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Let's do it, it'd be fun.

*Disclaimer: I wrote this for another site (who thinks I'm a complete moron, I might add), when I hadn't slept for a long period of time. Just a warning.*

I really don't usually cry in public. In fact, never would be a more exact term. I could have one of the worst days of my life, fall onto a protruding spoon, slice my gall bladder, get beaten up by an inanimate object in front of someone who actually wants to beat me up, and be traveling home on the railroad tracks at "the wrong hour", and still wait until the comfort of my own home to let out a good sob. (This is excluding serious injuries or when I do cry in front of people, which I guess defeats the purpose of the above mentioned.)


Camp is a whole different thing. I've been going there since I was six, my mom is the nurse there, everyone knows me, I know almost everyone, and it's one of those places where the universe actually looks pretty good. That makes leaving a bit more difficult.


On the last real day of camp it finally kicks in that I actually have to return to my close aquaitences, meoteocre school, and, worst yet, actually have to interact with my classmates. Once that realization is there, all genes to hell and beyond. Any of those "I do not cry in public" mottos completely flies out the window, probably because everyone else cries then, too.


Throughout the closing ceremony I was able to keep in the tears pretty well. (Granted, that was because a girl who was sobbing sounded so completely and utterly hilarious that I couldn't stop laughing. I still feel kind of guilty about that one.) But once we had gone up to the cabins, (at about 12:30), had stopped reminiscing and were actually ready for bed, even the helpless sobs that had seemed so amusing earlier that night couldn't help me from letting out a few tears. Once our cabin counselor came in and gave us all hugs, patting us reassuringly on our heads, had left, I started in again. By some lucky chance, another one of my close friends was having the same problem, and had gone to sit on the porch. Not wanting to disturb anyone, I joined her, and another one of my friends came out a few minutes later. We talked for a while, mostly about how we didn't want to go home, and then went down to the bathroom for a change of scene (and because she had to go real bad.)


We were just sitting around when the subject of politics came up. All three of us, avid haters of Bush, homophobia, and general stupidity, we were having a good conversation. Granted, it was two in the morning, none of us had had more than six hours of sleep the night before, and the bugs were attacking us, but it was a lot of fun. We had just gotten to our confusion on why so many stupid people are in office, when I found an amazing question. There it was, just sitting in the back of my head, never tread on before. The question........ why aren't there puppy dogs in office?


Lets go over some comparisons. The entire idea of an election is people going up against each other with the complete knowledge that one is going to win, and one is going to lose. Along with that knowledge, there is also the complete certainty (except for independents), that their party will win, and that they are the stronger canadate. Every person who walks onto a podium thinks that what they have to offer is what America, or a specific state, needs. They're there to defend their territory, the territory of politics.


Now lets look at dogs. When a dog gets into a fight, it knows that one of them is going to lose. It also thinks, at least in the beginning, that it will be the other pooch. Their reason for fighting? Most often, territory. When a dog or a politician goes up against someone, they think the exact same thing.......must defend.


Similarity? Yes, of course there is. So here's the pitch; let's replace dogs with politicians. It would be perfect! We might even get some good debates going! They'll have reasonable opinions, you know that they'll make good decisions; to lick or not to lick, to scratch or bite or bark? C'mon, people, Bush, or my dog, a brilliant boy of 2?


How could anyone possibly pass up this possibility, such a well, reasonably thought out option, I might add. Dog are wonderful, furry little dudes, who, with a little encouragement and a few walks, could become definite presidential material. Let America set a precedent, let all other counties agree, let's put dogs in the White House... (theme music begins, I break into Riverdance, start gettin' jiggy with it, and then, then, I watch as my dog pees on the floor.)

It will be possible, just you wait...
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