NH Has No Clothes

If you’re hoping for some photos, look up. Or down and to the right.

If you’re hoping NH is a woman’s initials, move along.

But if you figure this post features New Hampshire, good for you!

As the child saw the famous emperor, so I see New Hampshire.

And since I’m an apolitical non-voter, I just as well be the one to break the news.

The Republican primary in New Hampshire is stark naked. (I’m a straight shooter.)

I’ve heard nobody say so. The result of such ignorance is a bunch of multi-angled gazing at the beauty of its results.

Pundits, politicians, bloggers, analysts, voters, financiers, standers-by — everyone gapes at a beauty that isn’t there. But unlike the people in the original emperor story, nobody today is pretending to not be looking at ghastly nudity. Nope. They all seem to think they’re looking at fancy clothes.

So here I am, telling you the truth. The New Hampshire Republican primary is…well…weird. They let a whole pile of non-Republicans vote on who should represent the Republicans in the Presidential election. Why not also let the Iranians choose what American naval vessels they’ll go up against? I mean, really.

What makes the whole thing even more weird is that then the New Hampshire results are presented as part of a heavy-weight make-or-break trifecta for the Republican nominee wanna-bes. (Poor Jon Huntsman. He should have waited to drape suspenders on his campaign until he read this post.)

If I were a Republican, I wouldn’t put up with the naked charade. If I were a Republican candidate, I’d be playing this tune loudly and clearly. But I’m neither, so I watch from the sidelines and shout to the wind, “New Hampshire has no clothes!”

Oh, and if you want to advance from branding this weirdness as weird to thumping it soundly with a sinister stamp, you could figure out that this is all about The Powers That Be controlling who the voters get to choose from. They do this by making a little state with an open primary be a bell-weather state.

Bell-wether or bell-weather or whatever kind of bell, it sounds like a death knell to me. It tolls in memory of logic and reason, freedom and democracy, and likely some other things.

I mean, really. So these early states have a track record for picking he would be the eventual nominee. What kind of superstition is that? And what are people eating and breathing and drinking that the voters and the candidates and the money-bags all go along with it? (Maybe the fluoride and the chem trails are finally paying off.)

I just shake my head at it all.

No, I haven’t written all my thoughts on this. I see more angles to this foolishness, but why offer clothing to the naked when they’re persuaded they’re already garbed all pretty-like?

So just why am I — politically-inparticipant that I am — taking all this time to write this? Maybe it’s to urge Christians to Occupy Prayer Closet instead of the voting booth. Your praying can be far more effective!