What's that smell?

As I made my way from the parking structure to my office building this morning, my nose was filled with a pungent aroma. Not floral, not petrochemical. Possibly animal, but also a bit like burning tires. I couldn't quite identify it, but I had the vague notion that in some culture it might be considered food.

Hrm, I thought. I wonder what boiled goat colon smells like.

That set the stage for my next RSM, which had to do with a conversation I had with one of our friends a couple weeks ago.

We'd been having an enjoyable after after-church dinner visit* when the converstion turned suddenly political. Or maybe not suddenly, but I generally make a point not to become involved in such discussions so it probably seemed that way to me, when I finally did.

My friend—we'll call him "Jim" to disguise the fact that his name is actually Bob—had just announced that he was thinking of voting for Carole Keeton Strayhorn, on account of how the current Texas governor, Rick Perry, was divisive, dishonest, and about as useful as dugs on a boar javelina. Strayhorn had promised to lower property taxes and improved Texas schools, which Jim feels are good things.

“We can fix our schools, cut property taxes, reign** in government spending, and crack down on criminals who abuse our children.”

-Carole Keeton Strayhorn

I agreed in principle but noted that I'd recently heard an interview with Strayhorn on a local talk radio station and that I came away rather underwhelmed. Sure, the things she promises to do are things that I'd like to see done, but when the host pressed her for details about how she intends to accomplish them, she fell back on impassioned rhetoric about how strongly she believes in all that's good for Texas and what a low-down skunk Gov. Perry is.

The arguable validity of this opinion aside, it doesn't tell me anything about how Strayhorn intends to make up the difference in school funding if she succeeds in lowering property taxes. And that's what I told Jim.

"Well, Perry isn't doing anything, so what choice is there? It's time to give someone else a chance," he said, the frustration showing in his voice. "I have to vote for Strayhorn."

I understood where he was coming from, of course. No one likes to feel like his vote is going to waste, so it's natural to feel like the choice comes down to the lesser of two or three evils. Jim's not alone in feeling this way.

"So you're just going to roll the dice, even though you may be electing a governor who's even less effectual than the current one?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"Fair enough."

I guess I'm just ornery this way, but if I don't like any of the candidates who actually have a chance of being elected, I go ahead and vote for the one I do like, if there is one. But that's neither here nor there, because I haven't even taken the time to learn if there's anyone besides Strayhorn and Perry running.

I'll tell you one thing, though. I think that there ought to be some sort of consequences to be faced by a politician who bases his/her campaign on promises to do or undo specific things. I was discussing this with Sweetie the other evening, and I think I have the answer.

If a candidate elected into office goes back on his/her campaign promises without making some sort of good faith effort, he/she ought to be compelled to appear as a contestant on Fear Factor.

Let 'em eat boiled goat colon, I say.


* You read that right. It's a three-course evening: dinner after church, and then onward to someone's house for a visit after the dinner. Or "after ((after church) dinner) visit", for my fellow code trolls and math weenies.

** A Freudian slip I find revealing. Maybe she meant rein—but maybe she didn't.


Now playing: Georg Philipp Telemann, Dinner Music Vol. I