An Undecided Voter to His Friend, October 1960

It’s so hard to choose based on the issues. Who has the nicer wife?

Dear Bill,

I know, you’re on my case about this Nixon guy. He seems like a pretty nice fellow. I know you said he was Vice President, but I don’t know what that has to do with being President. Aren’t vices bad? I think the Reverend said something about vices in his sermon Sunday. I don’t know how to judge that one.

Plus, I kind of like this Kennedy fellow. He has such a nice head of hair! Plus, his accent is so cool! I guess I don’t really like some of the things about him. His dad was a bootlegger? Did the president of vices get him?

At the end of the day, it’s going to come down to the issues: who has the nicer wife, who has the cuter family, who looks like presidents in the movies, etc. These are the things that decide elections. I should know. I voted in one once. ’52 I think? Who can remember?

Also, you forgot to say: which one is the Democrat and which one is the Republican? That matters too!




Letter historians, like other analysts of history, have continually been astounded and disgusted by the a certain breed: the undecided voter. Despite weeks, months and even years of information being provided to the public about presidential candidates, undecided voters are unable to deduce which candidate is better, even when one of those candidates has, say, strapped his dog to the roof of the car and said that he doesn’t care about poor people.

Whether they are truly confused or just pretending to be to get attention from the candidate they like the best, they are truly a pathetic bunch. And the most horrifying of them all is the undecided swing state voter, who toys with the emotions of the country, polling first one way, then another, all because they can’t make up their damn minds!

Martin’s granddaughter tells us he ended up closing his eyes in the voting booth, sticking out his finger, and going with whichever candidate his finger was closest to. It ended up being closest to where he had written his own name, and he duly submitted a write-in vote for himself. He won, and was actually not a half-bad prezzy.


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