What a Vice President Does (The less, the better.)

The Vice President is just there to serve as a backup in case the presidential disk crashes. There is also the rarely required tie-breaking vote in the Senate. NOTHING ELSE.

Voters hope that if a VP assumes the presidency, ongoing administration policies will be continued, but the new guy has no obligation to do so. Ideally, a running mate is chosen based on sharing the philosophies of the main candidate.

All of this adviser, lobbyist, little helper, ghetto enforcer, brains behind the machine, surrey-with-the-fringe-on-top window-dressing is not why we have one. Although a VP can come in handy to represent the U.S. at foreign funerals, or to toss out the first baseball of the season.

A conscientious VP would spend time every day reading the congressional record, the newspapers, twitter, and anything the president sends over.

The idea is to stay informed, to be ready if called upon.

Vote Like a Pirate

Aye, the tide is turning me fine lasses and laddies. Election day draws nigh and soon we'll be having a hack and slash sword fight with the scurvy varlets of that bilious Brigantine known as the S.S. Diebold as they divide up the resultin' booty. A call rings out across deck-plank and dock, 'All ashore that's goin' ashore!" Unabashed Republicans the likes o' Colin Powell and Representative Jim Leach have let it be known to one and all that a McCain presidency is a calamity up with which they will not be puttin'. Television talking heads such as Katie Couric and David Letterman find it impossible to interview an R candidate without lapsin' into eyerollin' and into lip curlin' sneers. Chris Matthews expressed his disgust that McPain has no idea what the constitution is tellin' us about what a vice president does, and R speechwriter David Frum says that while he may still vote for his lily-livered passel of lamers, he washes his hands of the ham-handed hodgepodge they've been after foistin' upon the American people.

These hard-core henchmen of the establishment are like rats leavin' a sinkin' ship. Conversly, they are like new-signed landlubbers anxious to get their sea-legs under 'em as the ship of State casts off for new waters. Middle of the roaders hate to be left stradling a gangplank as it folds up for four years of hold storage.

So pack yer hardtack and put on yer Sou'Wester. It's time to fish or cut bait.