Inderepublocrat, Part 2 (or "Don't Bludgeon Me, Bro")

After I was elected to the position of "President of the Sophomore Class After Someone 'Accidentally' Lets A Liger Loose and It Eats the Real President So I Assume Supreme Power," um... I mean, the position of sophomore class vice-president, I became addicted to power politics. I coveted the position of Associated Student Body 3rd Vice-President, because it seemed cool to be one of three vice-presidents -- I thought it appealing to be part of a triumvirate of truly mediocre people, who, together, would equal one normal vice-president. Also, whomever held the position got to wheel a huge stereo into the cafeteria every Friday and play music really loud during lunch. To this day, I cannot think of an awesomer elected position, except perhaps President of Sea World, which position I'm currently saving up to buy.

No touchie.
So, after six months of proving my political mettle as sophomore class vice-president by never being conclusively observed picking my nose or singing along to Hootie and the Blowfish songs, I brashly entered the race against a couple of juniors, both of whom were vastly more popular and able than me. What they lacked, however, was political acumen. Had they been astute students of politics, they would've seen the race for 3rd VP was shaping up to be decided by what a lot of people call "The Perot Factor," which means that two cool people split the smart voters' votes so that a dumb person wins the election. I call it "The Creed Factor," which is a similar phenomenon where a tree limb falls and splits someone's head open, making them a dumb person who then decides that they like Creed. It's the only way to rationally explain why someone would voluntarily like Creed.*

"The Perot/Creed Factor" came into play when all the cool kids split their votes among the two popular, able candidates. This alone may not have been enough to explain my victory, but the mystery is solved when you factor in "The Hot Dog Speech" I delivered to the student body, in which I compared the school to a hot dog, but less squishy and more kosher. The speech has rightfully gone down in political lore at my high school, by which I mean that months after the speech I heard someone say the word "hot dog" and I extrapolated that they must've been talking about my speech. It just seems odd that someone would use the word "hot dog" in any other context.

By far the best thing about being ASB 3rd VP the next year was not, in fact, playing music every Friday at lunch. That actually turned out to suck, because whenever I'd put on something awesome, like David Bowie or Emerson, Lake & Palmer, someone from the football team would walk up to me and threaten to punch me in the neck if I didn't immediately play Dr. Dre. It wasn't too demeaning to get pushed around by the football team, but when the guys on the golf team started coming up and promising to bludgeon me with a blunt putter if I didn't spin Blessid Union of Souls, I just started to wonder about life, you know?

No, the best thing about being ASB 3rd VP actually occurred the summer before school started. No joke, the school just gave me a hundred bucks and told me to go buy CDs at Tower Records. The feeling of joy I experienced at spending someone else's money on whatever CDs I wanted has yet to be eclipsed. I mean, my children's births were nice and all, but one hundred free dollars to spend on CDs!!  Where do you go from there but down?

* I fervently believe that the way North Korea keeps its people in line is that the government plays snippets of "With Arms Wide Open" from loudspeakers thrice per week, and then they announce that in the rest of the world, all people do is zealously sing "With Arms Wide Open" all the time, complete with hand motions and a line dance, so the people never want to leave the North Korean motherland, where the song is mercifully played so sparingly.