J.H. in Lake Forest, CA, writes: The origin of this verse is unknown; it’s been around since at least 1956, though in slightly different form:
The election is over; the results well known; The will of the people is clearly shown. Let’s forget our troubles and show by our deeds That we’ll give our leader all the help that he needs. So let’s all get together and let bitterness pass; I’ll hug your elephant and you kiss my donkey.
With a national election upcoming in the United States, I have been wondering how much the average American knows about the rights of U.S. citizenship. Naturalized citizens are required to pass a citizenship test (see link ) but those of us born as American citizens have no such requirement. I think it is time that ALL Americans, if they want to be called Americans, stand up and take a test to prove that they are indeed true-blue one hundred percent U.S. citizens.
Ergo (meaning more pompous than therefore), I offer the Curmudgeon-at-Large True-Blue United States Citizenship Test.
What are the last words of the national anthem?
a) Of Thee I Sing
b) God Save the Queen
c) And the Home of the Brave
d) Play Ball
2.What is the first question asked by a defense attorney to his client?
a) Are you guilty?
b) Are you innocent?
c) How much money have you got?
d) Want some crack?
3. What is the proper drink for the Fourth of July?
a) Pabst Blue Ribbon
d) All of the above
4. Where was President Barak Obama born?
5. Where was Donald Trump born?
a) New York
c) In a galaxy far, far away
d) He wasn’t born; he was hatched.
6. Which person below is NOT true-blue one hundred percent American?
7. What do you do when go into a voting booth?
a) Vote for the candidates of your choice
b) Vote for the candidates you were paid to vote for
c) Look for hidden cameras
d) Relieve yourself
8. In the event no candidate for President of the United States receives the required number of electoral votes, who chooses the next president?
b) World Wrestling Federation
c) Some unknown guy hidden in Cheyenne Mountain, Wyoming
d) Highest bidder
9. What are the three branches of government?
a) Olive, birch and palm
b) Huey, Dewey and Louie
c) Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous
d) It doesn’t matter, they’re all crooks.
10. Match the statement to the president.
a) I am not a crook.
George H.W. Bush
b) I did not have sexual relations with that woman.
c) Read my lips.
d) Gerald Ford can’t piss and chew gum at the same time.
11. What are the first words a foreign-speaking naturalized citizen should understand when entering the United States?
a) Welcome to America.
b) Stay in your lane.
c) You have the right to remain silent.
d) Attention, Kmart shoppers!
12. How often does the United States Constitution get changed?
a) Every four years
b)Every two years and four months
c) Whenever an amendment is ratified by three-fourths of the states
d) When it gets dirty
To get your results, please place your answers, a self-addressed stamped envelope and $500 in cash (preferably small bills) in a sealed envelope and mail it to:
To lighten your mind (translation: waste your time) after a seemingly endless election campaign season in the US, ponder on these imponderables:
If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren’t people from Holland called Holes?
Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?
Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?
When cheese gets its picture taken, what does it say?
If a person who plays the piano is called a pianist why is a person who drives a racing car not called a racist?
Why are a wise man and a wise guy opposites?
Why do overlook and oversee mean opposite things?
Why isn’t the number 11 pronounced onety one?
“I am” is reportedly the shortest sentence in the English language. Could it be that “I do” is the longest sentence?
If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn’t it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys deranged, models deposed, tree surgeons debarked, and dry cleaners depressed?
What hair color do they put on the driver’s licenses of bald men?
Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do, write to them? Why don’t they just put their pictures on the postage stamps so that mail carriers can look for them while they deliver the mail?
You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.
No one ever says “It’s only a game” when their team is winning.
Isn’t making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?
If four out of five people suffer from diarrhea, does that mean that one out of five enjoys it?
Before they invented drawing boards, what did they go back to?
If one synchronized swimmer drowns, do the rest have to drown too?
How is it possible to have a civil war?
If swimming is so good for your figure, how do you explain whales?
Can fat people go skinny-dipping?
Why is it that to stop Windows, you have to click on “Start?”
If work is so terrific, how come they have to pay you to do it?
Fresh from my successful stint as a political consultant for your victorious entry-level political campaign (Politics 101), I’m ready to give advice for bigger and better things.
At least one campaign debate should be moderated by Jerry Springer, Jesse Ventura or World Wrestling Entertainment Chairman Vince McMahon. Jerry Springer will keep a crew of bouncers, dressed in black, just off stage in the likely event that a surprise guest makes an appearance in the middle of the debate and starts a fight with one or more of the candidates. Jesse Ventura or Vince McMahon will start the fight themselves.
At least one debate will be held in a school cafeteria so that the candidates can engage in both a war of words and a food fight. [By the way, there are few foods that can’t be improved by adding enough butter, flour, sugar or alcohol. That’s a food freebee.]
Another debate should be held at a senior center. Instead of an American Idol-like background with constant interruptions of applause, boos and cheers, we will only hear mumbles and occasional snoring. It will also give the viewing audience an idea of what they can look forward to. Such a debate will go over really big in places like South Florida or Arizona, which are in effect holding patterns for Heaven.
One debate should include a magic trick – saw a candidate in half or make a candidate disappear (or make them all disappear).
One debate should have a séance (“Can you hear me, Richard Nixon?”).
At least one campaign appearance should be conducted in a large arena and have a gladiatorial contest and a beheading.
To connect with the people, make as many campaign appearances as possible in folksy diners, barber shops, rodeos, truck pulls, tattoo parlors and opium dens. Grow your own marijuana and then give it away. Conduct a mass wedding.
Annoy people. You can annoy some of the people some of the time, and all of the people some of the time but can you annoy all of the people all of the time? If you can annoy enough people in your district, you can get elected because they will vote for you rather than have to listen to one more campaign speech, request for money or robo-telemarketing call.
Be unique. Stand out from other candidates by not shaking hands, touching or kissing any constituent. In fact, only make campaign appearances in a bio-hazard suit and explain that your number one concern is the safety of the people you wish to represent and the danger of transmitting illness through direct contact.
Invent a cause. Attack things that have no chance of attacking back – geese and other migratory fowl; obscure island nations; lighthouses; pacifists.
With the election season upon us and a number of you weighing in on your dearly cherished views, I know that, at some point in your life, you may have gotten the urge to enter politics.
Unless you are Donald Trump, Steve Forbes, H. Ross Perot or a bunch of forgettable (or soon to be forgettable) characters, you cannot afford to start your career in politics at the top by running for President of the United States. Yet the very thought of kissing a million gooey babies, shaking a zillion hands and spending your weekday nights on the rubber chicken circuit sends you screaming away in revulsion. Happily, after all these years, I have finally decoded the method for avoiding these unpleasant events and getting that coveted first step in election glamour – being elected Soil and Water Commissioner.
First, having a good name helps. Suppose you must choose one of the following for Soil and Water Commissioner:
Osama Bin Laden II
Wojceich Postrzyzyny Przbrz.
Now it does the unfortunately named Bin Laden II no good that he is a pacifist, a poet and a Samaritan and is not related in any way, shape or form to the other nasty guy. Nor does it aid mister unpronounceable, vowel-deprived Przbrz in the fact that he was a former freedom fighter and an experienced hydrologist. John Adams may be a stew bum and a derelict but he will get your vote every time. Of course, if you are in a heavily Polish-American voting district, then Mr. Przbrz is your choice even if he is a stew bum.
Second, placement is key. Get your name placed as close to the top of the list as possible. Let me use another example. Vote for two of the following for Soil and Water Commissioner:
Now Mr. Adams is in trouble. We might spend some time on President, Senator, Congressman or County Executive, but Soil and Water Commissioner? Aren’t we going to pick the first two reasonable sounding names and go on? I have had some discussion with friends on this theory. There are those who pick anybody but the first two names out of contrariness. There are others who work from the bottom up and still others who pick every other name. I still insist that being first on the list gives you an advantage.
Third, have a plethora of signs before the election. While I have not yet found a study that makes a correlation between the number of “vote for me” signs and the effectiveness of the candidate, it certainly must mean something for someone to go through all that trouble to mar major and minor highways with signs asking you to vote for them. Now you might make the case that a really good Commissioner would not deface the countryside with an endless stream of “vote for me” signs and only put up a few but, psychologically, don’t we correlate the number of signs with the strength of the candidate?
So that’s the plan – good name, key placement in the list and tons and tons of election signs. When you use my foolproof technique and get elected as the next Soil and Water Commissioner, you can decode the mystery I haven’t solved over all these years – what does a Soil and Water Commissioner do?