A History of Myself, By Me Part 3: How I am Personally Responsible for the Creation of Democracy

As a very humble person, probably the humblest of the humble (I make Ghandi look like Tom Cruise), I have often quarreled with myself over whether I should or should not admit the obvious. I have come to the conclusion that, after over 2500 years, it is time that the world knows the truth:

I, Pokey, invented Democracy.

There, I said it. I feel much better now. Like a weight has been lifted off my chest. No, wait, that was just my cat getting up from the nap she decided to take on my torso. At the least, admission is step one in the process of recovery. So how did it happen that I brought forth the one and only true form of government? (Sorry all you Dictators, Socialists, Communists, and Monarchs out there. You suck and you Dictators suck about 10,000 times more than the others. And Prince William is balding prematurely. So there.)

Well, here is how:

I was playing outside one day when I was seven. My brothers and sister weren’t around for some reason so I was attempting to play four-square on my own. Note to all: It doesn’t work. Anyways, so this old man pulls up next to me and says he has candy and puppies in his car.

The guy looked like the love child of Einstein and Della Reese, but had a friendly enough face. Of course, my parents had told me to never, ever get into a stranger’s car without first asking the secret code word we’d developed (Napolean – not Bonaparte, but rather a large shaggy mutt we’d inherited from my grandmother), but I’d had a hard day and needed a Snickers. So I climbed into his car. Before I knew what hit me, he plugged the year 508 BC into some machine on the center console and sped off at speeds that would have him taking the Pole at the Indy 500.

The next thing I knew, we were somewhere I’d never been, surrounded by men wearing bed sheets in the style of the Toga. Not normal for 1988, unless you lived in a Fraternity House.

“Welcome to Greece, don’t drink the water,” the man said.

I was talking with Cleisthenes one day. I’d been in Athens about 16 minutes by then. And he was expressing his desire to revamp the Athenian Constitution following the downfall of Isagoras and to establish a new form of government that would allow more people to participate in the decision-making process and to provide a platform for the development of competing media interests. I thought about it for awhile and realized that America in the future had such a form of government! Not only that, but we also had fast-food and an obesity epidemic. I figured that was exactly what Clei – as I called him – was getting at.

I suggested that he establish such a form of government in Athens because it was much better than anything else and, plus, the losers in each election could be fed to lions. (I added that because it seemed more exciting than a conciliatory speech). He loved the idea.

When it came time to name this new form of government, he originally wanted to call it “Cleimocracy.” I told him that sounded a little too egocentric and suggested “Democracy” instead.

Some people claim that the word is derived from the Greek word “dēmokratía,” meaning “rule of the people.” However, that is a misconception. It is really a product of my own mind and stems from my desire to make it exceedingly clear that all other forms of government are ridiculous. So, “Them other forms are crazy” was shortened to “Dem others crazy”, which was then shortened to “Democracy.” It’s a historical fact.

Thus, Cleisthenes eventually became known has the Father of Democracy while I got a swizzle stick and a pat on the head for my efforts. This goes to show that, no matter what, the people in power will get all the credit even though it is always the underlings who do all the work. I'm not bitter - much.

After Clei and I had worked out the logistics, the old man who had brought me there ran at me in a frenzy. He was holding two jugs of wine as he was being chased by shopkeepers yelling “STOP, THIEF!”

“Pokey!” he called out, “It’s time to go back to the future!”

As we jumped back into the car, I shouted one last word of warning to Clei, “Beware of the Ides of March! Oh, and don’t hire young female interns named Monica!”

As we arrived, safely, back in 1988, the old man dropped me off in front of my house. He warned me never to speak of this to anyone. I promised I would never tell a soul.

I guess I lied.

And now you know the rest of the story.

-Pokey