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A presidential race never smelled so bad

By Jason Offutt

This year’s presidential primary is, you know, wow. Wow, wow, wow. I could go on for about 500 more wows and I’m sure many of you would nod along with me.

Wow.

I haven’t even gotten to the candidates. That’s later, along with my Perfect Storm of Political Awesomeness.

My life would be easier if I didn’t care about politics (or college sports, or my cholesterol, or who’s going to die next on “Game of Thrones”). But I vote. It’s just something I do.

I’ve always liked to be part of the political process even though, for the voter, electing anyone to public office is as rewarding as slamming your fist into a cinder block without knowing karate.

I registered to vote on my 18th birthday. I then cast my ballot for Ronald Reagan even though I knew my family would never forgive me.

They haven’t.

That was 32 years ago; get over it already. Family dinners are uncomfortable enough without another Iran-Contra discussion.

Sure, I’ve missed a few municipal elections over the years, but when it’s time to vote for president, hell, give me a couple shots of tequila and drive me to the polls.

Presidential elections attract about 60 percent of the voting public, midterms get around 36.4 percent and municipal elections usually have people asking the next day, “OK, so, when do we vote?”

During a presidential election – like the recent primaries – polling places are as crowded as a church at Easter, and since my poling place is at my church, it’s exactly like a church at Easter.

I was there today. All that was missing was Communion.

Checking in, I froze. I was familiar with the candidates, their party affiliation and what they claimed to stand for. The problem was, I didn’t like them.

Any of them.

This is the first election of my adult life the lesser of two evils was also the greater of two evils. (Don’t take offense. Just because I don’t like the candidate you like doesn’t mean I don’t like you.)

The field includes a billionaire who’s not Bruce Wayne, a Clinton not involved with George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic, a candidate not related to the alluring Spanish actress Penelope Cruz (which is a shame, because I would vote for her. I’d vote for her a lot) and a Sanders who’s not the fried chicken guy, although that would probably help. Slap a goatee and a Kentucky bow tie on Bernie and he’d probably get more votes.

To better serve the fickle, whacky American voter, let me introduce my Perfect Storm of Political Awesomeness: Three candidates – Republican, Democrat, independent – stormed by former governor of Minnesota, WWE Hall of Famer and current TV conspiracy theorist Jesse “The Body” Ventura who enters the race at the last minute.

Conventions? We don’t need conventions. We need a four-candidate presidential cage match smack down. America, we’ve wanted this kind of political mess for years – now we have it.

Hoo-ya.

Find out about everything Jason at jasonoffutt.com.

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