the plan of plans of plans.

I have never considered voting for Ron Paul.

I always vote my ticket based on conversations with a Political Scientist who opened my eyes to nothing I feel like sharing with you today.

Wait. Back up.

Yesterday afternoon in a fit of unfounded psychotic rage and a little bit of pre-20's teenage generation X anarchy nostalgia, I decided to turncoat. Yea. I used that as a verb, what of it. I proclaimed on my soapbox (I am about to actually MAKE a real box I can randomly hop onto in the house because, I would just feel better, plus I am soap-boxing a lot, its the Italian + Mania in me, to be all TMI today) that I was going to re-register as a Republican and vote for the craziest bat-shit repeal everything (abortion, healthcare, I can no longer vote but have to bake pies for my cocktail needing dominant husband submitting to his every whim please allow me a scrap of bread, bring back public hangings in fact fuck the court system lets burn people at the stake, everyone must pray to God and also buy a dog and 15 overseas poorly manufactured lead-based painted tax-cut corporation national job market raping selling a piece of filling up a landfill breaks in 3 minutes plastic crude oil byproduct wasting shit junk product pronto) candidate at primary voting time, since as a current Democrat, I cannot vote that primary in Florida. And I wasn't going to vote then turn around and switch parties again so I could help make sure the Democrat ticket won, though this tactic is pretty good and should be noted for anyone reading this as a possible option. I may need to research and see if it could be done. Also, it would aide in my personal cause, which we will get to in a minute.

Back to the Hotel.

My purpose, not the afore mentioned infiltration set your fucked candidate up then run and hide voting peace and love behind the curtain, was to actually get behind electing someone crazy enough to burn the fucking country to the ground. You know, metaphorically (or fuck it, maybe truly too). I dream about infrastructure collapse like a 13 year old boy does JCPenney lingerie catalog models. I'm not kidding. I have wet dreams.

My friend Dave says: You are crazy.

My husband says: I will serve you with divorce papers.

My daughter says: You have raised me to believe everything coming out of your mouth right now is bile, WTF are you talking about.

And I will say, when they come to ask me to show my voting card: Oh, these mother fuckers? Oh, yea, they are Democrats, I don't know them.

What.

Two years ago, I made my husband, a history major and man who forgets nothing, explain to me how Hitler and Mussolini came to power. The environment surrounding a mass amount of people backing these sorts of ideas, Fascists ideas (oh yes, it was said), how this could happen and take control of a nation. Stunned, I listened to everything parallel where I was seeing the leanings of the United States. He argued no, you are just paranoid. He now says, you might have called it. It made me ill at the time. And I cried, because I don't understand. We are socialists, you are a fucking socialist, whether you acknowledge it or not - your taxes pay for your roads, your schools, your infrastructure, your retirement, your elderly care, you help in crisis in states that are not yours, and then you personally donate fuck tons of money to other nations and people when disaster strikes. I hate to point it out to you, but you love others and you care about your neighbor and WHY you think this is a bad thing I will never ever understand. When trees hit my house in 2004 after the Florida hurricane Apocalypse, my neighbors gladly came to help us chop and remove them. So, why does this mode of thinking, your desire to aide, stop at your neighborhoods edge, the end of your street?

Because you are fucking selfish. You go back into your house and bitch about how much work you had to do to get the tree down, or compare how much you did against your other neighbor who had to take a break in the 100 degree heat because he has a heart condition. You secretly hate, and you know what, so do I (openly because I have balls enough to at least write fuck you at least once a week), but it is this bond that makes you my people, not the daisy chains and Kumbayah. And I have realized this. And for you, my people, I am turning, for you I am rising up and saying what we feel: FUCK YOU ALL EAT SHIT AND DIE IN ACID ALSO YOUR DOG SMELLS AND I HOPE YOU GET HERPES GET A JOB YOUR HOMELESS FUCKS LET ME GO TO WAL-MART AND EAT MY CAKE IN THE FROZEN FOODS AISLE. Because to be honest, no one on my street needs trees removed right now.

So.

I decide to watch the FOX news Republican Debates last night. My sitting calmly turned quickly to standing up like I watch boxing matches, screaming, Did she really just say she would put 13 more Senators in office?!?! Then Ron Paul spoke. I like him. I like him enough to vote against my ex-party. I like him enough to bake cookies, thats how much I like him. He called the CIA out. He doesn't want Iranian sanctions. He doesn't want to continue blowing up shit. He likes Cuba and would probably let me buy their damn cigars legally.

So.

Here is the plan (could change at any moment, let's be realistic carp-o-friends, as Dave called me out correctly: I have Etch-A-Brain, just shake and start over). I am going to watch. I am switching parties. And if he stays where he is at, I will vote for him in the Republican Primary and hopefully for President, because at this point, are you fucking kidding me. AND. If he isn't nominated for the party and doesn't show up on an independent ticket later, I am going to vote for burning the country down because the idea of pure chaos is so unbelievably tempting as a solution, I cannot deny my other side (it may actually be 75% and about to jack another 10%, just sayin'). Fuck it. NMFP - Not My Fucking Problem, go ahead and shove it down my throat like Linda Lovelace you bastards, I am opening wide and suppressing gag. For you. My haters, cause we gotta hate.

Love you. Mean it.

(fingers crossed)