Rock the Vote

so long before they start to deteriorate. This brand new smartphone that you spent thousands of dollars on won't even turn on in a handful of years. And all those new clothes your team bought at the beginning of the school year probably won't even make it till Christmas. But buildings are different, or at least they're supposed to be. In nineteen fifteen Japan, a building was constructed that was meant to withstand the worst that nature had to offer.

It just didn't count on what man had in store. The Prefectural Commercial Exhibition or Product Exhibition Hall was designed by Czech architect Jan Letzel as the centerpiece of the city's business district. It was intended to be a place for companies to showcase and sell their products, as well as a venue for local art exhibitions. Letzel's design was different from the other structures in the area too. It was three stories tall and made a brick, stone and steel.

In the middle of it, a compered dome sat on top of a five story stairwell. It's unique asthetic was in stark contrast to the rest of the buildings in the area, making it a popular destination for locals and tourists alike. Thirty years after its completion, though, tragedy struck. The United States dropped a nuclear bomb on the middle of the city. The blast destroyed everything within a one mile radius. Homes, apartments, stores, and offices were reduced to rubble.

Nearly one fifty thousand people were killed between the explosion and the radiation that followed, but not the exhibition hall. Though the roof had burned away and the center of the building was decimated, its sturdy frame still remained intact. Even the dome's skeleton was still there, perched atop the center of the structure. It was the only thing to have survived the devastating bombing of Hiroshima soon after the war, The dome was set to be demolished as part of

the city's clean up efforts. However, it's remarkable condition amid the rest of the city's ruins made the decision to tear it down a difficult one. Some folks wanted to remove it, while others thought it made a perfect memorial for the bombing. The city decided to leave the exhibition hall alone and instead put a park around it. In nineteen sixty six, they voted to preserve what the locals had come to call the Genbakud Dome. Over the years

since then, very little has changed. When modifications are made, such as a minor upgrade to earthquake proof the dome, the look of the building is always left alone. It looks almost exactly as it did just after the dust

settled in. To further preserve the structure, the United Nations Cultural Organization UNESCO designated the dome a World Heritage Sites in n Today, the dome is part of a massive memorial complex meant to convey the scope and devastation of one of the worst moments in modern world history, the Hiroshima Peace Memorial. It's surrounding park and the other nearby monuments are stark reminders of the worst in human nature,

but they also represent something else. They stand for resilience and ingenuity, or struggle and fortitude in the face of adversity, and in the case of the dome itself, it's a reminder of that old cliche. They just don't make them like they used to. Elections have a tendency to bring out the worst in people, from smear campaigns and all outlies to voters yelling at each other from opposite sides.

Politics is, as they say, a circus. It's no wonder that many voters instead choose to stay home, refusing to participate in a process they feel is unfair or even corrupt, which is exactly what happened in San Paolo, Brazil in now At the time, the city was suffering. The sewers were in need of serious repairs. The prices of common goods had risen to astronomical heights at a food shortage had thrown everything into chaos, and understandably, people were upset.

They'd had enough, and with an election around the corner, they saw their opportunity to turn things around. There was just one problem. The candidates who had been running were all equally unappealing no one wanted to vote for them, and many of the three point five million citizens of the city sat out the election. But those who voted found an alternative. Her name was Kakaikoh. She was a last minute candidate who had no idea her name was

even on the ballot. After she was added, slogans in support of her were plastered all over town, and Brazilian voters became energized again. Finally they had a candidate they could believe in. Her campaign wasn't given much thought by the other candidates. Surely someone so new and inexperienced couldn't beat Brazil's political heavyweights in such an important race. And then on October eight, the votes were cast. One of the men running for city council earned a whopping ten

thousand votes, an impressive showing from his supporters. Kakariko, on the other hand, brought in a few more ninety thousand more. To be precise, you see, one hundred thousand citizens had cast their vote for Kakariko, a landslide that ended the campaigns of eleven opposition parties almost instantly. It was a surprising victory for a candidate who had been added as a protest vote against the five D forty other parties running. Naturally,

those other candidates were furious. They blamed their losses on a secret plan to undermine their campaigns. Could it have been foreign interest or a corrupt puppet master pulling the strings behind the scene. The answer, though, was far simpler. Local journalist its Abori Martins had grown sick of all the politicians talking out of both sides of their mouths. None of them seemed worthy of occupying a seat on

the city council. So rather than sit out the election entirely, Martin's suggested Kakareko on a whim and then a half hearted domination somehow took off. Unfortunately, Martin's scheme fell short. There was no way election officials would allow Kakareko to serve on the city council. For one thing, she was only four years old. For another, she was a rhinoceros. She had been on loan to the San Polo Zoo for three months and inspired a new sentiment among the people.

Better a rhinoceros than an ass, they said, and it started gaining steam with voters who looked at their options and wanted nothing to do with any of them. Cacaraco may not have ever gotten to serve on the city council, but her unwitting foray into politics did have one lasting effect. She spawned a political movement in Canada. Yes, thousands of miles to the north, a new political party was forming.

It was called the Rhinoceros Party of Canada and was established in nineteen sixty three as the spiritual successor to Brazil's Cacaiko. Their motto, A promise to keep none of our promises said it all. They were only there to disrupt the status quo, much like their Rhino pal down south. When they formed, they named Cornelius the First as their leader. Cornelius lived at the Grandy Zoo in Quebec and was

you guessed at another Rhinoceros. He held that position for almost thirty years, right up until the party was dissolved in Over the course of nine elections, the Rhinoceros Party didn't win a single seat in the House of Commons, but they stuck to their fairly simple platform, one that resonated with thousands of Canadians. Candidate Brian Gold, who ran for election back in described that platform as well as anyone might just two ft high he said, and made

of wood. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Manky in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.