Let me introduce you to my dad, Fred. He is a sassy Vietnam Vet whose mind is fried from years of smoking the reefers and working for the postal service. Anywho, it’s a few days before the 2008 election Fred asked me if I would join him to vote instead of going alone. I said yes and asked him what his thoughts were on the election. He replied “I’m voting for the Oramalama guy, he seems like a good guy. You know those damn republicans fuck everything up” I tried to keep my laughter to myself and I questioned, “You mean Obama right?” “What? That’s what I said Olama”. I just shook my head and knew this was going to be an adventure.
The next few days were like the god damned king’s speech of 2008 trying to get him to say Obama and Barack correctly. It was like trying to teach a one-legged prostitute how to bake cookies. By that I mean frustrating, relentless, and dirty.
So alas the day came, it was a very cool November morning. The leaves had already fallen and the smell of wet grass and urine was in the air (Seriously this is West Library). We walk up to the fire hall, I’m proud as a pig in shit thinking I cured my father’s learning disability and taught him how to say Obama. We take our respective places in the voting booths and when we came out he said, quite loudly mind you, “I did it Ash, I voted for Osama.” The entire room quited and began staring at the two of us… I shook my head and said “Good job Dad, Osama is going to make a great president”.
I think terrorism won that day.