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Once upon a time there lived three little voters. They were brothers. One fine day they all decided to set out and seek their fortunes in the wider world.

Their loving mother was happy for them but still sad to see them go. She kissed each of them goodbye. She warned them as they left her home, “Beware of the big bad politician, the wicked politician.”

At first the three little voters walked along together. They talked gaily in the sunshine. No big bad politician was going to bother them!

The youngest little voter talked about equality and free stuff and the horrors of global warming. “I’m a progressive!” He declared to his bored brothers.

The next little voter began to talk about pride in the military, lower taxes, and patriotism. “I am a conservative,” he said. His brothers trudged along.

The oldest brother was a little put out with the other two. He said nothing was free and there should be no taxes at all. “I’m not really a voter at all,” he mused, “government serves the big bad politician.” His younger brothers paid no heed.

After walking and talking together for some time the three little voters decided to go their separate ways.

The youngest little voter, who was a tad lazy, stopped right where he was. “Home at last,” he said. He made his home in an ideology of straw.

The next little voter walked on until he came to a nice little gentrified neighborhood. “Here is where I belong,” he said. He, being more industrious but more gullible than his younger brother, made his home in an ideology of twigs.

The oldest and wisest little (non) voter walked far and wide. He finally found a little corner where he come mind his own business in peace. “Peace and quiet,” he said, “now to work!” His home philosophy was as solid as brick.

Time past. An election drew near. One day the youngest, laziest, progressive little voter was lounging around smoking pot when along came the politician, the wicked politician.

wolf-at-the-door

Disney.

“Little voter, little voter, vote me in!,” said the old liar. “I will help the poor and guarantee you student loans and free healthcare,” he said with fingers crossed.

The dumb little voter, forgetting what his mother admonished him, agreed and voted for the politician. He lived a debt slave’s life of poverty thereafter.

Later than evening the second more gullible little voter was in his yard talking loudly about how tough he was when along came the big bad politician.

“Little voter, little voter, vote me in!,” said the filthy charleton. “I will fight off those no good foreigners who hate you for your freedom!,” he hissed.

The dumb little voter, forgetting what his mother admonished him, agreed and voted for the politician. He was soon drafted into the army and was killed by “friendly fire” in a bankers’ war in Neverheardofitistan. 

The oldest, wisest, most resilient little (non) voter (more a personal anarchist, really) was hard at work selling his wares at the market when the wicked old politician crept up on him.

“Little voter, little vot….,” the thief began.

“Go f@#k yourself!,” replied the wise little anarchist without even looking. The evil politician crept away aghast.

Later the little (non) voter was minding his own business when the dirty wolf of a politician approached him again.

“Excuse me good voter, may I offer…,” he solemnly inquired.

“How do you feel about brass knuckles in your teeth, Jack? Beat it!,” ordered the wise little anarchist. The politician slunk away, rodent style but angry.

The next morning the angry, arrogant, evil, lying, theiving, dirty, rotten, lowdown, no count, good for nothing politician aimed to corner the last little voter at home. He ignored the black flag on the pole and the “I shoot back” bumper sticker as he slithered up to the little (non) voter’s house.

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Google.

“Little voter, little voter! Vote me in!,” he commanded. “Or I’ll tax, and I’ll regulate, and I’ll make your will bend!,” he howled.

No one ever saw that dastardly old politician again. The bankers replaced him with another shill. As for the happy little anarchist, he’s still minding his own business, a trouble to none, friend to all of good will. He regularly visits his dear mother. He lived happily ever after.

12079587-lovers-sunset

Google.

The end.

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