What Are We Gonna Do With All This Trash?: Election Results!

November 03, 2010

Election Results!

Did you vote yesterday? Of course, you didn’t. That was a dumb question. My apologies.

Stoners Fail to Outnumber Old White People… Wait, What?!

California’s Prop 19 -- the initiative to legalize and tax pot -- lost by nine percentage points. California, my future home, will one day have open air weed farmers’ markets. And weed will be sold in Whole Foods, where underpaid new employees will offer you samples of Bubblegum Kush and Gelato Pine. It will be a great day to be a Californian. But until that day, we will simply have to go through the taxing process of telling a doctor we sometimes get anxious so they’ll give us a medical marijuana card. Which, when you think about it, is fucking awesome. So, the state of California decided not to make their state even more awesome than it already is. I’m fine with that.

Dan Quayle’s Son Wins Congressional Seat

Fuck Arizona. I’ve never been there, I will never go there, and I’m pretty safe in the knowledge that I am missing absolutely nothing. Ben Quayle? Really? Fuck you, Arizona.

GOP Assumes Control of House

Oh, no! I guess the Obama administration will have to curtail all those banking regulations, right? Wait, they did already? Okay, so that means that Obama will have to shelve all those liberal policies he had waiting in his holster, yeah? Jesus. What does it mean that I want both political parties to fail miserably?

Sarah Palin: Inexplicably Still a Famous Political-Type Person

Ms. Palin said recently that she would run for president in 2012 only if no other suitable conservative candidates can be identified. That’s like saying I’d like to go out with you, but only if I know we’re going to fuck later. Yeah, if I’m assured the GOP nomination, I’ll give it go, but if there’s any competition, fuck that shit; I’ve got my reality TV show career to think about.

America to Incumbents: Go Fuck Yourselves

To paraphrase Benjamin Linus: America is a fickle bitch. If you’re in power, you’re the cause of all the problems we have at that moment. Nevermind that you’ve maybe only had two years on the job to try and un-fuck the country from eight years of the constant and unwarranted Bush/Cheney rapestakes. It doesn’t matter who preceded you; it’s your fault. But don’t worry. When you don’t get reelected, it will stop being your fault, and it will become the next guy’s fault. Then you can assume a board position at an investment back or energy conglomerate, and clean up. See, incumbents, it’s not so bad after all.

2 comments:

Scrap Heap Pete said...: What does it mean when I want both political parties to fail miserably?

Yeah, I totally understand this. The main thing I don't like about Obama is that he got me invested in politics. Quite frankly, I was a lot more comfortable when I thought politicians were shape-shifting reptile aliens.

I did, however, vote yesterday. Even if, ultimately, it was only a futile effort to counteract some bigot's vote.; 4:56 PM
Mike said...: Also, apparently I won reelection in Colorado.

I love being reelected.; 5:22 PM

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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.