Okay, it has to be said. This business of “undecided voters” needs to be addressed. We need to stop coddling these people and treating the issue like the old man who has spinach in his beard but we are too worried about coming off like insensitive boobs to say anything even though every fiber in our being is screaming out, “You have f!#&ing spinach in your beard, you slob!”
For all intents and purposes, the election season started two years ago. Two years ago, people! And it isn’t like the candidates are churning out new messages every week! No, what we hear today is nothing more than louder, more commercially hacked versions of the same thing each has been saying for twenty-four months. Hell, we know the message so well by now that anyone of us could step in a campaign press secretaries on a moment’s notice. Truth be told, the message for each camp hasn’t really changed in decades, so why is it that we keep hearing about this wide swath of “undecideds?” Either these people are so completely A.D.D., or they are so tone deaf that they can’t discern the difference between a campaign stump speech and the ingredients on a box of shredded wheat.
I suspect neither is true. It’s time to call it for what it really is. These “undecideds” are not undecided, but rather nothing more than a sampling of the most ego-centric, narcissistic bloc of voters who, if truth be told, are probably too attention starved to be allowed within a country mile of a voting booth. Hell, I’d wager they aren’t going to vote anyway. For them, elections are not about validating a politician. It’s about seeking validation for their own miserable, lonely selves. For them, elections aren’t about ideas and platforms. Elections are simply an opportunity for them to run out into the streets in their birthday suits screaming, “Love me! Love me! Won’t someone love me.” They are the social equivalent of your batty Aunt Mary who lives alone with her herd of smelly cats. She thinks she’s coolly eccentric and secretly desirable, but she lives alone with a herd of smelly cats! And she always will.
Undecided voters are the restaurant patron who arrives as soon as the doors open and keep sending the waiter away when he comes to take their order with a polite, “do you need a few more moments?” Yes, they demur. And this goes on until five minutes before closing when they finally ask, “What were the specials, again?” It isn’t about the food. Hell, they aren’t hungry anyway. It’s about someone showing up every fifteen minutes to fawn over them and “take their order.” It’s about controlling the affections of others.
We treat the “undecideds” like the crown jewel in the Triple Crown. If only we can convince them, we will break away in the stretch of the longest, most boring race imaginable and trot off with the prize of being the next elected this or that. What we should be doing is ignoring this self-adoring conflagration of attention starved lunatics and getting on with our miserable, pathetic voting lives.
The only way to deal with these “undecideds” is to completely ignore them. You weren’t going to get their votes anyway, because it was never about the vote. It was always about them. Send them home to their herd of smelly cats and for God’s sake, old man…you have freakin’ spinach in your freakin’ beard!