Editors’ Note: The opinions and ideas expressed in The Accidental Gentrifist are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the outlook or beliefs of anyone else in the Ist network.

If you happened to grow up in a middle class household like mine, it was probably instilled in you to never talk about politics at work, in a bar, or at the dinner table. Which meant, let’s face it, you never really talked about politics. Since the only other place you went to was bed.

But two Mondays back I had a fine time writing about Barack Obama and his momentum-shifting win in South Carolina. There was some lively discussion, and many people managed to lodge their 2 cents in both the bilious comments section, as well as catching me unawares in the “real” world. Some people got their tempers up, others mounted their own soapboxes. The reaction was all rather amusing for me, since the column itself was pure exercise. You see, two weeks ago, I wasn’t even an Obama supporter. Two weeks ago, I was pretty sure I was going to vote Republican for the very first time. That’s right: Dr. Ron Paul.

It shouldn’t take more than 350 words to explain why I intended to vote Ron Paul for President, and roughly two words to explain why there’s now no chance in hell.

Sorry, America. I’ve never really been able to seriously entertain the notion that my vote matters. Primarily because my vote has always been a protest vote.

The reasons:

1. The two-party system is totally fucked.

2. The Electoral College is totally fucked.

3. The run-up to both the primaries and general elections is part self-effacing theatre (which I actually enjoy) and part strategic pandering (which I don’t). But I guess that’s just politics. The unsettling part, though, is that the system in place is simultaneously shadowed in semi-secrecy, yet when it’s cast in daylight, it’s revealed to be little more tactical than a deft game of Risk played by shrewd yet pocked-marked teenagers, who are, it should be noted, not shrewd enough to get dates or fabricate realistic fake i.d.s.

4. Little to nothing has ever been done to offset the fact that money still determines influence.

5. Electronic balloting (with hand counts in case of incongruity) was perfectly adequate, yet was without justification replaced by computerized voting machines, which are recognized to be grossly inaccurate. And that’s before they’re hacked into, which is a known vulnerability.

6. The poor standards of public education in America have resulted in a popular media that has far too much sway in terms of public opinion. Howard Dean (and his wife, the Ketchup lady) was perhaps the least offensive democratic candidate since… well, maybe ever. And since he had a decent shot at actually deposing Alfred E. Newman, he was dismantled, overnight, by a conservative and almost hermetically-sealed media machine that holds the Teflon-coated W. in high regard, if for no other reason than his entertainment value (and his complete anathema to inciting boring ol’ news stories like ceasefires and sustainable economies and gradually improving air quality).

7. Finally, I live in Texas. My liberal/libertarian/green/pink-o vote in national elections is tantamount to rifle fire against the Luftwaffe.

But why did I like Ron Paul specifically? Well, I love the constitution, I disdain globalism, I think the middle class is overtaxed, and I want to know a helluva lot more about what actually happened on September 11th.

There. 353 words. Almost made it. Ah, Dr. Paul—we could have had such fun! Alas, I suppose we should, by now, get to the Two Words that explain why my vote for Ron Paul won’t happen:

White Supremacy.

…As Christmas plans segued into a long-awaited vacation to New York, I somehow missed the full scope of a pretty interesting news item. Specifically, that Ron Paul accepted $500 dollars from Don Black, a former Grand Wizard of the KKK, an operator of this charming little website, and in a final, scintillating detail, he’s also the husband of David Duke’s ex-wife.

Now, I’m not a political strategist, but it occurs to me that there are two things a political candidate must never do. One is publicly take money from hate groups. The other is refuse to budge in the face of a quite understandable public outcry. I mean, shit. That’s the game, Man! You pay people to find out what America doesn’t like about you. If you can improve your image and still stay within your basic values set, you best change your mind like you’re changing your socks.

Not that Mr. Paul and his camp don’t have their justifications. You better bet they do. And have his supporters spoken up on his behalf? Certainly. Has he stuck to his guns? You bet. But does Dr. Paul really deserve credit for not wavering on this one? No, I don’t think so.

Since I’m no longer a Paul supporter, I have no issue in pointing out the sheer fallacy in continuing to support him:

It’s not so much that Paul didn’t waver after (perhaps unknowingly) accepting money from a very public racist. It’s that he didn’t waver over $500. For those with numeric dysplasia, that’s Five Hundred Dollars. That’s how much it cost for Ron Paul to risk losing many tens of thousands of votes (the loss being mollified, no doubt, by gaining the votes of thousands of people crouching in Bible-laden bomb shelters, oiling their guns in preparation for RaHoWa). Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s no longer about race. Ron Paul, whose candidacy was ultimately a much-needed statement against the status quo of many American political institutions, has sullied himself for a much, much smaller sub-statement: I’ll do whatever the hell I want.

In his most recent, post-Super Tuesday web post, Dr. Paul references Trotsky: “…this Revolution is permanent.” It’s a sporting spin on a concession speech. Ron Paul colors his success and groundswell of support as only the spark, the primary inertia of a movement that is beyond himself… and the millions of dollars people donated to his run on the White House. He’s also quick to add that he also has to campaign for his own congressional seat. So that he’s not, you know, unemployed come next year.

In reality, the unofficial concession transpired last December. Supporters of a presidential Ron Paul should have groaned but probably didn’t: Their man no longer wanted to win.

Did he spend every cent raised in his name? Beats me. But chances are if Don Black can’t have his nickel back, neither can you.