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At least there is
no voting in
Disney World

THIS election year, Digital Slobs should be proud that so many of us tied our shoes, splashed our face with water, buttoned up a not-too-wrinkled shirt and joined Respectable People at the polls. Turnout nationwide swelled to 60 percent -- compared to 2000, a much more substantial, if noticeably less fresh-smelling, electorate.

Sure, 60 percent hardly sounds spectacular. That kind of number won't get you past 10th grade unless you can throw a perfect spiral 75 yards, but fortunately in the real world -- and especially on "The Apprentice" -- excellence is graded on a curve.

My own exit polling showed that among Slobs who got two hours off from work to vote on Nov. 2, and also had a direct line-of-sight from a Dunkin' Donuts to their polling station, turnout was a record 89 percent. That's right in line with our raw Dunkin' Donuts numbers every other day of the year (93 percent).

So, for good or ill, we went to the polls and set in motion an unstoppable chain of life-or-death events worldwide. What are we going to do now?

Let's go to Disney World!

Nothing can unravel post-election tension more than the Happiest Place on Earth. Disney World is filled with many, many thrills and very, very few ballot initiatives. Toon Town Mayor Mickey Mouse is, after all, a benevolent regional dictator who holds onto power with a perpetual iron fist that's rivaled only by Fidel Castro.

After going back to Disney World recently as an adult, I can say it has improved its attractions immensely since 1971, and I'm happy to report that Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum no longer trigger panic attacks when I pose with them for a picture.

Still, it's tough for Slobs to convince anyone over 40 inches tall to go down the rabbit hole of Disney Imagineering with them, and not just because the park is dead center in that hurricane-prone part of Florida, also known as Florida.

It's also infested with kids who have had all governors taken off their sugar addictions, racing around like giggling spider monkeys on their way up, and screaming as if their limbs are being pulled from their torsos on their way down. I saw one distraught 2-year-old strapped in a stroller give her entire apparatus a 4-inch vertical lift using only the air in her lungs for fuel.

I spoke with park personnel; it'd take a dozen of them 12-14 months to recreate that effect.

However, while Disney Magic requires at least some of the toddler black arts mixed in, crowds will be relatively dormant the rest of the year, except for the holidays -- periods when Slobs lock ourselves in our basements, anyway.

The park has also gone high-tech with PAL Mickey, a plush toy that wirelessly relays up-to-date event information and well-timed trivia as you walk around the park. And soon, visitors won't have to end the day waiting in the photo line, emptying wallets to buy all their Disney-made 5x7s. Instead, they'll be able to view them at home online, where they'll hopefully choose more wisely once blood returns to their brains and their feet deflate to normal size.

More than ever, Disney World can make your nonpolitical dreams come true, though at the end of a kid-filled day, Slobs will agree the one thing the park is missing is a Ye Olde Vasectomy Shoppe somewhere along Main Street USA.

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