While watching the entire health care debate and vote unfold on television, I came to a devastating conclusion: I could never be a politician.
This may have already been obvious to some of you, based on the fact that I really don’t like people. Although there’s an easy argument to be made that most politicians only care about themselves anyway.
No, aside from all the uncontrolled drinking episodes, blatant womanizing, exotic animal smuggling and general need to swear constantly, the one true thing holding me back is my inability to shave more than once a week.
I watch these smooth-faced gentlemen prattle on about insurance exchanges and pre-existing conditions. Their cheeks glimmer as they engage in lengthy conversations on Medicare coverage and tax burdens. Never once do you see a mangy chin or sparsely tufted sideburn. These men partake in immaculate shaving regimens.
Me? If I shave more than once a week, I inevitably end up either carving my face to shreds or waking up the next morning with painful ingrown hairs all around my mouth and neck.
No one is going to take a politican seriously if he looks like a homeless guy dressed up for a job interview. I’m doomed to low-key jobs that involve spending great deals of time by myself.
Damn you, whiskers. I could’ve made a difference.
