old new guestbook dland GLINT

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GLINT


I am not a political animal per se. However, now that the Good General has declared candidacy against the Good Doctor, I am all ears again to the mumbo jumbo of the masses, i.e. polling data. When the zeitgeist talks, I listen. The heat is on now, baby.

I tend to look at the humongous opportunity to vote every four years afforded us by the most magnificently flawed iteration of democracy to date as the chance to choose between the lesser of two evils. Be this as it may, every election season culminates in my standing admidst the lingering boiled broccoli and ketchup stink of the neighborhood elementary school cafeteria and pulling aside the weirdly formal curtain that is so mangy it looks like it might be a remnant (literally) of the Ford administration and yes, voting. Come to think of it, the Ford connection may be an alternate explanation for the ketchup aroma. Useless trivia aside, even though I participate in the great machinations of our electoral system, I would not call myself a true believer.

Nonetheless, when the choice emerges as the lesser of two evils with one being truly, egregiously, heinously, laughably e-v-i-l…well, then. The act of voting does approach something of a self-indulgent pleasure, still remaining, of course, a delusional, masturbatory exertion of personal power.

To recap, I am not a political animal per se. But if I were, I would be loath to take my place among the menagerie of political mascots available to date. We’ve got the elephant and we’ve got the donkey. Given the choices, I’d support a third party if only to introduce some decent symbolic representation into the mix. Sadly, the crappier party got the better animal. In fact, it’s almost ironic. The elephant is renown in the natural kingdom for its qualities of sensitivity and social responsibility. Their intricate and communal habits in rearing their young are phenomenal. ‘No Child Left Behind’ is not just lip service in the elephant community. Speaking of lip service, they possess powers of communication based on low-wave frequency absorption that rival the bat and the dolphin. An elephant will really listen to you—no “read my lips” bullshit there. And there is that regal quality to the elephant that is so attractive. They have a lumbering grace despite their ungainly stature. Not to mention Babar, Dumbo—the pathos churned up by the flapping of those ears. Golly. But the donkey? The donkey is a dork, a dweeb, a doofus. An ass. Sure, Eeyore’s ears have pathos to them too, but it is of the pathetic, poor-me variety. Ouch. Too close to home for the downtrodden Dems. Those ears droop like the hanging chads of yesteryear.

I actually went to a Howard Dean rally the other day and got your garden-variety stump speech out of it. Certainly nothing that convinced me he will deliver us from Dubya’s reign of terror in ’04. But I hold out with the hope that someone will do just that. I don’t really care who it is.


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