What Are We Gonna Do With All This Trash?: Can I Vote Yet?

October 29, 2008

Can I Vote Yet?

[sigh]

Only 6 more days (or 7 or 8 depending upon the level of GOP-sponsored voter suppression in your area) until Election Day. This will easily be the most excruciating, painful, nerve-racking, torturous 6 days in recorded history. The level of self-prescribed medication required to keep me (relatively) sane during this entirely asinine political process has been astounding.

The suspense is killing me--are the tracking polls accurate? Will enough young people vote? Will the GOP succeed in stealing another election? Are those who are still claiming to be 'Undecided' (side note: how the fuck are you still undecided?!?!?) really just hiding the fact that they won't vote for a black man? What will happen if Obama loses? By the way, none of these questions are effective sleep aids, in case you were wondering.

[sigh]

I remember the good old days of the 2004 Presidential Election when I wasn't so much voting for a candidate (Kerry) as I was voting against one (Bush). Or even going back to 2000 when I didn't even bother to vote (Gore = meh, plus I always thought Lieberman was a joke--you want to do what with my videogames??). Oh disaffection, why have you abandoned me? What happened to the aloof Scrap Heap Pete I came to rely on for snarky, pessimistic sarcasm? Obama, I love you, man, but why have you made me care so much? To be honest, all this caring is kinda painful.

But after the sweet release of Nov. 4 (depending on the outcome), I may finally be able to get a good night sleep again.

And more importantly, at long last I can go back to not giving two shits about politics and I can focus on what is really important: UFO conspiracies.

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A History Of Trash

Trash, at first, was a pretty cool guy. You know, he’d come over with some beers, and you’d hang out and have a couple of laughs. Maybe Trash brought some weed with him, and you guys tried to sync up Dark Side Of The Moon with The Wizard Of Oz until you remembered you lost your VHS copy of that movie sometime in college and that you fucking hate Pink Floyd. Good times were had, nonetheless.

But then, you don’t know what changed, but Trash started to overstay his welcome. He’d just linger for hours, never taking the hint you wanted him to leave, no matter how many times you yawned obnoxiously or mentioned how early you had to get up tomorrow. Trash just didn’t get it. You were getting older. You didn’t have the time anymore to stay up until 3 a.m. to talk about the Port season of “The Wire” or how much you miss Jawbox. Eventually, you just stopped taking Trash’s phone calls and no longer replied to his group e-mails about sneaking into abandoned mental hospitals.

Last time you saw Trash, he was smoking alone outside a local dive bar, looking down at his decaying and mismatched shoes. You hoped he had been doing well. You hoped he had not been hurt by the disintegration of your friendship. And if he had, you wanted to comfort him. You wanted to tell him that even though people move on with their lives, it doesn’t mean they stop caring. You wanted him to see in your eyes a sincere appreciation for the time you shared, because all the relationships in our lives help make us who we are, and even if you weren’t the best of friends anymore, you wanted him to know that there would always be a piece of Trash in your heart.

But instead, you looked away and crossed the street. You were with your new girlfriend, and you really didn’t want to have to explain Trash to her. She’d never understand.