The Franchise Message

A month-long pandemonium of
hopeful aspirants to parliamentary
office recklessly promising gifts of
choice value to the electorate paid by
the taxes extracted from that very
constituency listening with bored,
half-cocked ear is finally culminating
in the denouement of rejection
and heartily reluctant ballots.

A bird in the hand, old wisdom would
have it, is worth two in the bush. What
if that bird won't fly, can't sing, refuses
to lay eggs and proliferate? Does it
make sense to encourage its uselessness?
Promises flow from politician's crafty
mouths like melodies from a robin,
heralding rain. Our signal to pull on
rain jackets as protection from the
downpour of dissatisfaction certain
to follow as sun does the rain.

The sun of promised relief albeit
temporary, from the useless, misguided
travesty of poor choices by elected
government enabling weary voters to
bring in alternate aspirants represents
the anchor of democratic action. Behind
that day pompous, misbegotten public
relations reign; telephone lobbying,
door-knocking, slurs and veiled slanders.

Damning political adversaries
when all else fails tediously irritates
the public, but has become as predictable
as never-ending, prognosticating poll
results, diagnosing the forewarnings.
Enter the voting chamber, with its
election officials eager to serve the
process. Survey a scene of calm
before the storm of final results in a
strange place where you are the sole
voter present to exercise your franchise.