the mr nice guy election roundup!
so now that, finally, all the votes have been counted (virginia, where you at? montana, holla) we have for you the mr nice guy election roundup, also known as Baby Nice Guy Rocks the Vote, Even Though She Doesn't Really Because She's Under Age and I Don't Want to Get Arrested For Election Fraud.
by 9 am i am ready for work and when the sitter arrives i announce that, if she doesn't mind, i am going to take the kid to the polling place to learn the importance of performing her civic duty, even if at her age it's more like civic doody.
let me tell you this -- i love new york city voting booths. i swear to yahweh, the machine i voted on was probably used to help elect martin van buren. ancient. clunky. beautiful. i step through the curtains with baby nice guy in my arms and she instantly starts crying. already, i foresee a full scholarship to Harvard's yon Kennedy School of Government -- she is so astute a political analyst that she already knows at a glance that the best alternative is to weep. these are the fuckers i am supposed to choose between? you mean my future is in one of their hands? it's like choosing between assrape and genital electrocution.
so after i calm her down i yank the giant red handle to the right. KACHUNK, says the machine. i make my votes by flipping those little black rubber nibs. it takes about .06 seconds. i pull the giant red handle back to the left. CHUNK-A-CHUNK, grunts the machine. and all my votes disappear; presumably they have been recorded. i don't know for sure. have you ever seen these machines? they certainly feel substantial. i've seen touch-screen voting booths and, frankly, they're a bit flimsy -- they just don't have the same solemn authority to them, the same i-led-the-amphibious-assault-on-Wonsan-in-Korea-back-in-1950 vibe. there is something a little unsettling about these solid monsters. i mean, i pull the handle, flip the nibs, and pull the handle back again ... and the machine looks exactly as it did when i approached it -- it's like voting on a massive etch-a-sketch. i feel like i made my little marks and then wiped them away. voting in that middle school gymnasium always ends up feeling vaguely ... anti-climactic.
that's ok, because there was climax enough by the end of the day. historic, wouldn't you say? even my daughter felt the enormity of events as they unfolded before her: i mean, at the entrance to the gym there was a bake sale! i bought her a slice of banana bread. she balked. instead, she reached up and grabbed one of the brownies off the plate. "hey! you stole that!" i said because i am the parent and that is what i assume is expected of me. "BAD BABY!" the bake sale lady made a face and said "oh, she can have it." my child guilefully stuffed her face: she had her cake and ate it too.
clearly, she has a knack for this politics business.
anyway. on to the music portion of our program: democrats, let me dedicate a little song to you. this is by the fabulous Impressions, though not showcasing the mighty curtis mayfield. this may well be the theme song for you dems this week, you who are enjoying a groove that must easily feel half as sweet as this. listen: Finally Got Myself Together.
and, you GOP'ers, i haven't forgotten you. i know you're hurting and i know it ain't easy on y'all. so let me just offer you this little slice of gut-level bayou R&B, something by the brilliant Allen Toussaint and performed by John Williams (though, odds are, not the same John Williams who wrote the Star Wars, Indiana Jones or Olympics themes, sadly). listen: Blues, Tears and Sorrow. "nothing but sad tomorrows," homies, believe that.