Does no ship have my name on it? Should I inflate a dinghy, leap overboard with a keg of fresh water, some fishhooks, and head out alone into open seas?
I switched ships just this year. I would have done it in 2008, but the presidential ballot did not cross the Rio Bravo in time to change my uniform, my sailor suit.
I have been a Democratic sailor all my life, but now I have joined the Republican Navy, and what a crazy crew it is. Just weeks ago, Todd Akin made some foolish comments about rape. The collectivists misinterpreted, both accidentally and on purpose, what he said.
I came to his rescue, injecting a little rationality into his unwise words, but I too was wildly misinterpreted, accidentally and on purpose.
And now another new crew mate of mine, an Indiana candidate named Richard Mourdock, had said out loud that a pregnancy resulting from rape is what God wants.
Jesus H. Christ! On what vessel am I sailing? A ship of loons?
The Taliban in Christian drag?
I would consider jumping back to my first ship at this point, but that vessel is not what it once was. It now waves the Jolly Roger of Collectivism, Redistribution and Race-Mongering.
It’s not my ship anymore.
But this Republican cruiser often doesn’t feel like my ship either. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. The problem is the fundamentalist Christian goofballs floating in the bilge.
I guess I belong on a Libertarian gunboat, but they don’t win elections because their Navy is far too small, and I want to sail with winners.
My ship’s cargo would have minimal government, lightly regulated capitalism, a strong military, legalized drugs, a tall border fence, abortion availability, and separation of church and state, though it would be fine to put a Christmas crèche in the public square.
English would be the Official Language.
And cultural diversity would be praised only when restaurant menus are involved.