We’re Not Gonna Take It

Today, ladies and gentlemen, was fraught with suffrage.  The worst thing about it is that I’m sitting here in a Chili’s getting really bad customer service from a flamboyant individual sporting a goofy ass Mohawk, skinny jeans, and a incredible ability to show off his colossal skills of in-attentativeness (presenteeism).


But enough of the suffering and back to the suffrage.


Today, I voted.


I voted for contaminated soil.  (When I mistyped “contaminated” Autocorrect changed it to “fonts monster”)


I voted for dirty, fonts monster water.


I voted for war with any country who dares to piss us off.


I voted for e-coli.


I voted to ship ’em all back.


I voted to keep ’em barefoot, pregnant, and generally subjugated.


I voted to put ’em back in chains.


I voted to let the uninsured go without healthcare.


I voted to suppress the rights of others.


I voted to help make the rich, richer.


I voted to send jobs overseas.


I voted for the 1%.


Every single implication, fabrication, assertion, and accusation which has been uttered about the right throughout this campaign season served as a chad to dangle in favor of voting my values.


I voted responsibly.


But that’s not the only thing I did.


You may remember a sign I called attention to a few days ago which encourages simple minded souls to stop the Republican war on woman by voting Democrat.


At my polling station (heh-heh,  “polling”), they had a few of those stupid ass signs stacked on top of each other.

Shortly after taking a picture for posterity sake, I called in an airstrike.


Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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