A New Christmas Tradition

Now, everyone knows the traditional Christmas stuff: Santa, his elves, his 7 reindeer (he got hungry), the North Pole (for which Mrs. Claus thanks the little blue pills), delivering toys to all the good little kids in the world, eggnog, stockings, trees, mistletoe (try and trick stupid girls into thinking that two mistletoe equals a beej) and all that other stuff. The problem is that all of these traditions and what not are really fucking old. They date back to ancient Egypt where Jimi Hendrix once played guitar for 17 straight days while high on 44 pounds of shrooms, and at the end, Santa Claus was born out of a jelly donut. Because these traditions, while nice, are so incredibly old, The Head thinks that it’s time to start new ones. To that effect, The Head would like to propose:

The Christmas Hooker.

Godammit Shatner, that ain’t the type of hooker I meant and you know it! No *you* shut up! Don’t you take that tone of voice with me! Don’t you dare pause after each and every word you… Ok fine! Forget the Christmas Hooker! It’s now called:

The Christmas Whore.

You happy Kirk?

Here we go…

Oh dear lord… What have I done? Excuse me…

Sorry. I think my soul just threw up there. Maybe I’ll take another try at…

Oh fuck, I look like a whored up Christmasy Martha Stewart…

To hell with the picture… Moving along. so the idea of the Christmas Hook- I *mean*, the Christmas Whore is that,we round up all the regular whores parading around the city, doll them up a bit with Christmas decorations and what not, and then leave them under the trees of good little boys and girls to unwrap on Christmas morning.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking “HEAD! How could you even suggest that our children engage in inappropriate behavior with whores?!? You’re worse than Billy Ray Cyrus!”

The point isn’t that the Christmas Whores perform any inappropriate action with the kids. As a matter of fact, they are simply there to provide the kids with some harmless companionship, teach them values, play fun childhood games, and instruct them on how to avoid the backhand of an angry pimp while at the same time negotiating a good deal on crystal meth.

Naturally, as whores are in general somewhat expert in the field of sex, they would help give your kids the best and most frank instruction on sex education. No longer would parents have to have the awkward “talk” with their kids! Instead, they simply wait for Christmas to roll around, and trust that the Christmas Whore will take care of this is excruciatingly painful detail.

This will also help teach your children about responsibility, as they will have to walk their Christmas Whore 3 times a day (to the motel so they can meet their Johns), feed them every morning and night (only use the recommended Purina Whore Chow as it gives them a much needed boost of energy and keeps their coat nice and shiny), and also clean out the Christmas Whore’s litter box. These are extremely valuable lessons that kids can really pick up on by helping take care of a malnourished woman with track marks  and a switch blade tucked into her “come fuck me” boot.

Ask yourself this: When you get back to work after the holidays, do you want to be one of those lame ass parents that got your kid a Barbie, a Wii or a Tickle Me Rod Stewart? Or do you want to be the envy of the workplace, puff your chest out with pride, and look your co-workers in the eye (yes, even crazy Lenny, the one that pokes people with a sharpened pencil) and tell them that you went out and got the best whore 23$ and a pack of gum could buy?

I thought so.

Signs You May In Fact Have a Case of The Gay

Greetings all, your unfriendly neighborhood Head wanted to give you all a Head’s up (it’s like a typical head’s up, but more official) about a serious issue affecting society. No, it’s not the swine flu, that is easy to solve (stop kissing pigs).

No kids, The Head is referring to… The Gay. Yes kids, some of you may have already caught The Gay without realizing it. It’s a subtle thing, and may in fact have been in you all along with you even realizing it. Now, The Head isn’t 100% certain what The Gay is exactly… something to do with mesh, men named Lance, and a “power top”… whatever that is… as best as The Head can figure…

Regardless, according to such valued scientists as the Pope, Ronald Reagan and Chuck Norris, The Gay is something best avoided by those who wish to continue enjoying things like Freedom and sweet potatoes.

So The Head is going to give you all a small rundown on the symptoms that indicate that you, or a loved one, has The Gay:

1) If while chatting with co-workers one of them starts a sentence with “… hey, did you catch the Streisand concert on tv last night?” Should you be inclined to answer with anything other than a scoff or a puzzled expression, you have The Gay.

2) If you are a dude and you have an earring, and are not, nor have ever been a pirate, then you in fact have The Gay. Also, it doesn’t look cool. You know it, we know it. You aren’t kidding anybody here. Personally The Head would enjoy kicking the shit out of dudes with earrings, but it would be labeled as a hate crime, so he just judges them with disdain.

3) If you are a guy and you go clothes shopping with anything other than the thought of “Ok, let’s get this over as quickly as humanly possible…”, oh boy do you have The Gay.

4) You go to either a club, a bar, a house party or any other social event, look around and immediately remark sadly, “aw man, this place is totally not a sausage fest!” Or, if you enter one of the above mentioned locales and remark “aw man, I’ve already had copious amounts of the gay sex with all these guys!” then you might have The Gay.

5) If while reading your latest copy of Soldier of Fortune, Big Game Hunter, Playboy, Monster Trucks or Sports Illustrated, you think that a tiny glass of chardonnay (not too much, it goes straight to your hips!) and a small slice of that blue cheese in the fridge would be just heavenly! Then you have The Gay. And are in denial. Plus, who has a magazine subscription anymore? Really…

The Head Reviews: The Twilight Saga: New Moon

Okay, granted, The Head hasn’t exactly seen the movie. He has, however, heard about it. He also has the distinct sadness to report that he had read the book. It’s true. The circumstances around the event were beyond his control though!

(FLASHBACK)

Dane Cook: Read this fucking book!

The Head: What? Fuck no!

Dane Cook: Read this book or I will fucking shoot you! (waves gun threateningly).

The Head: Go ahead and shoot me you smug son of a bitch. I’d rather die a hero, then live a life where that shit is permanently in my brain!

Dane Cook: Read the book or I’ll perform my “comedy”, right here, right now!

The Head: Hey look, a sparkly vampire… Ooo, a pathetic werewolf… Sweet Jesus made of cheese, just shoot me!

Dane Cook: I am soooo unfunny! HAHAHA!

(/FLASHBACK)

So, as you can see, The Head was most definitely not eager to watch this movie after having to suffer through the only book he had ever read that was worse than “Choose Your Own Adventure: Sarah Palin Hunting Wolves”.

Of course, that’s not to say that he didn’t come close, dangerously close, to seeing this piece of shit…

(FLASHBACK)

Dane Cook: Go see New Moon!

The Head: What? Fuck no!

Dane Cook: I’ll perform my come-

The Head: Here, read this. (hands the worst comedian of our generation a piece of paper)

Dane Cook: Kooc enaD?  Nooooooooo!

The Head: If you get him to say his name backwards, he goes back to his own dimension.

(/FLASHBACK)

So The Head will now review this movie that he has not seen. Here we go.

It. Fucking. Sucks.

What? You need more detail than that? FINE!

Here’s a brief synopsis: This movie follows from where Twilight left you. Plain looking girl that is ever so clutzy and weird, and just happens to have every guy that meets her fall in love with her, and a 100 year old mysterious creature that can’t be a vampire because vampires fucking eat people and don’t fucking sparkle in sunlight are all happy and shit and together and are in the most unhealthy relationship ever.

Shit happens, and the Mushagushaboo (that’s what I’ll call Edward, because he sure as fuck ain’t a vampire) decides to leave Bella in the forest to die.

She then whines a lot because a guy that treats her like crap, that stalked her, that watched her while she slept without her knowledge, and a bunch of other ridiculous stuff leaves her. She also goes crazy and hears voices, but I digress.

Now her little friend from the first book, Squanto, shows up. Only he ain’t a little pipsqueak anymore, he’s a fucking retardedly ripped little Squanto that had every shirt he owned stolen. Or something. Now, as he is a guy, he naturally falls in love with the ridiculously plain, neurotic, emotionally unstable Bella. I mean, who wouldn’t?

So for the next good while, she pretty much cock teases him. Like really bad. He’ll be all like:

Squanto – “Gosh Bella, I really like you. You have so many horrible, horrible faults, but for some reason, almost because some crazy Mormon is making me feel it, I think I love you!”

Bella – “Oh Squanto! I love you and your ridiculous six-pack too… Is what I would say if I weren’t horribly in love with a Mushagushaboo that abandoned me and left me to die. You’re alright. How about I hover my lips really close to your face but never follow through?”

It also turns out that he is a werepuppy. Not a werewolf, not, he transforms into my fucking puppy dog. Woof. He’s so scary. Go fetch the bone Squanto. Good boy!

More shit happens, and Bella abandons her Squanto because the guy that emotionally abused her and invaded the sanctity of the home she shares with her father decides to off himself.

Edward the Mushagushaboo, decides that the best way to kill himself is to sparkle in Italy, because as we all know, the Pope sits in his magical Pope Tower with a sniper rifle, just waiting for something to have the ungodly temerity to mother fucking sparkle!

More shit happens. Bella and the Mushagushaboo are reunited and free to continue their retardely unhealthy relationship, Squanto decides to give homosexuality a chance and runs around half naked with a bunch of dudes, and every other character quickly remembers that they don’t matter, and promptly shuts the fuck up.

The End.

The saddest part is that this movie is retardedly easy to fix. It just requires the smallest little changes.

1. Bella is played by Angelina Jolie. No mention is made of the fact that this woman is obviously in her 30’s and is supposed to be like 17-18. It’s just Angie.
2. Edward has a sock puppet that he talks to called Mr. Chestington. It’s a British man that is clearly upper crust, but convinces Edward to do crazy things like watch people sleep, abandon girls to their doom, and bathe.
3. Instead of sparkling, whenever a “vampire” is exposed to sunlight, they turn into Nathan Lane.
4. Instead of constantly cock teasing the werewolf mexican native kid, the newly Angelina Jolie’d Bella spends an obscene amount of time fucking the shit out of him. Oh, and I play Squanto.
5. Every single time a ridiculously obvious mormon theme shows up, Orson Scott Card appears on screen and yells “I hate fags!”. Then he is shot in the face. One of his many clones continues the trend.
6. The role of Bella’s father is played by Clint Eastwood. The 79 year old spends the rest of the movie kicking the ever loving shit out of Edward for being such an emo douche.
7. A CGI Yoda, Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are added to the final scene, looking on approvingly. Also, there’s Ewoks.
8. There is at least one scene where Bella is with both Edward and Squanto, where she looks at the pasty white douch that smells, and then at the ridiculously ripped mexican. She then says “Really? I choose the scruffy Diggory? Really? What am I, an idiot?”
9. Bella and Edward, eyes smoldering and passion in their loins inch closer… and closer… Finally, they can resist no more and succumb to their carnal desires. Just as Edward fumbles off her pants, a tiny Gandalf jumps out and yells “You Shall Not Pass!” Then they all chuckle and share a cup of hot coco.
10. Just as Edward is about to sparkle in Italy, a tear opens in the space time continuum, and the Back to The Future car appears. Doc Brown and Professor Snape get out of the car and convince Edward that Harry Potter is in trouble and that they have to go Back… To The Future!” Then Eye of the Tiger plays.

 

The Art of Identifying a Douchebag

You’ve seen them. They’re the guys wearing two polo shirts with both collars popped, have ridiculously coiffed hair, love to show off their “guns”, and in general think that they are the king of the world. Yes my friends, The Head is talking about the mysterious creature known as the Douchebag

The Douchebag is a strange animal to comprehend. They clearly look absolutely ridiculous, act like punks, and are complete assholes, but somehow they are considered to be “cool”. Granted, the Douchebag has existed in one incarnation or another since man evolved from the time traveling space goats that crash landed on earth all those centuries ago, but these days the current incarnation of the Douchebag seems to have taken the art of Douchebaggery to a whole new level.

So as a public service, I will attempt to help you identify the horrific creature known as the Douchebag. Be warned though, these ‘Bros’ and ‘Brahs’ come in all shapes and sizes, and can be difficult to spot at first glance. Luckily there are a few tell tale signs to help you immediately know that the moron in front of you is actually a Douchebag.

The Douche Hair: This one is easy to spot. As a general rule, Douchebags want their hair to look as absolutely ridiculous as humanly possible. Bigger is usually better, unless they decide to get clever and shave funny little designs to look deep. More often than not, the hair goes “up”, especially right in front. Having stupid looking hair is an easy way to crave attention, and The Douchebag will do anything (up to and including painting their phone number onto the side of cows) for attention. Here is an example of Douchebag hair in action:

The Douche Muscles: Douchebags love to show off their muscles. And why not, they work hard to get them. Of course, they will do this at. every. possible. occasion. More often than not they wear shirts that are easy to get off and oil themselves up before going out in order to be able to get that topless as fast as possible. And what situations warrant the removal of the shirt? Well, here is a small sample:

• A hot chick walks by.
• On their 3rd beer.
• It’s time to get that party started.
• They love that song.
• It’s summer.
• Brah!
• To emphasize a point (the point doesn’t matter, and the DB likely doesn’t know what it is anyway).
• Existence.

A side effect of the Douche Muscles has been the evolution of the Douche Shirt. Buying and wearing a shirt of appropriate size is of no fun to the Douchebag. Oh no. They need to buy something at least two sizes smaller than what they should. Ideally they buy this in the little girl’s section at whatever posh store they shop at.

And here we have an example of this situation happening in nature, along with an example of the Douche Shirt in action:

The Douche Lips: Douchebags love to have their picture taken. THEY LOVE IT! It validates their entire existence to have their amazing awesomeness of awesomazing permanently captured for all time. It’s great because they can show off their super hair and their rippling muscles (that shirt flies off whenever they even smell a camera). The key thing though, for a proper Douchebag, is to get their lips juuuuust right. Here they have a choice. Either go for the Non Smiling Sneer, or the Pursed and Puckered lips. The Non Smiling Sneer clearly shows how incredibly bad ass they are, and that they would totally kick your ass, but like, they’d mess up their hair or something. The Pursed and Puckered Lips evolved from Douchebags loving the movie Zoolander, but failing to grasp that it was a satirical comedy. So, they pucker those bad boys for everything they’ve got. Rumours persist that one time a Douchebag puckered his lips so perfectly that a sparrow landed on it and immediately died out of awesome.

Here are two examples of the Douche Lips in action:

The Douche Tan: This one is a tricky one, because it isn’t a constant. Not all Douchebags have the Douche tan. However, it is popular in warmer areas, and a good indicator that what you are dealing with is in fact, grade A Douche. The idea here is that a regular tan just won’t do. Oh no, a regular tan doesn’t demand attention. The Douchebag wants all eyes on him, so he has to pump that tan up 134%. The result is a perfect tan. The result is a glow that makes everyone in a 2 mile radius look on in awe. The result is the pinnacle of modern tanning science. The result is… orange. The Douchebag becomes one with the tan, to the point that his Brahs and Broskies have no choice but to be humbled by the baked perfection that is his skin.

Here is the Douche Tan, in all it’s deliciously orange glory:

The Douche Tat: Douchebags love tattoos. Not as a method of self expression or art, but rather as an example of “Brah, look at my sweet tat! Braaaaah!” Douchebag tattoos come in two categories: 1) Meaningless tribal shit. 2) A Star.

Yes, a scientific study performed by NASA scientists at Science is GreatUniversity has developed a formula that proves that a full 103% of Douchebags will, at one point, get a star tattoo. The majority will get it on their arm into order to show off the guns, some will get it on their stomach to show off their abs, while the rest will get it around their Douche Dick… cuz… you know… Chicks like stars, bro!

Here is a prime example of the Douchebag pulling off the Douche Tat. Note how he emphasizes it in this picture, as if to say, “Originality, thy name is Douche!”:

The Douche Pack: My final tip to recognizing a Douchebag is to identify the Douche Pack. You see, a Douchebag just isn’t happy unless other people are there to appreciate his Douchebaggery. Since there are only two types of people that can stomach a Douchebag; other Douchebags and really drunk girls; the Douchebag will almost always be found in a Douche Pack. This pack of Bros will talk emphatically with their hands, usually make rude comments to passing girls (often involving pulvic thrust motions) and in general egg each other on with bigger and bigger Douchy acts.

Now, there is almost always an Alpha Douche. This Douchebag will get first crack at the hottest of the drunk girls, be the first one to crack open a Douche Beer, and always has first crack at mocking other people. The Alpha Douche will generally also be the first to remove his Douche Shirt, which according to the ancient laws of the Douche Pack, means that the rest of the pack must immediately follow suit. The Alpha Douche also can then grab the arm muscle of any of his Douche Pack, or run his hand down their abs of steel in appreciation, and it totally isn’t gay, a’ight?!?

Here we can see the Douche Pack in action. Notice the one with his thumb up? That, in Douche Bag lingo, indicates that everything is “Brah-tastic”:

At any rate, I hope that this will prove to be an invaluable tool in helping you all identify the Douchebags in the world around you. Remember, a Douchebag may act tough, but ultimately is about the pussyiest thing ever. In a fight scenario, you are guaranteed that the Douche Bag will slap his own chest at least 21 times before he’s ready to throw down. Use that opportunity to punch. 1 punch will usually do. Or walk away in disgust. Either way.

I’d like to thank the ever amusing site: http://www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com for having these images, and helping bring the Douchiest of Bags out to the light of day.

America did right with Barack, California screwed the pooch with Prop 8

Last night was an interesting night.  The Head watched poll returns, and resfrehed web sites to get the latest voting updates.  For the first time in a long time, The Head felt a degree of hope from you folks south of the border.  After you somehow managed to re-elect W to a second term, The Head was pretty much thinking it was Game Over.  However, last night I saw Barack Obama sweep the country, and become the 43rd PotUS.  The Head actually doesn’t have anything against John McCain.  He actually seems like a decent enough guy, a bit old, but tough.  In another situation, he might have been the go-to guy.  However, this just wasn’t his time.

I think that Americans did the right thing, at the right time, and for the right reasons.  It’s time for a changing of the guard.  It’s time to try and refresh things a bit.  It’s time to rejoin the rest of the world, to be a part of it, rather than try and boss it around.  It’s time to care about human rights, time to do the right thing, time to have the rest of the world like and respect America again.  Barack Obama brings this.  He has the potential to heal the wounds of mistrust, to bring about the “change” needed for the world to embrace the United States, rather than condemn them.  Americans should be proud.  They picked a man who is different.  Who can lead and be loved.  So thank you USA.  Thank you for having faith that change can be a good thing, showing that the color of a man’s skin is meaningless, and for showing the rest of the world that you want to be a part of it.

—

Now, on to California…  WHAT THE FUCK?  Seriously, what the fuck is going on over there?

You can vote in what is effectively a man that is helping eliminate discrimination, and then go ahead and discriminate against the homosexual population of the state?  REALLY?

Here are a few facts:

• The Head is married.
• The Head is a straight dude.
• The Head doesn’t particularly care one way or the other about a whole lotta things.

But, one thing that The Head does believe in, is that we are all equal.  That discrimination is wrong.  Sure, The Head’ll make a fag joke once in a blue moon.  The Head will make a racist joke.  The Head will poke fun of anyone and anything.  Why?  Because they are jokes.  The Head fully expects to be made fun of as well from time to time, because it’s just a fucking joke.  But to go ahead and say to the gay/lesbian/tanswhaetevered community that they do not deserve marriage?  To say that, in essence, a straight relationship is “better” than a same sex one?  Go fuck yourself!  C’mon now!

Gay marriage does not affect *anyone* other than that couple and their friends and family.  Because Adam and Steve are married, it does not magically hinder the marriage of Joe and Jane Bigot.  Nothing for you has changed.  Your marriage is still intact, and your day to day life goes on as normal.

Here’s a quote to think about.  It’s from Animal Farm by George Orwell: “All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others.”

Let that sink in.  Take out the word “animals” and replace it with “relationships”.  That’s California.

So congratulations to those that supported Prop 8.  Congratulations to people that wave Bibles around and want eveyone to believe what they believe.  Ah well, even if you don’t believe it, you still have to follow it apparently.  Congratulations to those who think that they are protecting “the family”.  Thanks for clearly indetifying what a family is.  It’s nice to have people like you around to tell us what’s what.

But most of all, thanks to those who voted for Barack Obama.  For his meesage of change, tolerance, and an end to discrimination, and then voted Yes on Prop 8.  Really, thanks.  Great job.  I’m really glad to see that the message sunk in.

Way to go California.  Way to go…

Election Day!!! (aka black dude becomes President day)

Hey kids,

Now, The Head has had a recent tirade or two in regards to the futility of voting.  And The Head firmly stands by that, and considers voting to not only be a waste of time, but counter productive.  Now here’s the qualifier: IN CANADA!

Americans today have the opportunity to choose their new leader (Obama), and *SHOULD* absolutely exercise their right to vote (for Obama).  The American political system has many flaws, but at least they can say that each and every one of their votes DOES matter.  Americans have the opportunity to decide not only the fate of their country, but the whole world, when they vote for Barack Obama.

So Americanos, please take the opportunity to express yourself politically.  Vote.

For Barack Obama.  Not John McCain.  He’s kind of scary.  And Sarah Palin, while kind of MILFy, is fucking shit faced crazy.  Seriously.  Oh, and something something about Prop 8.  Can’t remember which side I’m with on that one though.  Yes?  No?  Damn…  By the way, have you noticed how similar Barack Obama’s voice is to The Rock?  They seriously sound alike.  But I digress…

The Folly of Canadian Poltics (wow… that sounds fucking boring, doesn’t it?)

To start with, this past Tuesday, October 14th, was election day in Canada.  And by election day in Canada, I mean…

THE BIGGEST WASTE OF TIME EVER!!!

Sorry.  Here’s the thing.  People go on and on saying that you “have” to vote, that it’s your “duty”, that if you do not vote “you have no right to complain”.  Horseshit.  It’s a tired line that has no practical meaning today.  Yes, I went out and voted, but I really wish I didn’t.  Why?  It was a waste of my time.  For the third election in a row (coming in at every year and a half or so) we have another minority government.  What does this mean?  It means another election in a year and a half, and a whole lot of political bickering where nothing gets down and blame gets tossed around like an easy chick with poor self esteem.

You see, here in Canada (previously known as the Dominion of Canada, which is so much cooler as it sounds evil and ominous), we elect our government based on the British parliamentary system.  The problem here is that it is not ideal for a country that is about 4234 times larger than Great Britain, and has a much more diverse population.  In essence, we divide the country into “ridings”, pretty much based on population, and we vote in a representative for each riding.  There are a total of 308 ridings.  Each political party tries to win as many ridings as possible, with the party wining the most ridings forming the government.

Now, when a party forms a government, it can form a minority or majority government.  A majority requires that the party wins at least 155 of the ridings.  This way they have over half the ridings, and cannot be voted down by the other parties.  However, what we have in Canada right now is a minority government, with the party in power having less than 155 seats.  You see, now the other parties can, if they want to, oppose any legislation that the government wants to pass.

What does this mean?  It means sweet fuck all gets done.

Now, it gets all the odder as Canada is politically divided depending on the region of the country.  This creates a party like the Bloc Quebecois.  It is a party that runs solely in the province of Quebec, and for all intents and purposes, it’s goal is the seperation of Quebec from Canada.  Nationally, it received a little less than 10% of the vote.  However, it has 50 seats out of the 308.  Compare that to the NDP (New Democratic Party), which won a little over 18% of the vote, but only has 37 seats out of the 308.

Therein lies the problem.  We do not have anything near a system that adequately handles porportionate voting.  For example, I voted for the NDP.  However, in my riding, it was a pointless waste.  The NDP had zero chance of winning in my riding.  I essentially threw my vote away.  For all political (not financial) purposes, my vote would have had the same impact if I had written “Donkey Donkey Donkey” down.

For fun, let’s look at the election results, party by party (I’m sorry to any Americans reading, as this is going to be a boring rant):

Conservatives: 143 seats, 38% of the popular vote

Liberals: 76 seats, 26% of the popular vote

Bloc Quebecois: 50 seats, 10% of the popular vote

NDP: 37 seats. 18% of the popular vote

Green Party: 0 seats, 7% of the popular vote

Notice the problem?  Now, while I think the Green Party is a bit of a joke, 7% of the population of Canada does not.  Yet, they do not have a single seat.  The Bloc Quebecois, having only 3% greater support nationwide, have 50 seats.  7% of Canada wasted their votes.

Let’s suppose that the popular vote was what mattered.  How would things have changed (Give or take numbers rounding)?

Conservatives: 117 seats

Liberals: 80 seats

Bloc Quebecois: 31 seats

NDP: 55 seats

Green Party: 21 seats

This is a massive difference.  This way, peoples votes are not wasted.  The Conservatives would still be in power, albeit not with the lead they have now.  The Bloc Quebecois would have a level of power more in line with their national support.  The NDP would actually have a representation equal to their voter base.  And the Green Party would actually have a voice.

I admit that it’s far from a perfect system, but it would at least make each and every person’s vote count.  Instead of having my vote washed away because the canadiate in my riding I voted for was trounced, my vote would be part of the national total, meaning that it very much matters.  The participation in this election was one of the lowest in recent history.  Something in the area of 60% of eligible voters went out and voted.  I think a lot of it has to do with people thinking that their vote simply didn’t matter.  And the sad fact is that in a lot of cases, it really didn’t.

So here’s my take.  Until things change, I won’t be voting.  The system is horribly flawed, and is in desperate need of an overhaul.  At the bear minimum we need:

• At least 4 years between elections
• Every vote needs to matter

And to those who would say that I have to vote, and that I am wrong not to, I retort with: No, you are wrong.  You are supporting a system that is outdated, flawed and not representative with the will of the country.  It’s time to look elsewhere, other than the Bristish Westminster system.  Look over at the Riksdag in Sweden or the Eduskunta in Finland for at least the start of a parliamentary system that offers porportionate voting.