Soundtrack to Mary

Mary’s watching: “Live Forever: The Rise And Fall Of British Pop”

I settled into my comfy chair and with every good bed-wetting liberal intention tried to watch the Democratic National Convention on TV. I felt like a big dumb demographic cliché. With one eye on John Edwards’ shiny hopeful face, my hopelessly Gen-X other eye drifted to the Vanity Fair in my lap. Mr. Sincere and Shiny, try as he might, could not compete with the pretty magazine and its photos of people who party with Paris Hilton.

I’m sure you’re thinking, “Here’s where Mary begins berating herself for her shallowness and political apathy.” Oh, how little you know me…

First, if most of my friends were honest, they would reveal that their true interest in Kerry amounts to little more than good hair, time spent in a garage band, and kite surfing.

So what? People say, “Vote for the candidate you can most relate to.” I’m happy to say I can’t “relate” to any of them. Can you?

I wasn’t born into money. I’ve never taken advice from my father. I’ve never been drawn to people who desperately seek the approval of strangers. I hate being told what to do. I think it would be creepy to know that there’s a good chance that I’m sleeping in a room that Ronald Reagan has had sex in (although Reagan was a SAG member and he regularly colored his hair, so I have more in common with him than any other president).

Sometimes the trifling, immoral details of a candidate’s life, the very things the spin doctors want to keep hidden, are the things most of us could relate to. Between blowing the sax on late-night TV and blowing the chronic, Clinton sealed the deal with a huge demo of voters. Bottom line, vote from your heart, vote from your ass. Just vote.

Now if only Nader smoked crack.

E-mail Mary at popularcreeps@yahoo.com.