I have reached a point in this political year where I would rather sit in my automobile for an entire hour listening to that infernal little voice announce, “Your seat belt is not fastened,” than endure another political advertisement.

At least the seat belt warning has a legitimate complaint. I am, in fact, not buckled up.

It has identified a problem, stated its position, and offered a practical solution. I can respect that sort of journalism.

Political advertisements, on the other hand, appear to have been written by a committee of angry baboons who were locked in a telephone booth with a bottle of whiskey and a collection of newspaper clippings. Every candidate is either the savior of civilization or the reason civilization ought to be abandoned altogether.

One fellow promises to lower taxes, another promises to protect my freedoms, and a third assures me that his opponent was raised by wolves and once ate a small village. By the time the commercial ends, I am not sure who is running for office, but I am fairly certain somebody needs professional supervision.

I have considered removing my radio entirely, but then I would miss the weather, the news, and the occasional song that reminds me I was once young and foolish rather than merely foolish.

So let the seat belt alarm ring. I will listen patiently.

It may be irritating, but at least it isn’t asking for my vote, my money, or my immortal soul. And should it begin endorsing candidates, I shall buckle up immediately.