Vote Or Get Your Ass Whipped

Odienator here.

One should never talk about sex, politics or religion in polite company, but who said you were with polite company?

I'm not going to tell you whom to vote for, because if I truly had the power to persuade you, I'd ask for something far more valuable. Like your wallet. Or your love. Instead, I am dropping my usual sarcasm, and today's entry, to sincerely ask you to just get out and vote. It's Super Tuesday, so if you are in one of the many states that has a primary, it is imperative that you get out and vote. To help you remember, I have come up with my very own slogan and ad campaign. Vote...Or Get Your Ass Whipped.

Puffy trademarked that other phrase about voting, so I had to come up with my own less violent slogan. However, no television network would air my ads because they were too controversial. Not even BET, and they're about as picky about content as a fly is about balls of shit. But you decide. Here's one:

(Scene, the New York City Subway, 125th Street Station)

Tyrone: Yo, are you voting today? I'm going down on my lunch break.


Pookie: Nah man! I'm not voting. What good is voting? That ain't gonna change the world.

Tyrone: Man, you buggin'! I can't believe you're not exercising your right to have your voice heard.

Pookie: I can get my voice heard right now. Lookee here! (Yelling to everyone) I AM NOT GONNA VOTE! VOTING IS FOR SUCKAS!!!

Tyrone: Sigh.

(The A train pulls into the station. The conductor window pulls up right in front of the two young men.)

Tyrone: OH SNAP! Harriet Tubman is driving the A train!

Tubman (played by Cicely Tyson): Which one of you said he was not going to vote today?

(Everyone in the scene points at Pookie.)

Tubman: I'd like a word with you, young man. Would you please come to the window?

(Pookie walks to the window. When he gets there, Harriet Tubman balls up her fist and punches him like George Foreman hit Joe Frazier.)

Pookie: OW! Why you do that, Ms. Tubman? You said you wanted a word with me.

Tubman: And that word was POW! What's wrong with you, boy?! You think I was trekking up the path to freedom in $300 Reeboks? Do you think I risked my life to help free us so that one day we'd have all the rights and privileges you do today so that you can shirk your responsibilities?

Pookie: But Ms. Tubman, I--

Tubman (hauling off and slapping him): Boy, interrupt me again and I'll beat you til these calluses fall off my hand!

Pookie: You lucky I don't hit women!

Tubman: You disrespectful little--are you aware that I'm dead? I came back from the dead, I'm driving the A train, and I hit like Ali. With all that accomplishment, do you actually think you can whip my ass?

Pookie: Um, no ma'am. I promise I'll go vote! Just don't hit me again!

Tubman: You better. People died so you can have the right to vote. Don't make me come back here and have to pull your behind through the TV like Poltergeist.

Announcer: Vote! Or Get Your Ass Whipped By the Ghosts of Your Ancestors.

Well, I thought it was restrained.

As an alternative, I wrote a little spoken word poem to run on urban stations in the Super Tuesday States. Please allow me to read it to you.

You can do it Democratic,
Even if it's not Obama.
You can even go Republican,
and I won't tell yo' mama.
No matter how you do it,
If in person, or remote.
It just matters that you do it.
Get your ass out there and vote.

It's not as effective as that Sam Jackson as Frederick Douglass ad I made, but I guess it'll have to do.

Your homework assignment:

See the last line of that poem.