I like to vote early in the morning, and with a heavy buzz on. It makes it easier to pick the lesser of two scumbags, even though I derive my living, in part, from putting some of those very scumbags in office. And since Election day is a holiday for me --when I'm not abetting the corruption of our republic-- I can proceed directly to the beer store and drown what's left of my conscience.

This particular election day, I was in a foul mood from the moment I stepped out the door. A Cold, November Rain fell through the night and well past the dawn. I'd left my lighter at home, and I wasted several old and tattered matches trying to light a cigarette that was, by now, sodden and useless.

I ducked under the awning of the local music shop, praying that my last, worn match might light when, through the window, I saw something the likes of which even Dante would find too frightening to place in his Inferno:


The Hello Kitty Stratocaster.





Theres nothing more to say. There is no refuge on Earth from this menace. We are doomed, and Fender knows it.