Sampling the Political Pu-Pu Platter

The much heralded eighteenth birthday is synonymous with two words: cigarettes and porn.

The sweet prospect of having the legal right to purchase such items is empowering to the typical American teenager. It’s the government’s little way of saying, “Take these, they should hold you over until you’re legal to drink.”

But in the hullabaloo of lighting up some Marlboros and flipping through the pages of the latest issue of Hustler, many American teens—rather, young adults—overlook what is typically regarded as the most important of all of Uncle Sam’s gifts: the right to vote.

As legal adults, we are entrusted with the sacred right to voice our opinions by voting for the next leader of the free world. A vote for anyone is welcome, be it a Democrat, Republican, or even a member of the Green Party—if you’re into that sort of thing. And the best part is that we voting virgins are courted by the candidates to help make a difference, by which I mean push them over the top to the land of victory. We’re bombarded with friend requests from Barack Obama, text messages from Hillary Clinton, e-mails from John McCain, and they all say the same thing: join me! The whole process is somewhat akin to a fraternity initiation, except without the hazing and keg stands.

In preparation for my newfound responsibility, and in an attempt to make a more informed decision, I decided to pay close attention to the 2008 presidential race. After all, come November I’ll be an integral part of the democratic process—I’ll have a say. I decided I’d start with a clean slate and not immediately conform to my parents’ political ideology; I’m not a sheep. I was going to get a real objective view of the political spectrum by listening to both sides via media and through my own independent research.

So I countered the Wall Street Journal with the New York Times, CNN with FOX, Hannity with Colmes;I was a brain-dead liberal and a right wing nutcase; one minute I loved Obama’s message of change, the next I was all about McCain’s experience. I had sampled the political pu-pu platter and yet I still couldn’t make up my mind.

Nevertheless, I persevered. I continued my epic quest to figure out which candidate was most deserving of my sacred vote, and then it hit me: I don’t like any of them.

All three candidates bother me immensely in their own respective ways. Obama’s naïve, McCain’s old and Hillary reminds me of a menopausal mom. They all share one thing: the egotism that comes along with being a politician. They say whatever it is they need to say for the votes (see Clinton, Bosnia; Obama, change; McCain, tax cuts) while, in reality, they’re blatantly deceiving everyone. A presidential victory is simply the ultimate snack to feed the ego.

Sure, I’m still a voting virgin. I don’t know much, but I do know that politics is a dirty game. And therein lies the beauty. Like a horrific car accident, I find that I can’t look away. The presidential race is utterly titillating, not because it’s a chance to elect a fine leader but rather because it’s so entertaining. It’s sexy, it’s dramatic.

Day after day, campaign coverage shows that the candidates cut each other’s legs right out from under them. They leak information about former affairs with lobbyists and secret ties to big oil companies, and they do it all so they can have the opportunity to lead our fine country. Undoubtedly they once aspired to make a difference and change the world, but somewhere along the way they lost their idealism and resorted to…well, politics, which is simply gladiatorial combat in suits.

I’ll keep paying attention to the election. Hell, come November I’ll even vote for one of the three candidates. But for now, I think the one thing I’m looking forward to most is the porn. At least with porn, you know what you’re getting. These politicians just never quite seem to deliver.