CP editor Charlie Deitch’s list of the things he’d rather do than vote for Donald Trump

I would rather vote for George H.W. Bush, George W. Bush. Jeb Bush, Barbara Bush and Gavin Rossdale from the 1990s rock band Bush

Talking to friends the other day, I made the comment that I would rather do anything else in the world before I would vote for Donald Trump. Then I started thinking about it. Would I actually rather do anything else?

So I started naming things I would rather do than vote for Donald Trump. My only rule: I wouldn’t risk anyone else’s life. For example, if the Russian mob, or whatever the Russian equivalent to Navy Seals are, threatened to kill my neighbor if I didn’t vote for Trump so they could have an inept yes man to foreign powerbrokers in the White House, I would have to vote for Trump to save them; well, most of them. I figure if you’ve got a Trump sign in your yard, you’ve already got a death wish if you want him to have the nuclear codes.

So, here’s what I would rather do despite the danger and shame that could befall me:

Despite a nervous bladder, I would rather drink a gallon of water and walk through the Scarehouse.

I would rather put on a Ray Lewis Baltimore Ravens jersey and walk into Primanti Brothers at 1:30 p.m. on a Sunday and yell: “Crabs rule and Hines Ward was an overrated pass catcher and a sub-par ballroom dancer.”

I would rather vote for Luke Ravenstahl.
I would rather build a second tunnel under the Allegheny River to the North Shore.

I would rather not brake before I entered a tunnel.

I would rather drive on the Parkway North in the morning directly into the “sun glare” without sunglasses.

I would rather get a sandwich at a Wawa.

I would rather box Sammy Velasquez.

I would rather wrestle Kurt Angle and Bruno Sammartino at the same time.

I would rather steal a sandwich from the plate of former Steelers lineman Casey Hampton.

I would rather play first base for the Pirates knowing that I was destined to fail and be sent down to Indianapolis, and while I was there, I attend the Indianapolis 500 and there is an crash that sends a tire flying into the crowd, and I am hit in the face with that tire.

I would rather vote for Tom Cruise, Ted Cruz, Ted the bear from the Ted movies, Ted Lange, who was Isaac from The Love Boat, the guy who played Gopher on The Love Boat and probably just a regular gopher.

I would rather tell James Harrison that I think participation ribbons are a valid tool in providing small children with positive reinforcement and a sense of accomplishment.

I would rather tear down the beloved Richard Caliguiri statue.

I would rather vote for George H.W. Bush, George W. Bush. Jeb Bush, Barbara Bush and Gavin Rossdale from the 1990s rock band Bush.

I would rather run down the Incline tracks blindfolded.

I would rather slather my feet in bacon grease and then ride the top of the P1 bus like a surf board.

I would rather work on a Liberty Bridge welding crew.

I would rather … dear lord … vote for Tom Corbett.

I would rather go up on Mount Washington and not take a selfie.

I would rather go to the Dirty O and not order fries.

I would rather go back to college and get a degree in physics and mechanical and electrical engineering, and I would build a time machine. I would then trade a box of old pinball parts to the Libyans for plutonium to power the time machine. I would then take the time machine back to 1996 and convince Kevin McClatchy not to buy the Pittsburgh Pirates, thus allowing them to leave town.

I would rather invite Donald Trump to a locker room for some “locker room talk” and instead, make him listen to a six-hour seminar on anger management, what constitutes violence against women and respecting the personal space of others. Full disclosure: I also plan to lock him in one of the lockers and flush the key.

I would rather tell Bill Peduto that bike lanes “are for suckers.”

I would rather call John Fetterman “shrimpo” or “small fry” to his face.

I would rather find different Libyans, buy more plutonium, get back in my time machine and travel to 2005. I would then kidnap Mario Lemieux, disguise myself as Mario Lemieux and draft Bobby Ryan over Sidney Crosby.

I would rather vote for Ivana Trump, Ivanka Trump, the blond Trump son, what’s-his-name, the Trump whose mother is Marla Maples and Marla Maples. Also, I would vote for a bottle of maple syrup as long as it didn’t plan to build a wall to keep the other condiments out of the refrigerator and force grape jelly to pay for it.