1964: I finally get to do it myself. I will always feel like something of an Abused Voter because I thought I was voting against sending half a million troops to Vietnam, but basically I’m happy with the result, and I will persevere and vote every time.
1968: I am introduced to the great American custom of pulling the lever with one hand and holding the nose with the other. I vote for the Hump. The Dick wins.
1972: I cheerfully vote for the acid, amnesty, and abortion candidate. The American people prefer Nixon, validating my opinion of the American people.
1980: Subconsciously realizing that it’s time to start Jimmy Carter on his extremely successful career as ex-president, I deviate from Yellow Dog purity and cast a ballot for the generic white guy on the Libertarian ticket (Clark, if memory serves). Reagan wins. I concede that third-party votes help the candidate I like less and never do it again.
1992. Though the Experts assured us last year that Bush had sewed it up with his glorious victory in Iraq, the short memory of the American people saves us again.
2000. I vote against Bush, but Florida is stolen.
2004. I vote against Bush, but Ohio is stolen.
2012. A local gas crisis causes me to walk two miles over and two miles back to vote for Obama and against Romney. It’s worth it.
2016. Having been reminded by Brexit of the dangers of underestimating the power of the Stupid White People vote, I prepare to vote for Hillary Clinton.
* Having escaped from the historical present by superhuman means, I note that we could use a party like the Prohibitionists today, to help the Religious Right from endangering their immortal souls by voting for imperfect Republicans. It should probably be rebranded as something like the Barefoot ’n’ Pregnant Party. Their showbiz candidate could be Pat Boone, whom I just saw an article about. He looks like the picture in Dorian Gray’s attic, and he had just delivered an antigay rant that I assume was done first and better by a Black performer.