I'm told this election is KABOOM! I don't know if it is, but as someone who used to think every election is KABOOM! this election isn't KABOOM! to me. I haven't donated a penny. All this talk about me voting or not, I used to give money to the DNC, they don't need my fucking vote, they don't even need my money though they want it. Rahm Emanuel calls me a fucking idiot? Obama dismisses my concerns as childish and unrealistic. Corporate, Democratic Division, doesn't send these messages accidentally.
I will literally cross that street and vote today Yes on Question A and for the apple ballot for BoE at the request of loved ones. I will not be holding my nose, though having that motherfucking insufferable assclown TBogg quoted at me as goad almost makes me not vote. Still, this election cycle I'm neither kaboom or anti-kaboom, I'm just no-kaboom.
Last Friday the drivetime hosts warned to not get carried away if the Skins went into the bye 5-3, if they'd been 3-5, after last season? we'd have signed up for that and then yesterday, gleeful KABLOOEY! the world is ending! and there will be another election in two years with daily media KABOOMS! every other day until Corporate, Democratic Division, still thinking me a fucking retard and leftist loon, decides they again need my money and vote and make me promises they've no intention of keeping, and I'll forget all the KABOOMS! but remember I'm a fucking retard. I may never get to anti-kaboom. I'll be happy to stay no-kaboom.
The perfect voter has a smile but no eyes, maybe not even a nose or hair on his or her toes, maybe not even a single sperm cell, ovum, little paramecium. Politics is a slug copulating in a Poughkeepsie garden. Politics is a grain of rice stuck in the mouth of a king. I voted for a clump of cells, anything to believe in, true as rain, sure as red wheat. I carried my ballots around like smokes, pondered big questions, resources and need, stars and planets, prehistoric languages. I sat on Alice's mushroom in Central Park, smoked longingly in the direction of the mayor's mansion. Someday I won't politic anymore, my big heart will stop loving America and I'll leave her as easy as a marriage, splitting our assets, hoping to get the advantage before the other side yells: Wow! America, Vespucci's first name and home of free and brave, Te amo.