On Monday morning, I experienced a moment of clarity – a long moment of clarity. I was reading Fire Dog Lake.

I thought, I have voted Democratic all my life. I have been a campaign volunteer for local candidates every year since 2006. I have always followed current events closely. I am disillusioned by President Obama’s refusal to see the Republicans for who they are – bitter hateful people intent on destroying the country – not allies who just happen to have a different letter after their name.

I gave a good chunk of my money to Barack Obama in 2008. I will not vote for Obama again. In November 2012, when I step into that voting booth, if I see the name, Obama, on the ticket, for the first time in my life, I will vote for a write in candidate. If I can remember how to spell “Janet Rhodes”, then I will vote for Janet Rhodes for President of the United States.

This is when the long moment of clarity occurred.

I immediately called the White House switchboard.

I gave the White House volunteer my background info. And then I said, “I want Obama to resign, effective immediately.”

Since making that phone call, I’ve honed my voting strategy. I’ve been reading the comments at Pandagon, Alas A Blog and the Angry Black Lady. Several people have pointed out that it’s most effective to vote for whomever you truly believe in, whether it’s a third party candidate or writing someone in. No matter what I say, voting for Janet Rhodes would be interpreted as an endorsement of the moonbat, purity troll agenda. It would also reinforce the assumption that throwing a temper tantrum is an effective way to get what you want.

My husband also weighed in, asking me quizzically. “Who are you, and what have you done with the reasonable, pragmatic woman I married?”

But I don’t care. All that matters is my number one political goal: to show everyone that I am smarter and more liberal than they are.

When I step into that voting booth in November 2012, I will vote for someone who is not Barack Obama. When I experienced that moment of clarity, I realized that my vote is a weapon. And I intend to use it. I intend to use it for the forces of spite, cynicism, pettiness and acting like a toddler who has missed her afternoon nap. This is the America I was raised to believe in. One where people brandish their rights like firearms, or nuclear missiles, ready to send anyone who calls for dialogue, compassion or incremental change straight to hell.