Voter burnout nearing an all-time high

I had put off voting long enough. So I looked into the mirror and told myself in a confident tone:

“Buck up, Doug. Tonight’s the night.”

First I had to set the mood so I …

Dimmed the lights. Lit a few candles. Turned on a CD of Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare for the Common Man.”

And then.

I stared at my unopened mail-in ballot with a desire deader than Woodrow Wilson.

Even patriotic fantasies like George Washington having his way with the British didn’t stir me.

Nothing would arouse any excitement in performing my voter obligations.

Then it hit me.

“Oh, my gawd,” I muttered. “I know why I can’t vote.

“I have electile dysfunction.”

I can’t be the only registered voter with ETD, either. I’m betting millions of Americans are in a similar state of political impotence. And I know why.

This infernal presidential contest has dragged on longer than Cher’s last farewell tour. I have trouble recalling all that has gone on.

Like, wasn’t Hillary Clinton an unstoppable force of presidential pants-suited nature?

And I know this sounds crazy, but I keep getting this vision of some boob named Huckabee actually winning the Iowa caucuses.

It’s weird how the mind plays tricks on you.

The other night I tried to generate some voter enthusiasm by tuning in to that Obama infomercial.

I couldn’t get into it, although I did order some ShamWow miracle towels and a Pocket Fisherman.

It’s been weeks since I’ve been able to read our letters to the editor page. All the headlines blur together in an ugly partisan blur: “Keep Republicans out of Obama is Carter all over Big Oil still evil.”

I’m OD’d on Obama. I’m ailin’ from Palin. McCain is a pain in the …

Party politics aside, you have to admit that McCain is more experienced. That’s because McCain’s been a politician so long he used to deliver stump speeches on real stumps. When McCain was young Death Valley was merely ill.

I know. I’ve lost it.

But you can’t blame me. My mailbox has become a repository for garbage candidate fliers. I turn on the radio and it’s one moronic political gab show after another.

And television? Don’t get me started. If I see another negative Gregoire or Rossi commercial I swear I’ll do something desperate.

That’s why I’m supporting the death with dignity law … although the TV spot for that initiative confuses me. One of the selling points the woman in the commercial makes is that it’s “safe.”

Isn’t safe the polar opposite of what you’re going for in an assisted suicide?

True story. Friday afternoon my phone rings. It’s Michelle Obama telling me to vote for her husband.

I can’t tell you how special I felt. And we were having such a nice chat about ordering new White House drapes until I figured out it was a recording.

In a couple of days this long death march of an election will be over.

I’ll be so glad. The presidential race has devolved into a pathetic contest between two men trying to out-pander each other.

OBAMA – “Vote for me and I’ll give you a tax break.”

McCAIN – “Vote for me and I’ll give you a tax break and create jobs.”

OBAMA – “Oh, yeah? Well, vote for me and I’ll redistribute the wealth and offer every homeless person a choice between a Lexus and the ambassadorship of Guam.”

McCAIN – “Anybody seen my teeth?”

I guess I have no choice. I better attempt to vote again.

I just wish there was a magic pill that electile dysfunction sufferers could take that would enable us to perform the voting act.

As with any drug there would be dangers, of course.

“Warning: If enthusiasm for the political process lasts more than four hours, consult your psychiatrist immediately.”