"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.
]]>"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.
Tomorrow night at Stephen and Misty's, we'll commemorate the probable beginning of the recount with geek-style socialization. The locals are expected to bring the following:
I wish I could sit here in my chair, reflect on thoughts of the gathering, and say that we're going to be celebrating. The truth is that even though we'll have people in attendance who will have voted for Bush, Kerry, and Nader, none of us will be celebrating anything but our own cynicism. We've made jokes about bringing Canadian booze and giving bonus points to anyone who can sing the Canadian national anthem in French while swilling Canadian booze and standing up straight in hockey skates.
Tomorrow, in the race that my husband has started describing as "the wrong choice versus the stupid choice," I'll cast my vote for John Kerry even though, in the end, I know that vote is meaningless. Bush will carry Alabama, and carry it decisively, and nothing short of a signed videotape showing Bush personally burning down a church full of disabled war veterans holding cute fluffy bunnies will change that.
Take away the bunnies, and Alabama will still go for Bush. Now that's conservatism.
Still, you gotta vote your conscience. (You in the back who just asked, "She has one?" I heard that, you little pest.)
If I'm lucky, when I feed my ballot into the machine tomorrow morning, a little light will go on and little elves will start tapdancing and chanting "Liberal! Liberal!" just so the other suburbia-dwellers will know that their haven has been infiltrated.
Either way, I think I need to pick up some booze for tomorrow night. I have a feeling it's going to be a long, long night.
]]>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.
I've given most of the Alabama races approximately 0.25 seconds of conscious thought (the 6.5 seconds of unconscious thought, by law, do not count this year) and have come to the conclusion that absolutely none of them matter a damn to me. Most of them are thoroughly unoriginal. Issues like… capital-city bloat. Making sure Jenny and Johnnie Doe get their state-funded educations without actually requiring their parents to pay taxes. Lotteries. State constitutions. Zoning laws. All the nonexistent tax money for OUR district and none for anyone else!
I've got three words for you: blah, blah, blah. (Second place went to "who frickin' cares," - must've been that pesky protest vote showing up again)
I want to know about real issues. The ones that really matter, not this money/taxation/education crap.
I want to know which of the candidates supports my constitutionally-guaranteed right to eat babies.
Not only that, I want to sleep well tonight knowing that the representative I vote for will uphold Alabama's constitutional ban on the import and sale of cantaloupe.
Why cantaloupe? Cantaloupe are nasty, evil, dastardly fruits. They must be stopped! I cannot understand why people continue to prattle on about such unimportant crap as education and taxes when the very root of all evil can be found in every grocery store in northeast Alabama! How are we supposed to protect our beautiful, innocent*, God-fearing† children from the vile, corrupting evil that is cantaloupe?
The fact that the politicians gunning‡ for my vote are obsessed with such minutiae depresses me greatly. Consider the vast sea of four-color, full-bleed flyers I have had to rescue my actual mail from during the past two weeks:
However, in the grand Bush tradition of leaving no children, adults, pets, or idiot slogans behind, I present what is, quite possibly, the dumbest and most irritating ad I've received in my mail this year. This was the ad that got me started saving the ads for today's rant.
I present to you a letter written by Mrs. Sandra Fargerson. "Hand-written," in the best tradition of "hand-written" postscripts on Publishers' Clearing House sweepstakes entries. You may see the letter in its entirety here: page 1 page 2
In the interest of responding in kind, I present my response.
You will now have to excuse me. It's time for me to go vote. Must remember to put my steel-toeds on first. It's awful deep out there.
* Innocence guaranteed until onset of public-school sex education. After that, the little heathens are on their own.]]>
† Fear™ to be made mandatory when the new Alabama constitution takes effect.
‡ Void and prohibited if you are not allowed to own or carry a gun. (this prohibition no longer legal in Alabama as of 1885)
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.
I've given most of the Alabama races approximately 0.25 seconds of conscious thought (the 6.5 seconds of unconscious thought, by law, do not count this year) and have come to the conclusion that absolutely none of them matter a damn to me. Most of them are thoroughly unoriginal. Issues like… capital-city bloat. Making sure Jenny and Johnnie Doe get their state-funded educations without actually requiring their parents to pay taxes. Lotteries. State constitutions. Zoning laws. All the nonexistent tax money for OUR district and none for anyone else!
I've got three words for you: blah, blah, blah. (Second place went to "who frickin' cares," - must've been that pesky protest vote showing up again)
I want to know about real issues. The ones that really matter, not this money/taxation/education crap.
I want to know which of the candidates supports my constitutionally-guaranteed right to eat babies.
Not only that, I want to sleep well tonight knowing that the representative I vote for will uphold Alabama's constitutional ban on the import and sale of cantaloupe.
Why cantaloupe? Cantaloupe are nasty, evil, dastardly fruits. They must be stopped! I cannot understand why people continue to prattle on about such unimportant crap as education and taxes when the very root of all evil can be found in every grocery store in northeast Alabama! How are we supposed to protect our beautiful, innocent*, God-fearing† children from the vile, corrupting evil that is cantaloupe?
The fact that the politicians gunning‡ for my vote are obsessed with such minutiae depresses me greatly. Consider the vast sea of four-color, full-bleed flyers I have had to rescue my actual mail from during the past two weeks:
However, in the grand Bush tradition of leaving no children, adults, pets, or idiot slogans behind, I present what is, quite possibly, the dumbest and most irritating ad I've received in my mail this year. This was the ad that got me started saving the ads for today's rant.
I present to you a letter written by Mrs. Sandra Fargerson. "Hand-written," in the best tradition of "hand-written" postscripts on Publishers' Clearing House sweepstakes entries. You may see the letter in its entirety here: page 1 page 2
In the interest of responding in kind, I present my response.
You will now have to excuse me. It's time for me to go vote. Must remember to put my steel-toeds on first. It's awful deep out there.
* Innocence guaranteed until onset of public-school sex education. After that, the little heathens are on their own.]]>
† Fear™ to be made mandatory when the new Alabama constitution takes effect.
‡ Void and prohibited if you are not allowed to own or carry a gun. (this prohibition no longer legal in Alabama as of 1885)