about David Sedaris for a sec? I'm pretty confident a non-zero amount of my writing was inspired by him.
Re: question five:
Step 1: Subject every citizen to a comprehensive psychological examination. If they pass, they move into an "eligibility" pool. If they fail, they can't hold a position of political power.
Step 2: Attach the eligible applicants to a lie detector instrument and ask them one question: Would you like to be the President? If they answer yes, they can't hold a position of political power. If they answer no, they remain in the eligibility pool.
Step 3: Assign each applicant a number and, using a random number generator, assign 537 to be the POTUS, VPOTUS, House Members, and Senators.
Step 4: Repeat this process every four years.
CHICKEN! CHICKEN! A THOUSAND TIMES CHICKEN!
How to improve the American election system -
Encourage people to vote by creating a national lottery. When you vote your name is entered in a lottery to win something neat. Like pancakes for life or a chance to taser the politician of your choice.
I'd eat the chicken fucking raw if I had to.
We need to bring back Election Cake.
3. We didn’t cover dope smoking, Sunday morning pancake fixin’ Founding Fathers in 5th grade, junior or senior year of high school, or U.S. history 402 in college. So, sure … it’s possible I’m wrong here … but it sure feels like “Franklin: The Paris Years” would be a correct response.
1. I’m allergic to chicken.
No, seriously, I am. Like, literally-not-figuratively-but-really-truly-literally allergic to chicken, as well as duck, turkey (which is a real drag later this month) and anything else with wings. I actually have a little business card printed that I take to restaurants that details the ludicrous number of things to which I’ve developed food allergies over the years. And, we’re not talking about makes my tummy feel bad, or whenever I ate it I got a runny nose and sneezed … no … we’re talking throat closing up … quick-grab-the-epi-pen-and-Benadryl allergic. Until I figured out what was happening … well … figured out *why* what was happening was happening … I would say the events were a nuisance. Discovering one morning in my late forties that I had to add bananas to the list … now, that one was terrifying. I’d never experienced that degree of “time to close up your throat!” like that before, and mercifully, since. I’m careful, keep an epi-pen handy, and know which local restaurants have menus that are compatible with the delicate little flower I’ve become in my middle age.
I’ve learned to roll with it. Yes, I’m allergic to almost every element of the classic Thanksgiving dinner, and I do miss it, but balanced against spending Thanksgiving afternoon in the ER … face blown up … throat constricting … zonked out on intravenous Benadryl … it was an easy decision to let it go.
On Tuesday I’m ordering the (figurative) chicken.
You needed to take History 420 in college. Totally different class.
😆
Now that’s patriotism. 💪🏼
A 25 y/o waitress and I got to talking tonight. I asked her if she voted. “No, I’m not political” she said. “I’m undecided.” What? I said “ Do you like birth control? Do you think women should make decisions about their own body?” “Yes,” she nodded. Then you aren’t undecided. Please vote. I doubt she will. She was not a stoner but she was disengaged. I suspect that is common and it’s certainly worrisome. I’ll bet she’s engaged with the Kardashians love life and what’s streaming on Hulu. We’ve failed at civic education and Russian propaganda has been effective. I was hoping youth would save us.
I've been using the same analogy as Sedaris for several years now. He probably stole it form me by reverse osmosis when I was reading "Me Talk Pretty One Day."
Can we just talk about David Sedaris for a sec? I'm pretty confident a non-zero amount of my writing was inspired by him.
Love the David Sedaris take and I’ve been quoting it a lot this year. Chicken, obviously.
I’m committed to the chicken, but those bits of broken glass are SO sparkly!
Shit with broken glass wins hands down, but if it's Made in America, sorry 😐
I ordered the chicken, but the chef's a prima donna.
Re: #5 any state named, say, Wisconsin gets a pass on election ads for the next cycle.
Anyone that gets high and makes pancakes is entitled to 2 votes.
(Genuine answer): Make registration automatic. Right now, you have to opt-in. It should be the other way around.
I always think of that Sedaris airplane meal analogy when people talk about undecided voters.
mandatory voting.
1. Chicken
2. Yes. I was born decisive
3. Not surprising since they were all hemp farmers
4. Absolutely
5. Extend the vote to infants (see #2)
When I vote on Tuesday I’ll be writing in “Michael Estrin eating a burrito from the middle.”