Voting is titillating

Voting is the tits.

That's right. There's nothing more sexy, more appealing, more ENDEARING than the right to vote. There's nothing bigger and brawnier than a strong bicep pulling down that lever in that curtained booth. There's not one thing better in my mind than knowing that your vote goes to a representative in the electoral college of my state, who will then vote for the person he thinks is best (probably the party that paid him off). There's nothing better to me than not knowing who the hell I actually am pulling that lever for. And there's nothing better than knowing I'm gonna vote me some local politics.

You see, earlier today, after a very disparaging conversation with my older, purportedly wiser brother, I was distraught. He told me I couldn't vote because I didn't mail in my ballot by yesterday (he was wrong, I am wiser). He then told me I was out of the family. Incensed, I made a call. A call to my EFFING CONGRESSMAN. He answered the phone and looked up my information like a little lap dog.

And yes, I am eligible to vote. This is probably one of the most significant elections in my immediate history. And in case you were wondering; I'm voting Obama/Biden. And then I'm voting Bennion Spencer.

And then I'm eating Gandolphos and laughing and laughing and laughing all the way to the nonexistent bank.