By: Alan Berger
If the votes come in the way my wife wants them to, I may be able to get into my wife.
Please allow me to explain.
She is a Republican.
She thought I was too.
For a bit.
Why did she think that?
Because I wanted her to.
Let me explain.
In our early stages of courtship, I was downstairs in my building’s sauna working on a beautiful sweat before jumping into my beautiful pool, during at that moment, my beautiful life.
My Republican girlfriend was getting the coffee going for us upstairs.
As I went upstairs towards my door, before a got there, I could her crying. Big time
It was the morning of 911 and she was watching people on fire jumping out of The World Trade Center windows.
I then really realized the kind of super heart this Republican had, and I went from being in like to being in love. Big time.
I didn’t cry. I don’t do that. Not then anyway.
That’s the difference between me and her and most other human beings.
We met at a Bush rally. I just wanted to get out of the rain and while I was at it quench my thirst for some Republican pussy.
I don’t know the difference between one party and the other. Or why we have two parties to begin with.
It’s like going into business with a partner you hate, and you don’t need their expertise or money, but there they are, running and ruining the country while they have their civil war, as they both amputate and plunder the country they swore to nurture and take care of.
She didn’t see it that way.
And nor did her folks.
She invited me to meet her folks over dinner at their place. Her father was a Federal judge with the emphasis on judge.
“Democrats are the spawn of the Devil’s strumpet”, he announced as an appetizer.
I remembered hearing that line from the film, “Night of The Hunter”, however, I made the decision not to accuse him of plagiarism. You got to pick your shots and my gun was not loaded.
During the main course I got the first, second, and third degree on what was my party affiliation.
My Republican girlfriend remined her Republican father where we met.
So, he still went on and asked me, “So, you’re a Republican’’?
My pollical answer was, “Who isn’t? and if they are not, they should be”.
I passed the test and he passed the gravy.
At that point I was coming off at dinner as charming, and funny, and Republican as I was on the night, I met their daughter.
Her father asked, “Have you ever thought of going into politics, you’re a natural”?
I wanted to tell him that I only thought about getting into his daughter and I never thought about being a Proctologist either, but all I said was, “What a nice thing to say. And no, I have not”.
“I could make it happen”, he dangled. I told him I would certainly think about it.
One should not be where one does not belong and even if I found the right address to their house that night, the zip code was all wrong.
Except for her.
I was working for my first law firm as a lawyer right out of college and all I wanted was not take a year off the see the world but to get to work on my mission that was called, “The little guy law”. The firm I worked for specialized in suing tobacco and asbestos related and specific companies on behalf of, ‘The little guy’.
I could have made more money defending those types of suits, but I figured I was already enough of a prick in my personal life, why make it professional?
Although, I wanted the money but didn’t need the money.
We fought over the guest list to our wedding until I surrendered. I didn’t have many friends and the ones I did have, along with my parents, didn’t like her, which was a magnificent sign.
There was just one still little ole problem.
She, her Mother, Father, dog, and cat, thought she was to be wed to a Republican.
So, we get married and everything politicly is running smoothly including watching the debates together on who is running un-smoothly.
Then, out of the blue, as in Democrat, on the day of the big ass election, she gets a call from one of my idiot ex friends who tells her I’m not only a lifelong Democrat, but for good measure, before hanging up on her, tells her the only Bush I like, is hers.
That night was supposed to be special no matter who won because the process turns her on so much, but I got impeached, and it was not peachy at all.
I wound up on the couch.
And to make things worse, Bush did not get re-elected. So there went my bush.
The only reason she didn’t make me stay at a hotel was because her father always said hotels are for whores, drug addicts and Democrats. In that order, so she took pity on me.
In the long, awaited morning I knocked on our bedroom door and she asks, “Who is it”?
I told her it was her husband, and could I come in and talk. She said alright and when I went in, she says, “Well, look who crawled out from under the ballot box”! Sweet. At least she still was Republican funny.
I told that I wanted to be like a little Catholic girl who meets a nice Jewish boy and, in order, for there to be peace and order in the valley, I will convert
I asked her to please let me convert to Republicanism, please!
She said ok.
And I cried.
Having said and done that, when you vote, and they close the curtain on the only one at a time allowed in there, well let’s just leave it right and left right there, and maybe all I became was a Republicrat.
And is that.