If you're too pissed at The Man and his Mens and Womens to vote, TBogg has a little story for you:
Every year in Happy Gumdrop Fairy-Tale Land all of the sprites and elves and woodland creatures gather together to pick the Rainbow Sunshine Queen. Everyone is there: the Lollipop Guild, the Star-Twinkle Toddlers, the Sparkly Unicorns, the Cookie Baking Apple-cheeked Grandmothers, the Fluffy Bunny Bund, the Rumbly-Tumbly Pupperoos, the Snowflake Princesses, the Baby Duckies All-In-A-Row, the Laughing Babies, and the Dykes on Bikes. They have a big picnic with cupcakes and gumdrops and pudding pops, stopping only to cast their votes by throwing Magic Wishing Rocks into the Well of Laughter, Comity, and Good Intentions. Afterward they spend the rest of the night dancing and singing and waving glow sticks until dawn when they tumble sleepy-eyed into beds made of the purest and whitest goose down where they dream of angels and clouds of spun sugar.
You don’t live there.
Grow the fuck up.
TBogg, who has his ups and downs, originally wrote that in response to some moron Naderite. It's wonderful how the very best things stay current.
The very best thing about this day, win or lose, is that we can be fucking done with this, and Commies and anarchists and fucking hippie rage junkies and white middle class pussies (love to BFF) can get back to hating curbstompers, while they amp up their hatred of us.
Update: BFF and I had our words yesterday in private, and it was funny (or so I thought) and it was closure. The above gun wasn't pointed at him. But it's not unreasonable that he felt smugged at, and I apologize. To him and him alone.
If you're not voting for some sophist reasons related to class struggle, fuck you. If you're not voting because you think there's some value in letting curbstompers be elected to teach Democrats a lesson, fuck you. If you're not voting because you're an anarchist, you're too fucking stupid for me to waste my time on. If you think that The Kind will win over curbstompers, you're not only too fucking stupid for me to waste my time on, you should go line up at the nearest House O' Curbstomping for your turn.
The man can speak for himself, but I think that BFF is apathetic (yes, it's a disease). He's disillusioned. He's feeling burned. All fair. He's responding to it differently than I do. He responds differently to a lot of things than I do. There's nothing wrong with any of that. Disagreement does not equal disenchantment. He's the creative one, I'm the dickhead realist. It's thrived for quite some time--as long as it's been since we settled into those spaces. It will continue to do so.
However: he had every reason to read the above this morning and think I was being a dick. For being less than cognizant of that, I was. And explanatory snorffle aside, I apologize.
Also, and independently: I Remember (via BFF's dynamic bloggy links).