Dead Zone

It’s time for my bi-annual article about how much I hate Chris Van Hollen.

I almost let it slide this year because, at some point around 2008, I gave up. I stopped following politics, I stopped watching the news… I just can’t face the world anymore. And, let me tell you, I feel like a free man. I don’t know what the Tea Party is about, I had no idea who Glenn Beck was until his rally threatened to interrupt my evening commute, and I have no idea how Obama’s doing. Though I do know that he’s become a lost cause. “Nobama” to some and “Slobama” even to those who still hold onto a feeble thread of faith.

But, of course, I was wary of him from the get-go.  As with all my causes (Van Hollen killing us all, Obama burning up on reentry, and the closure of 8407), I have prepared articles saying “I told you, so, assholes.” But, in the meantime, there’s nothing for me to do but rant.

So, anyway. Van Hollen.

It all began when he was first running in 2003 and he rented out space at my weekend job for a fundraiser. Get all the swells in there, pose with the family, shake hands, the usual.

At my weekend job, I’m essentially a glorified janitor. My job is to supervise the caterers, vendors, and the venue itself and make sure the place doesn’t burn down. For the most part, I get to hide in a back office and avoid people. But you check in with me and you check out at the end, so I’m not completely a ghost (despite my best efforts).

As Van Hollen was the client, I went out and greeted him, gave my little spiel about how I’m with the venue and if there are any problems come get me and blah fucking blah.

From the moment I stepped up to him, he stared through me like I was a clear pool of water. He gave me a limp, sweaty handshake and seemed not to hear a word I was saying. He didn’t acknowledge me, and he turned away as soon as I let go of his hand.

Of course, being a ghost floating around behind the scenes affords me the opportunity to observe the client as they really are when they slip into a corner to take a break from the crowd. I see and hear everything through a combination of security cameras and my own nosferatu-like existence as I creep through the house and grounds on my regular patrol. Also, my office is in the “green room,” and I’m hidden away in a corner behind boxes. Whenever the client, a vendor, or anyone comes in, I can sit silently in the gloom and eavesdrop.

When out of the public eye, and not knowing that I was lurking in the shadows, Van Hollen treated his family roughly the same way he treated me. That same strange Stepford Wife blank stare.

Occasionally, throughout the event, I was forced to check in with him with questions or problems that required an answer. Yet the answer would only come from his wife. Van Hollen himself would just continue to gaze through me. At the end of the event, he took off and left the place a mess.

The caterers and cleaners all thought he was creepy, as well, and they got the same sort of treatment. He refused to even acknowledge what I guess he figured was simply the “help.”

All this, really, is not surprising. Most of these politicians are assholes and, after all, it is about money and not votes, right? Who cares about the people, right? This is Maryland and he was a Democrat, poised to take over liberal Republican Connie Morella’s Congressional slot and become one of our immortal vampire overlords. (Most state-level Maryland Democrats have been in office for longer than I’ve been alive.)

Morella was wonderful, though. A true friend to the Maryland Democrat. And she had an iron grip on her seat…until she voted for Iraq. You know, along with all the Democrats. So she was lynched by an angry mob of armchair liberals and Van Hollen rode into office on the anti-Bush backlash freakout.

Has he proven himself since then? Well, yeah. But it’s not about his record. It’s not about his accomplishments. My problem with Van Hollen is on that Dead Zone level. I am not kidding – when I shook that man’s hand and looked into his soulless eyes as he gazed through me, every core of my body screamed out in horror. I had a premonition – this man will destroy us all. He’ll ride to higher office, and we’ll anoint him and praise him, and the armchair liberals will lift him on their shield… And he’ll kill us all. Seven years later and the certainty of this premonition still rattles my nerves.

So vote against him. There’ll be some loser Republican running against him and, I promise you, Van Hollen will win no matter what. He really is our new vampire overlord. And, in the end, if he does turn into Greg Stillson from the Dead Zone, I don’t really care. I simply encourage you to put in a protest vote so Van Hollen doesn’t enjoy his normal landslide victory. He coasts through every election with 75% of the vote. Don’t allow that! Let’s get him down into the 50’s. The only way to defeat our vampire overlords is if we confuse them, and keep them on the defensive.

If voting Republican makes you want to swallow a lightbulb, then I’m sure the idiotic Green Party will put someone up again. The great thing about a protest vote is that it doesn’t matter. (Suggestion: Write in Nacho Sasha.)

Now, I should head off the idiots at the pass. If you’re going to leave some angry comment about how much of a retard I am, then please also explain why you continually come here and read my posts. Is someone holding you at gunpoint and forcing you to do so?