COLUMN: Nothing says no to green like WASTE

After much soul searching and thought, I’ve decided it’s time for me to change political parties.

Yes, I’m surprised about it too, but being a Communist is just not fashionable these days. I don’t know if it’s all the talk of the proletariat that scares people or the clapping one another on the shoulder yelling “comrade,” or the whole sickle and hammer thing that creates panic, but being a Communist was way cooler before Ronald Reagan had to come in and mess everything up. Long live the wall, and by that I mean the Pink Floyd album. That was to throw off Sen. McCarthy.

But times have changed, and it’s time for me to look for a new party. The two obvious choices hold little thrill for me. When a party mascot is a jackass, what does it say about the party? And an elephant, are you kidding me? Who wants Dumbo for the mascot? The least the Republicans could do is pick a tougher Disney character, like Simba or Pinocchio. Come to think of it, politics in general should have Pinocchio as their mascot because then we’d know if they were lying, and with how long his nose would get, we could chop it down and have an excess of lumber so we wouldn’t have to chop down rainforests anymore.

Which leads me to the next party I considered, the Green Party. As near as I can tell, the mascot of this party is a woman burning a bra and smoking a joint while being tied to a tree. You’ve got to give those guys credit for being creative. Actually, the Green Party logo looks a lot like the BP logo, shocking for a group of ideologists who are convinced gasoline is an invention by Satan, or by Al Gore, depending on who you ask.

But as much as I like the look of the Green Party, I just can’t bring myself to be a part of it. Perhaps it’s because Ralph Nader’s losing streak is longer than the Patriot’s winning streak, or maybe it’s because I like being around people who wear deodorant. Or maybe it’s because of my enjoyable years in Boy Scouts chopping down trees to keep a fire the size of a large truck burning. My scout master was a bit intense.

Another problem I have with the Green Party is all this talk about footprints. I’m not entirely sure what they’re talking about, but it sounds to me like Bigfoot is after them, and I want no part of that. He’s understandably a bit mad after the Communist party chose the abominable snowman as their monster of choice instead of him.

But perhaps the biggest issue I have with the Green Party is its psychotic tactics. People tying themselves to trees, riding bicycles instead of walking, having dreadlocks without being a Rastafarian, dah! What’s this world coming to?

I knew I had to find a party that would stop this madness, but nobody would step up to the plate, except the dinner plate – greedy politicians. So my only option was to create my own party.

I thought of a name that would be really catchy.

Anti-Green Party. No, that sounded too much like a new product by Billy Mays as part of his cleaning line. I could just see the infomercial

In a voice loud enough to wake the dead: “If your child is active in sports or isn’t coordinated enough to stand up, then have I got a product for you. My name is Billy Mays, and you may have seen me in (lists a long line of infomercials that takes the next 10 minutes of air time and leaves you time to see if it’s possible to get a restraining order on a TV personality). My latest product, Anti-Green, can pull out grass stains, kill weeds, eliminate envy and get rid of those obnoxious hippies in your backyard (for Oregon and Northern California only). Order now and you’ll receive not one, but two Billy Mays bobblehead figurines.”

Since I need something to watch on Saturday afternoons, I decided against using Anti-Green. My next thought was the Purple Party, because purple is the complimentary, color of green. But then I knew I’d have to recruit Barney to be the mascot, and I don’t think Americans would take too kindly to having the national anthem replaced with a rousing rendition of “I love you, you love me.”

So then I thought of creating a party that’s an acronym. Everyone loves a good acronym, right? After much thought, it dawned on me I should call it the WASTE party: With Absolute Salacious Tyrannical Excess party.

The WASTE Party exists only to spite the Green Party. The platform is simple: Just ask yourself, “What would Nader do?” And then do the opposite. As such, there should be a WASTE Party candidate in office in 2008. Sorry Hillary.

The WASTE Party is all about driving Escalades and Navigators, becoming widely popular with hip-hop artists and wealthy Utah housewives. Recycling bins will be cut down from three to two, and Christmas trees will be displayed year-round with mandatory replacement twice a year. That should keep the tree huggers busy trying to rescue all those trees.

The only downside to the WASTE Party is it won’t be allowed in Oregon, the center of all tree-hugging activity. This is fine with me though, because the first thing the WASTE Party will do is try to sell Oregon off to Canada, preferably the French-speaking part. Come on, what’s more un-American than denying people the right to pump their own gas?

Yep, the WASTE Party is well on its way to success and glory, but there is still one roadblock: We don’t have a good candidate for the presidency. I don’t think Bono or Jared Diamond will be on board with this, but I have a feeling Al Gore would do it if we gave him another SUV and paid for his excessive housing costs.

Seth Hawkins is a senior majoring in public relations. He fears the Ents will one day attack the WASTE party and trap him in Isengard. Questions or comments can be sent to him at seth.h@aggiemail.usu.edu