copyright © 2003 by Robert L. Blau

   
    Transylvania used to be a nice place to live.  That was before that fateful election.
    "I don't think I like this new president," I said.
    "Ho, hum," shrugged Kitty.
    "No better or worse than the others," said Louie.  My friends didn't seem to share my reservations.
    "But the guy's name is 'Vlad the Impaler.'  Doesn't that cause you any concern?"
    "Yeah, but he's a compassionate impaler," said Louie. "He promises a jar of vaseline for each person for each event."
    "Yeah, but he's a compassionate impaler," I countered. "Catch the difference in emphasis?  I don't see how a little vaseline changes the overriding reality of a sharp stick up your bum."
    They all laughed.
    "They're all like that," said Kitty with a dismissive wave.
    "All impalers?" I said skeptically. "I must've missed that on the preceding six presidents."
    "Well, maybe not exactly," said Louie, "but they all screw you over in one way or another.  Anyway, it was a close election.  He can't do much because he doesn't have a mandate."
    "But his supporters were seen impaling opposition voters near the voting sites," I objected. "That was before he was even elected."
    "I expect those were just exit polls," said Kitty. "Get it?"
    I didn't.

    Vlad the Impaler, or "V" as we came to call him, celebrated his inauguration with a mass impaling.  He even reneged on the vaseline promise.  Too expensive, he said.  Fiscal responsibility, he said.
    "He sure got to it in a hurry," I observed.
    "Well, he had to, didn't he?" said Louie. "He has to protect us from the Turks."
    "That's right," said Kitty. "The whole north field is covered with writhing, screaming Turks."
    "Hmm," I mused. "But what about the writhing, screaming Transylvanians all over the back 40 over there?"
    "Ambiance?" suggested Kitty.
    V went from sad to sadistic.  Eventually, almost everyone agreed that he would have to go.  The question was, who would replace him?  Fortunately for us, three candidates came forth. 
    The first was named Radu the Beheader.  "Beheading is a much more humane form of execution," he declared.  "So, no more impaling?" we asked.  "I wouldn't go that far," he said. "We've got to keep that option sharp to keep the Turks at bay.  I just think beheading is more fun."
    The second candidate was Zoltan the Anti-Impaling Candidate.  That sounded very promising.  "You're against impaling, then?" we asked.  "Absolutely!" he said. "I'm the Anti-Impaling Candidate."  "So, you'll get rid of all those sharp impaling sticks?"  "Oh, no," he said. "We can't do that.  Not with the Turks at our door.  In fact, I favor increasing the number of impaling poles to support our troops."  Something in that didn't sound quite right, but I'm not sure what it was.  Someone wanted to know how he could be the anti-impaling candidate and still want to stock more pointed poles.  "Turks!" he said. "Support our troops!  I'm the Anti-Impaling Candidate!"
    The third candidate was a guy named Ziggy.   He said he wasn't going to impale anyone.  "Not even Turk sympathizers?" we asked.  "Correct," he said. "I'm going to promote the people's health and welfare.  No one will be impaled."  "Except the Turks," we corrected.  "No," he said. "Not even the Turks.  I'm going to make peace with them."

    "So, who are you going to vote for?" I asked Louie.
    "Zoltan the Anti-Impaling Candidate," he said.
    My jaw dropped.  "What?  The guy who wants more impaling poles?"
    "Just a precaution," said Louie. "You can't be too careful.  We're at war, you know."
    "I like Ziggy," I said. "He's the only one who wants to do away with impaling.  And he wants to help us, not punish us."
    "Yeah, that sounds good," said Louie, "but Ziggy's unelectable."
    "What do you mean, 'unelectable?'" I asked.
    "No one will vote for him," said Louie.
    "Why not?" I pressed.
    "Because he's unelectable."  Louie looked at me as if I were a moron.
    "How about you, Kitty?" I asked, looking for support.
    "Zoltan the Anti-Impaling Candidate.  Definitely."
    "But why?" I asked.
    "Because he's the Anti-Impaling Candidate," she said.
    "But he's not really, you see," I said. "Didn't you hear him say he was going to continue the impalings?  Ziggy is the only candidate who actually said he would abolish impaling."
    "But Zoltan the Anti-Impaling Candidate is the Anti-Impaling Candidate," replied Kitty. "Ziggy is unelectable."
    "Why do you think he's unelectable?" I asked again.
    "Because no one will vote for him."  She said it slowly and with emphasis, as if to someone extremely slow-witted.
    
    I decided to hear what the really smart people who knew all about politics were saying.  And we really did have some smart people who knew all about politics.  You could tell because they were always saying so very loudly in public.  They didn't agree with my friends.  They all liked Radu the Beheader.  "Zoltan the Anti-Impaling Candidate is too liberal for the voters," they said. "They don't want someone who's soft on impaling.  What you need is a moderate like Radu.  If you vote for Zoltan the Anti-Impaling Candidate, all you're going to get is another four years of V."  
    But they did agree with Louie and Kitty on one thing:  Ziggy was unelectable.  They seldom mentioned Ziggy's name, but when they did, it was always with a dismissive laugh.  If anyone brought up the subject, the really smart people who knew all about politics would say, "Who did you say?  Ziggy the Unelectable?  Ha, ha, ha!  That guy is unelectable."  And if anyone said, "You know, Ziggy is the only one who is actually against impaling and for helping the people," they would say, "Ha, ha, ha!  He's unelectable."  And if anyone asked, "Why do you think he's unelectable?" they would say, "No one will vote for him.  You can't be elected without votes.  Du-uh!"
    In the end, I heeded the counsel of my friends and voted for Zoltan the Anti-Impaling Candidate.  We celebrated all night when he won.  V was out.

    "So, Louie," I ask, "could you explain to me again why Ziggy was unelectable?"
    There is no answer.  It looks like Louie has expired.   Kitty was gone an hour ago.  Lucky dog.  Actually, the pain gets sort of bearable after a while.  It goes from excruciating to merely gut-wrenching.  No.  I'm only fooling.  It's no better.  I look up and down the rows of bodies.  It appears there's one guy about two rows over and three poles down who still has some life in him.
    "If I ever get off this pole," I gasp, "I'm voting for Ziggy next time."
    The other guy shoots me an incredulous look.  "Are you kidding?" he says. "Ziggy's unelectable."