I’m that guy whose wife gives the peremptory “no discussing politics” instructions to while standing on the threshold to every cocktail party, family function, baptism, wedding, funeral, dinner out with friends, and office Christmas party that we ever attend.

Yes, that’s me.

I stumped for Bush, rallied during the recounts, and some of my actions during that time became the subject of a few pages in a book about politics.

I’ve been a member of more political forums that I can recall. Been kicked out of most of them for being belligerent in a sub-culture that’s centered around belligerence, for being too liberal for Conservative sites, and too conservative for Liberal ones.

I’ve owned a few forums that I don’t want to admit to and I’ve hosted Internet radio stations from the comfort of my home office, passing  myself off as “real” talk radio long enough to interview a few prominent politicos, authors, and people whose main claim to fame was that they had a claim to fame.

I am an intense guy when it comes to politics.

I was once so caught up in an election campaign, that I forgot my wedding anniversary.

I managed to secure last-minute dinner reservations at a swanky restaurant in Las Olas, and would have possibly been forgiven by my long-suffering wife, had I not gotten into an argument with the guy at the next table.

His transgression? The unforgivable sin of disagreeing with me on the legitimacy of chads, and the constitutionality of the Supreme Court’s decision on Bush v. Gore.

I slept on the couch a lot while the Florida vote was settled in late 2000.

I am the deadly enemy of good, because I know no politician is perfect and I know how to Google, so every fact is checked and every claim made substantiated…I don’t let much get by.

I have my principles. If you don’t like them, then you obviously don’t know what the Hell you’re talking about.

Yep that’s me. Bad Groucho.

That’s why I am somewhat baffled at my apparent disconnect with this year’s GOP primaries.

Mind you, it isn’t that I am disinterested in the upcoming Presidential election, in fact, if anything, it is my tunnel vision-like focus on that contest that is driving my attitude toward the primaries.

In the past, my actions during this portion of our political process, have always been driven by a steadfast conviction that my vote should be cast for that individual whose values, style, and character most closely resemble mine own. In my mind, the quality of the candidate was no more or no less than a measurement of how his politics fit my ideological structure; to pick that candidate, my ego and my superego held several meetings, arrived at a decision, pushed my id asides, stepped into the voting booth, and pulled all the levers.

Simple, economical, and rather tidy.

I have a problem.

This year, my id is out of control.

I think that it already has the ego bound, gagged, and duct tapped to a wall in some deep, dark corner of my psychic apparatus’s wood shed, and I swear I heard the superego scream like a girl and run for cover.

This year is about instinct.

Survival instinct.

I’m watching the primaries like a man who after crawling through the Mojave, spots six glasses of muddy water on a table; some murkier than others, but all of them water. I don’t really give a damn which glass I get…I’m going to drink it down like it’s a glass of my Sainted Grandma’s hand-squeezed limeade.

I’m going to lick my lips when I’m done.

The way I see it, when you’re thirsty, REALLY thirsty, the quality of that muddy water becomes less of a concern than the need to abate your thirst, so in relation to one’s needs at that specific point in time, quality becomes defined as that which best suits the occasion. Muddy water, ANY muddy water that you have, is water of better quality than no water at all, or that water that you wish you had.

The quality of the water is now deduced according to what best fits your current situation.

That’s why I’m so damned Zen about the GOP primaries. I know exactly what I am doing, and there’s no strife in my life.

As a good friend put it a couple of weeks ago, I am voting for the Republican Party nominee, no matter who that is.

Let me illustrate that point.

If that ballot reads:



BARACK OBAMA/JOSEPH BIDEN – president/vice-president


TUNA SANDWICH/SIDE OF CUCUMBER SALAD – president/vice-president

I am voting for the tuna sandwich/cucumber salad ticket, and doing it with an absolutely clear conscience; just as it was the case with that muddy water, I will act with little more than my basic drives engaged.

Let the id rule and instincts act.

There are others out there who are still caught up in that world where analytic discussions of the qualifications of a candidate go on. I still read the columns and the commentaries on the weakness of this candidate, or the electability factor of this one over the other one. I am even able to somewhat enjoy the internecine conflicts between the factions on my side of the political fence, but I am Zen.

The time calls for being in the moment, it demands reaction.

I am Zen.

Any water is my water.

I am Zen.

Good is good enough.

I am Zen.

Any horse in the race is my horse.

I am Zen.

Anybody but Obama.

I am Zen.

I am in the moment.

I am Zen.