elections

As a country, we appear to have learned absolutely nothing from the débâcle that was the 2000 presidential election. As a group of friends, we have learned something. Never again will any of us be naïve enough to say the following:

“You know, we should just drink until the election’s decided.”

It had, after all, been Kat’s 21st birthday, and this wackiness in Florida had been getting funnier by the daiquiri, and by mid-evening we were plenty toasty and the election showed no sign of making a graceful stage-right exit from our televisions.

Eventually we got everyone sober enough to go home, and we watched with horror as we realized that if we’d stuck to our guns, we would have gone on a month-long bender of historic proportions.

Fast-forward four years.

On this Election Day I come to you out of sorrow, fear, and this growing urge to register nothing but a protest vote. Geof has reminded me that I can choose to not vote on whichever races I don’t feel are worthy of my vote, and suddenly my ballot begins to take on worlds of new sarcastic meaning.

Dear Friends,

On this Election Day I come to you out of sorrow, fear, and this growing urge to register nothing but a protest vote. Geof has reminded me that I can choose to not vote on whichever races I don’t feel are worthy of my vote, and suddenly my ballot begins to take on worlds of new sarcastic meaning.