I have been traveling around for the last few weeks—spending a few days in New York City, a few in Boston, and now a few more on Cape Cod.  I had originally been hoping to take more of an adventurous sightseeing trip to distant lands, but I gradually became aware that such trips cost money.  Thus my plans gradually shifted until they had transformed into a tour of my old northeast haunts—staying with friends and family—which afforded me free housing, free entertainment, and lots of free time while everyone else was off working.  This trip has been an exciting journey of self-discovery, sleeping late, and rampant boozing and seafood.  Yesss.

 

            It has also politically activated me.  I had almost managed to forget my tendency to become fiercely invested in politics for the three months or so leading up to every presidential election, like the shameless bandwagon boarder I am.  For most of the time, my interest in politics lies dormant, like a robot in sleep mode.  But in late August of every election year, catching five minutes of ‘Meet the Press’ one morning triggers my “POLITICALLY CONCERNED” mode and I leap frantically into action; whirling around uselessly and emitting shrill beeps—like C3PO, but with a more tenuous grasp of the issues.

 

            Because of the infrequency of this brief mode, it is not my most well-informed and shining mode.  All I want to do is talk about the upcoming presidential election—and I am eager to share with everyone the strong opinions I have on the candidates and issues after careful perusal of half an issue of Newsweek I read in the doctor’s office. 

 

“How old do you have to be to vote again?”  I will splutter, after giving a heated speech about how I think Joe Biden’s wife is pretty.  “What the hell kind of a name is ‘Trig’?  If I am not living in the state I grew up in, can I still vote there?  And where is the Electoral College?”  I spend my evenings watching CNN with fervent concentration, even though for all I understand, I may as well be watching Telemundo.  At least Telemundo has better outfits, and more believable pregnancies. 

 

“If the Democrats win this election, do I have to give back my $600 check?  Because they can forget it.  I already spent it.”  It’s a wonder that I am not smacked upside the head, or at least sequestered in a closet until Nov. 4th—with an absentee ballot shoved under the door for me in October. 

Last year I planned and hosted an event during the presidential debate that was called “Drink Beer and Eat Cupcakes and Watch the Presidential Debate”.  I don’t really recall much about this issues that were discussed, but the cupcakes were delicious.  Actually, I do remember noticing that during the course of the debate, Kerry drank his water out of a fancy stemmed goblet, while Bush used a good-old-boys type lowball glass.  I realized at that moment the election was over.  Possibly I am a little more politically prescient than I thought.

 

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