How Dare these Dudes Hold Rotaract Elections Without Me
Rotaract Undersecretary General
OK, I’m not the brightest tool in the drawer, nor the smartest dude in the drawer either, but man, if there’s something I don’t like, it’s people drunk on their own power. I don’t even mind being the not-drunk one. People say funny shit when they’re drunk, and sometimes the women want to go titty on your caca. But when it’s power they’re drunk on, that’s when Brandon’s mindbuzz gets harshed. Figuratively, dude.
So imagine my surprise when I returned from a refreshing Carnival cruise in the Bahamas with Joel and his gay dad to find that Rotaract - a club of which I am under secretary general had held their 2008 elections without me?
Dudes and dudettes of Rotaract, do the concepts of a liberal democracy mean nothing to you? Don’t you remember what happened to Abraham Lincoln, or to all those disenfranchised blacks in Florida in 2005? They got swept up in a tornado or lost their homes to the Louisiana Purchase, or something like that. God, my memory is shot.
There are only eight people that have made it as far as the upper echelons of Rotaract, and yours truly is one of them. I got to be UnderSecGen through patience, diligence, and because I’m the Rotaract president’s hook-up when he needs to get his girlfriend stoned so she’ll like sex more. Without me, Rotaract is without its anchor.
Any person missing from the vote is like missing 13% of your balls and still saying you shoot a full load.
We all know this is a kangaroo election, so allow me to start up the Facebook group: “Anthony Bourdain is not my Rotaract president”. Membership: one. Undersecretary General? Brandon T. Gudger.
P.S. Anyone else wanting to be an officer, feel free to email me at brandon.gudger@gmail.com.
I remember when I joined Rotaract because of the glamour of their booth at Fes- tifall in my freshman year. They were the only ones that could offer me a refuge for my love of selflessness and altruism, and I think they had free Little Caesar’s too, which is the bomb pizza, as anyone worth his shit knows. We used to have it all the time at our birthday parties when we were kids, and it always got the smell of tree off your breath when middle school rolled around.
I read Rotaract’s newsletter every week just as it would arrive Wednesday night, right before Meerkat Manor would come on, after packing a bowl with Joel and putting on animal bloopers in the background. Good times we had, reading about all the service projects and youth committees that were going on without any particular effort from us. All I know is, we bowled with a lot of senior citizens.
Oh, and my manager at Liberty Street Video really thought it was something that I was in Rotaract, so I guess it I have it to thank for all those free porn rentals.
I’ll never forget the only email I’ve ever received from a member of Rotaract. It said, “We respectfully decline your request to be considered Rotaract Undersecretary General. Not only are we unfamiliar with you personally, but such a position does not exist on our staff. We have referred your inquiry to our superiors at Rotary.org.”
Finally, I was somebody, dude.
I hadn’t felt that since of belonging since Joel and I went with his gay dad to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Now, all that has come before is lost. An election has occurred without its reigning undersecretary general. A tyranny has reared its ugly head. A hero must now act, dude.
Unless they let me keep my UnderSecGen position. Did anyone else even run against me?
Cough.
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