I believe that most everyone here would agree that, in political terms, “independent” means “uninformed, shallow, and/or spineless”. The only way you can be independent is to ignore policy substance and embrace personal style.
When it comes to policy issues, anyone that wants to take a 5-minute break from eating their boogers can identify primarily with either Republicans or Democrats on major issues such as the proper role of government, taxes, prosecuting the war on terror, gun control, school choice, affirmative action and how the Constitution should be interpreted.
Of course most people don’t agree 100% with either side on these and other issues but they pick a team. Most non-helmet wearing adults have fired the requisite number of neurons to know on which side they belong. But not independents. Because that boring shit doesn’t matter to them. No, they vote based on personal style and how that personal style makes them feel.
The vast majority of independents want to be on the team that will get them invited to the cool-kids’ parties. They are influenced by hype, oratory, fashion, appearance, Hollywood, the bullshit that splatters out of the MSM and other complete superficialities. I have a personal anecdote to illustrate how an independent votes.
When I was a little girl in 3rd grade, it was 1976 and the Carter and Ford campaigns were in full swing. My 3rd grade teacher was Miss Yarborough who was young and smoking hot and she also had enormous boobs although that is not germane to this story. Anyway…one day she talked about the two men running for President and a little about their personal histories. She didn’t talk much about the political issues because we were in 3rd grade and still eating paste and melting crayons on the radiator.
After she was done discussing Ford and Carter, she handed out secret ballots and we all voted. I asked my buddy Jimmy Starnes who was sitting next to me who he voted for and he said he voted for Carter. When I asked him why, he told me it was because he and Carter were both named Jimmy. Jimmy Starnes in 3rd grade was an independent.
The reason I got to thinking about all this was an article I just read that brilliantly illustrates the vapidity of independents.
The article at RealClearPolitics is titled “Why I Regret Voting for President Obama” by an supermassive ignoramus named Jill Dorson. It starts:
I am a registered Independent. I voted for Barack Obama. And for that, I am sorry.
Okay great. Here…let me make some room for you on the bandwagon, Jill. Then she gets to why she voted for Obama in the first place.
I voted for hope and change and all the intangibles that Obama was peddling in the wake of the financial crisis, Sarah Palin, Sept. 11 and all the other ills that shook our country in the last decade. I wanted something new. Something different.
I had to read that three times for it to sink in. Of all the ills that we suffered during the last decade, and they are voluminous, Ms. Dorson, registered independent, deems three worthy of mention by name: the second worst financial crisis in our nation’s history, the worst attack in our nation’s history and this:
If I had brain cells to spare, I would love to hear Ms. Dorson explain why exactly she considers Sarah Palin an ill on par with the worst economic conditions in our lifetime and the horrific deaths of 3,000 innocent Americans. If the explanation is anything other than rank jealously, I would laugh.
Independents gave the election last year to Obama and the Democrats and it appears they are poised to give the one in November to the Republicans. I will happily ride that bandwagon with the likes of Ms. Dorson but when the election in over and the Democrats have been politically curb-stomped, I’m kicking her fat ass to the curb.
You ma’am are a gigantic idiot and the fact that your vote counts the same as mine is a fucking outrage.
My brother wiserbud said this in the comments:
“She perfectly personifies the star-fucker, pseudo-intellectual mindest of the average liberal. (See also: Keith Olbermann)”
Head of nail, you have been hit.
And now for something completely different.
Normally the only time mascots make me smile is when they meet with extreme violence and get set on fire. But this is pretty fun.
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.