"I'm Diane Feinstein, and I Approved This..."

The incumbent Senator is a dinosaur. Somehow, she imagines she scores points with the electorate by proclaiming the tired old adage...

"... and I'll always support the right to choose."

Give me a break, Diane.

Do you think I don't know?

Do you think we zygote voters (too small to waddle into a voting booth, but not too small to use our very alive, very intelligent little brain waves), do you think we don't jump in with our own voice-over when we hear your radio or TV ads that tottle your election wares?  *


"...you'll always support our right..."


                "...you'll always support our right to..."

"...you'll always support our right to choose...

...to kill our own children."

We can finish that sentence for you, Ms. F. We're not stupid.

I wouldn't want to be born if I thought the electorate, 

who hear Diane Feinstein evoke 

the false "right" to kill 

an innocent human baby,

can't figure out

that what she's really selling is

wholesale cultural suicide. 

And the death of me and all my accidental brethren.

I think people are smarter than that.  

At least I HOPE so, 

anyway.

( * I know, you think the word should be "touting," but that's a grown up word, and the candidate conjures up more of a toddler image, like a wee one who follows after whomever's in charge, you see.)

Drill, Romney, Drill, 2012

IF I HEAR SOMEONE SAY "LET ME BE PERFECTLY CLEAR" one more time, why, I'm gonna grab the nearest shoe and hurl it...

Random X-O image, Orange County, CA 

Why anyone would sign up for a presidential campaign is a mystery of Zygotish proportions. People who survive a contest that is 10 parts WWF, 10 parts GEEK, and 80 parts beauty contest have earned my undying fascination and unmitigated disrespect.  So, today, in spite of my torpid spiral into depression over a property dispute with L.A. County, I keep pouring out prayer for some kind of conservative traction to find favor with the God of the universe in whom everything lives and moves and has its being ( - ness. beingness. Beingness?), and while He's at it, to find favor with the middle-of-the road California voter.

As I spun thru town today [ well of course this Zygote has a tricycle license, how else do you think she achieved the heights of her third grade educational prowess? ], slowly turning corners in an 18 year old clunker with KUSC softly blaring out rolled down tricycle windows, I pondered my own obscene contradiction in beingness: one minute, a profane, foul mouthed sinner, and the next, sputtering out prayers for public figures.

( well,

my ZYGOTE life dOEs depend on them... So, I was humbled that, lacking character myself, I cannot throw stones at the shallow dearth of candidates fronted by the Party of Pro-Life, the Republicans.)

Once a pro abortion governor, now a pro-life wannabe, candidate Romney's inconsistencies are far too complex for my tiny Zygote brain to wrap around.  But as I balleted my three wheeled smog boat past a weedy patch of meridian succulents, I had A Most Brilliant Idea for the Romney campaign to extricate itself from rumors that he has never filthied his fingernails. 

In the spirit of teaching those Dems just who it is that cares more than they, you get twelve Chevy truckloads of high school and college students wearing Cal-Trans Orange tee shirts with giant Republican Elephants on their backs so there's no mistaking just who these hard working, public welfare minded darlings are, and you flashmob all the littered weed patches and roadsides where frequent voters are known to congregate (and ballet their own Pious Priuses past), and let the world know that conservative SUPPORTERS ARE NOT AFRAID OF HARD WORK, NOT AFRAID OF WEEDS AND LITTER, NOT AFRAID TO SERVE HUMANITY IN SELFLESS, VOTE-GETTING FASHION, AND SURELY NOT AFRAID to reveal how obsessive-compulsive-thinking can translate into stooping over roadside weed patches and litter strewn vacant lots. 

When the errand running public sees these roving bands of neon shirted Republican servants rolling up sleeves for humanity, OH, what a dent could be made in vote totals for the overly suave, golf crazed, "perfectly clear" incumbent: Obama would finally be outed as the privileged country club primadonna that he is, and Romney, or whomever takes his place, would be seen as the slack jawed, muscular man of the people. Photo ops of Romney himself, drilling off the CA coast in hard hat and oil spattered gear would go far, but only if he can stanch the holes he's drilled in voter perceptions of the Republican Party with their smooth talking, snake-like double-dealing charm.

If only I had a megaphone and a tiny zygote stool to stand on. "are we CLear, are we CLEAR, ARE WE CL E A RR?"