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We know how much you’re looking forward to tomorrow. Maybe it’s because you can’t wait to get your free ice cream cone at Ben and Jerry’s, or your free cup of coffee at Starbucks, or your free doughnut at Krispy Kreme. Maybe because you’ve never voted before, and you can’t wait to be de-virginized. Maybe you really, really, really want an “I Voted” sticker (they’re damn cool). Maybe because you want to be able to watch TV without hearing the words “Bradley effect.” Maybe because you’re tired of Sarah Palin, or Keith Olbermann talking about Sarah Palin, or us talking about unfunny stuff like lynching images, the importance of civil rights, and usage of the word “gook.”
Listen, we want tomorrow to happen more than anybody. We want nothing more than to see an end to our election-anxiety-induced insomnia. I want to have a social life again. I’m sure Jen wants me to stop trying to re-register her to vote, even though she’s been registered 4eva and hasn’t moved AND the deadline in California passed long ago (Hey, you can’t register too many times, right?). We want to spend our evenings playing Guitar Hero 4 (it’s dope), not stressing about constituents. We want to start working on our Inauguration Day outfits! We BOTH want to write about things like pandas, and Bai Ling, parties, low-rider Acuras–things that do matter, but don’t feel as fucking life-and-death as everything seems (and is) in the 2008 election.
We are all different. We land differently on the issues, on the candidates, on this whole godforsaken country (and whether or not it’s UnAmerican and/or “godless” to say that). But where we should all be the same is our willingness to take the time out, to think beyond ourselves, and vote.
If you haven’t voted already, please vote tomorrow. We don’t care who you vote for (that’s a bit of a lie–yes we do), or why you vote, or what you do before and after. But we do care that you vote. We live in a country where voting–a privilege, on many levels–is our right. Our choice. And if we choose to be selfish, ignorant, lazy, or apathetic enough to ignore that right, we are a disgrace to ourselves and our country’s ambitious stab at democracy.
Tomorrow, if you’re waiting in a long line and you’re pissed about it, or if you’re angry at the system because our election process is so fucked (it is), or if you’re stuck on the fact that you hate government and don’t want to play into their silly/bureaucratic/two-party/The-Man-Makes-the-Rules game, please vote anyway. Please think outside of yourself and remember that there are a lot of other people in this country that don’t have the luxury to sit back and watch this country burn. They have lives and families and homes (hopefully) and jobs, and sicknesses, and retirement funds, and stakes–REAL STAKES–that will be directly affected by this election.
We are taking tomorrow off in honor of Election Day (which should be a day off for everyone, anyway), so as not to provide you with any distractions.
Please take the time. Vote. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE.
Barack Obama’s grandmother, Madelyn Dunham, has passed away from cancer, Obama and his sister, Maya Soetoro-Ng, said in a statement today. We wish she could have hung on one more day. But maybe she knew on some level that it was okay to go now, because there were so many good things in store.
I’ve spent a lot of my adult life defending the state of Texas, where I’m from (as opposed to where I’m “from-from”), especially during the last eight years with W. in office. I usually begin with the refrain, “There are good people there,” before espousing the virtues of the things from home that I still hold dear: big sky, late afternoon thunderstorms that rattle the house and offer a thrilling, momentary reprieve from the summer heat, Tex-Mex, barbeque, and chicken fried steak, not necessarily in that order, the saying of please, thank you, and yes ma’am, football season, the wildflowers that spring up alongside the road, those days spent doing nothing besides drinking iced tea and sitting in the shade, which, in the middle of July, feels something like receiving the universe’s only tender mercy.
I’m not completely sentimental about where I grew up, however, and I also know that that big sky is now choked with the country’s worst pollution, the humid Texas heat is only being made more intolerable and dangerous in every respect by global warming, some of the same people who say please and thank you religiously also believe gays are going to hell (or that there is a hell, for that matter), places where large groups of people gather like football games are often the same places where drunk, hateful idiots feel emboldened enough to openly call someone a gook, spic, nigger, or fag, and there are parts of the state where you still get the feeling that people would like to kill you simply because you look different.
But I don’t want to think that is a significant portion of the population. I know–I’m in a certain amount of denial. But I’m already drowning in my own cynicism on a daily basis, this election has put me and everybody else in an Us vs. Them frame of mind, my parents live in Texas and they are adorable, and it’s too easy to blame certain parts of the country, like Texas, or the South, or the Middle, for all of America’s shameful, small-minded, stupid behavior.
So it was with great dismay that I learned this week that, according to a UT poll, 23% of Texas voters believe Obama is a Muslim. (It goes without saying that I, like so many other people, am first and foremost dumbfounded that “Muslim” has become a slur in this election, but so it has.) A Forbes writer spun this incredible number as less of a mark of ignorance than of the limited way in which polls can be interpreted.
There’s another possibility: McCain supporters using badly conceived polls as political weapons. If you ask people in a hardcore McCain state, a good number of them will says “Yes, Obama is a Muslim” whether they believe it or not, just to get the idea that Obama is a Muslim out there. All’s fair in war and politics, after all.
And I’m willing to believe that. No, amend that. I do believe it. I need to believe it. Because the alternative, that a quarter of Texas voters are actually that small-minded and stupid, hits far too close to home, to my home and how I want to think of it, and, more generally, how I want to think of our greater home, the country we live in.
I swear that the person they’re talking about in this video is that other motherfucking, cocksucking lazy fuck who couldn’t get out of bed in time to vote named Jen Wang, and not me:
Thank you, Ashley!
The World Series started Wednesday, and since the Red Sox are out, I wasn’t planning on watching. Except, as with the Academy Awards, the Series has a hold over me that is hard to shake, no matter how much it blows (or how much I hate
the Rays one or both of the teams). So this year, I thought I would watch it much like I do the Oscars (or Project Runway)–to see what people are wearing. I know, it sounds a little batshit. But if you’ve watched as much baseball as I have, you know that when you’re heart’s not in the game itself, you have to find something to keep your interest. Of course, when I started thinking about it, it occurred to me that there were some eerie parallels between the World Series and the presidential election, which I’m also aware sounds a little batshit. So bear with me here…and let’s play ball!
In the World Series hair department, the primary trend matchup is Mohawks versus Mullets. Toward the end of the regular season, many Tampa Bay Rays players–and their 54 year-old manager, Joe Maddon–gave themselves “The Rayhawk” to demonstrate team unity. While the Phillies’ don’t have uniform ‘dos, Game 1 starting pitcher and NLCS MVP, Cole Hamels, and outfielder Jayson Werth (pictured) share a hairstyle that borrows its name from another sport: “Hockey Hair.” The two prevailing styles are, by all appearances, totally different–punks versus pucks, Joe Strummer versus Joe the Plumber–yet they both would have you believe that the person wearing them is a rebel, a freethinker, a maverick, an agent of change, and an outsider to the Clean-Cut Establishment.
With so much attention brought to specific voter groups this election, whether they be young, old, black, Latino, Asian-American, or your Jewish grandparents, there was perhaps no group more sought after than women voters. Wasn’t that why an unknown female governor from an obscure, underpopulated state that your “average American” has never been to was brought into the race? Baseball players in this year’s Series are also getting in touch with their feminine side, whether it’s hugging it out on the field after a win, or proudly wearing what most closely resembles a slightly overgrown bikini wax on their chins.
The flat hat brim is for the fake American who lives in the big city, an urban dweller too busy with their fake life to be hard-working, patriotic or pro-America, who feeds their family with peppery, bitter lettuces foraged from Whole Foods. The curled hat brim is for the real American who lives in a small town, in a wonderful little pocket of real America, who feeds their family through their real core values, like hunting, fishing, and getting real animal carcass-blood on their hands and clothes. The flat hat brim’s origin is the streets, hip-hop, pop culture, and cool; the curled hat brim’s is the country, country music, a culture of “actual responsibilities,” and true grit. The curled hat brim is bending under the weight of its profound realness, a burden that the flat hat brim, in all of its smart eloquence, will never understand. The curled hat brim says, “God Bless America,” and the flat hat brim, well, it occasionally “palls around” with terrorists…plural.
Perhaps the most enduring World Series trend that we may get a glimpse of this year is the fact that winning often hinges on just One Big Swing. One side can seem like they’re totally out of the game and then thwack!–victory is once again up for grabs. Both World Series teams also happen to be from two important swing states, Florida and Pennsylvania. Kinda puts a new spin on the idea of a state being “in play,” doesn’t it?
Not that America’s pastime has any bearing on, like, who our next American president will be. Or does it? The first World Series pitch has already been thrown out, and I’d rather watch the game, as much as my heart’s not in it this year, than talk any more about politics. So I’ll let you readers decide…Mullets in 5? Chin-Pubes in 7? Obama in 286?
White Pegacorn, comprised of Linkin Park’s Mike Shinoda and Mark Wakefield, have just released what I must deem Election ’08′s Greatest Hair Metal Ballad: “Barack Your World.”
If the puppets don’t seal the deal, maybe these “greatest lyrics ever” will:
“All I know for sure is/Baby if you were my Iraq/I’d never pull out, if you know what I mean.”
Amazing. Just amazing. The dudes in White Lion must be so pissssssed they didn’t write this first!
Filed under: Barack Obama, Can You Actually Smear a Plumber?, Joe the Plumber, John McCain, Plumbing, Shit Jokes, Shit Porn, Shit Smears, Smearing the Plumber, The 2008 Presidential Election, This is Bullshit
Conservatard blogger Michelle Malkin accused celebutard blogger Perez Hilton today of being a “P.D.S. Sufferer” (that’s “Palin Derangement Syndrome”) for posting this photo on his website with regard to Obama’s “lipstick on a pig” comment:
The question is, who to root for? They both spread gossip for a living. They each have massive followings who are near-illiterate, judging by their user comments. Name-punning–like “Snobama” and “Sluttyiena Miller”–is their bread-and-butter. And they both hate on pretty much everyone.
Maybe they should just fuck and get it over with already.
Filed under: Asian Bitches, Fat Jokes, It's a Draw, Lipstick on a Pig, Michelle Malkin Is a Joke, Perez Hilton, Pigs, Sarah Palin, The 2008 Presidential Election, The Lesser of Two Evils, Thinner Than Thou
Someone had the stroke of genius to ask Bai Ling who she might be voting for in the Presidential election (BTW, is she an actual citizen, and can she vote? Please, God, say “no”), and she–in a roundabout manner that would make any 501c3, non-partisan, non-profit, get-out-the-vote-campaign director proud–endorsed no one. Okay, to be more accurate, Ms. Ling rattled off, “I think, somebody, uh, this two candidates, I don’t really know them that well”–which seemed like better than nothing, since I always expect her to simply say, “Eep! Opp! Ork! Midriff! What does it mean, ‘dick?’”
Instead, like all of our favorite legislators, she started talking about values:
LEVI: Impregnawhat? I’m just a fuckin’ redneck. Dude, how old are you again? Like, 126 years old? You got hella bags under your eyes, man. You should do something about that.
McCAIN: Well, I can’t, you cunt, because I can’t lift my arms high enough to put on Cindy’s expensive eye cream every night. Because I’m a fuckin’ war hero, okay? A P-O-FUCKIN’-W, ever heard of it?
LEVI: Yeah, yeah. Whatevs. I know guns are cool and shit. Don’t get your crusty panties in a twist, bro.
BRISTOL: (sighs) I love it when men fight over me. This is so romantic. Levi, I can’t wait to have your baby. And the second one, and the third, and the fourth, and the…
LEVI: Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady. Slow down. Remember how I said I didn’t want any fuckin’ kids? Boy, you really effed up my life plans.
BRISTOL: Your life plans? What about my life plans?
LEVI: What are you fuckin’ talkin’ about? I made you. You’re set. Instead of being branded a pinhead by Bill O’Reilly and having conservatives blame your parents for this shit, you’re, like, now the poster child for the right-to-life movement. As though abortion had anything to do with our fuckin’ a lot without a condom. Think about it–you’re getting rewarded for your “morals” by puttin’ out at 17! Most kids our age would get killed for this shit, and I’m going to be on national TV instead. This is the greatest bait-and-switch in history. I’m a fuckin’ genius.
McCAIN: Kid, you are a fuckin’ genius. A cunt, but a genius cunt, nevertheless. (beat) Do you want to run my campaign?
LEVI: The dividends from fuckin’ without a condom just keep rollin’ in. Sweeeet.
Filed under: Abortion, Abstinence-Only Does Not Work, Bristol Palin, Fuckin' Without a Condom, Horribly Run Campaigns, John McCain, Knocked Up, Levi Johnston, Rednecks, Sarah Palin, The 2008 Presidential Election
KID IN PANTS: Gosh, thanks!
OBAMA: What do you call those pants exactly?
KID IN PANTS: Oh, these? They’re madras. Madras plaid.
OBAMA: They’re very, uh, how do I put it? Festive.
KID IN PANTS: Thanks! My grandpa has some just like it. Sometimes we wear them when we’re together. You know, for fun?
OBAMA: Mmmhmm. And what do you call that fabric, with the plaid patches stitched together like that?
KID IN PANTS: Patchwork?
OBAMA: As in quilts?
KID IN PANTS: Something like that. Hey, wanna hear some Herb Alpert?
OBAMA: Herb Wh–? Yeah, sure, go on, kid. (to himself) Pennsylvania blows.