“The right to be heard does not automatically include the right to be taken seriously.”

- Hubert H. Humphrey

If you haven't heard by now there is this little thing called a presidential election campaign going on. If this comes as some sort of shock to you please let me be the first to welcome you to America and I hope you enjoyed your boat ride from Cuba.

Normally I don't delve into politics, but not because I'm afraid of offending someone; if I was afraid of offending someone then I'd never get out of bed in the morning. It's a rare day that something doesn't start hitting the fan as soon as I take my head off the pillow.

No, my disinterest with the voting system ended for me in eighth grade when I wasn't elected class president. I feel I was cheated because I ran a decisive advertising campaign based on the platforms of equality for all students, free lunches, longer recess and the fact that Richard and Michael both had cooties.

I'd love to say that I was gracious when the votes were tallied and I came up short but, sadly, it ended with me winging a Hostess cupcake at Mike during his acceptance speech. Since then I have never really taken voting all that seriously, though in my own defense there's not much to be serious about anyway. I mean just look at the mascots the parties have. Republicans have an elephant that even Dumbo would laugh at, and the Democrats have a donkey that looks like a stunt double from the movie “Shrek.” The independents on the other hand, well, I guess they just wave a white flag and call it a day.

You see, to me, the whole process seems a little childish. First off there is the “secret ballot” which is sort of like when you see a falling star and then make a wish. You're not supposed to tell anyone what you wished for fear it won't come true; same thing with voting.

Then there's the booth. OK, I actually enjoy the “boothing” experience. It reminds me of going into a dressing room at a store, which is probably why the voting inspectors give me that strange look when I walk in wearing one thing and then come out in a totally different outfit.

Yeah, I love the whole process, except for that moment when you pull the big lever all the way back and the curtains separate, and suddenly, like a game show, a bell goes off. That's the part that kind of creeps me out every time. I never know if I have just made a conscious decision for a new president or have granted an angel its wings.

Just remember that when the day comes; get out there and cast your vote because every single one counts just like it did in 2004 when we all voted for Gore, which just proves you shouldn't take these things too seriously.

Auburn native Bradley Molloy's column appears here, each

Sunday, in The Citizen. He can be reached at lovonian@hotmail.com