I voted for Obama
...that's it. No joke - no 'point' - snappy, stupid or otherwise. Just four words. And no period.
Those four words are kind of a tabula rasa, aren't they? Meaningless by themselves, they invite we, the readers, to impregnate them with meaning. Is it a declaration? A confession? A statement?
And then there's a curious lack of a period. As I recall from my sixth-grade sentence-diagramming days, a sentence isn't over till the period makes its small but fearful appearance. So what are we to make of the lack of the final perfunctory pixel here?
Maybe we're being told to finish the thought ourselves. Maybe this joke needs a punchline. Immediately my mind churns out some possibilities: "...but I was sampling peyote at the time." "...and I blame his dreamy eyes." "...and I'm still trying to heal." And so on.
I'm not proud of myself for thinking these unkind things. I blame the sticker. It was picking a fight.
In all seriousness, though - What, exactly, is the chain of reasoning behind these four simple words? It must mean something, right?
After a full five minutes of my brain's nose applied to this enigmatic grindstone, I came up with a possible solution. Maybe, just maybe, it means this: "I voted for Obama....HOWAWESOMEISTHAT! YAYFORME!"
This makes sense to me. The real hard-core Obama disciples I've met (as opposed to the mesmerized, confused, or temporarily insane) have an air of...well, not arrogance, but a sort of irrational faith. Sort of like religion. No matter what may happen - the national debt tripling, unemployment topping ten percent, non-citizen terrorists getting Miranda rights - Obama will sort it out.
Why? Why what? Why waste oxygen to ask the question? He...is... Obama! Just look at the name! So mellifluous, so musical, so...adjectival! Chant it to the heavens! Belt it out, Stevie Wonder style!
It's a cure-all! a catch-all! a laxative-enema-hair-tonic-manhood-enhancing plethora, all rolled up into three onomatopoetic syllables! Try it out! Let it wash your cares away!
Health care got you down? Worried about Grandma's health being in the (ahem) capable hands of the people that brought us the $600 toilet seat, the anaconda-like lines at the airport, the banning of any children's books with a molecule or more of lead?
Now take a deep breath. Hold it. Exhale. Feel better?
Unemployed? Are you part of the 10%? Can't get a job because all those evil corporations (and dime stores, and small businesses, and any other place that makes upwards of $250,000) aren't hiring, whining about high taxes? Infuriated when you hear that some sweaty union-member pen-pushers at the Department of Telephone Pole Safety just got a ginormous pay raise?
Out with the bad air, in with the good. Feel better?
So it appears that the new religion of Obamamania is still alive and well, despite ruthless and well-deserved parody. There is a happy ending to this sad tale, though - Obama used to be all potential, just as much a tabula rasa as the puzzling bumper sticker above. Not anymore. Now he's all about results, baby. Never mind what kind. So now we are free to ask the question: if there was another point to Obama supporters...wouldn't they put it on there? If there was some deep, philosophical basis for their undying, almost heroic faith in the man...why wouldn't we hear about it?
We haven't. 'Cause there's not. There's no need. There's no cause. There's no doubt - certainly no reason. We don't need no reasons here. Vowels are way more sexy.