The Election of My Dreams
I couldn't imagine being up on stage, debating the political future of the most powerful nation in the world. I would never win; I know this. I am too honest. I am way too nice. I don't know enough cold hard "facts" about the so-called important stuff to be able to lay the foundation for a successful political sparring match, and truth be told, that is more than fine with me. I don't like yelling, smirking or aggression. I despise liars. I don't like to be patronized, and the only flip-floppers I ever want to see are the comfy black pair of Scotts that I wear on my feet day after day in paradise.
Perhaps that is why I don't feel compelled to write about politics very often. I don't have much to add to the ongoing arguments over the country's ills. I know the problems. I live here, for heaven's sake. But debating over how to fix those problems isn't what debates are all about, at least not at this point in our political (d)evolution. It is more about attacking, aggression, and one candidate appearing stronger and more confident than the other in spite of whatever gibberish might be streaming from either one's lips. Mud-slinging is expected, preferred even. And forget substance. Style is all that counts. What passes for politics in our country nowadays is like a slightly more refined version of the catfights everyone used to cheer on the trashy 80's soap "Dynasty". For those who didn't have ringside television seats for one during the decade of decadence, these battles typically involved Alexis and Krystal, the two strong female leads, along with lots of hair pulling and bitch-slapping. The scuffles normally took place near water, and would end with both women wrestling one another into a swimming pool, husky linebacker shoulder pads and all. Turns out these pads were not only fashionable, but they also served as pretty handy flotation devices when necessary. It never mattered who won, only how disgraceful each woman handled themselves along the way. The more smeared makeup and disheveled hair, the better. Maybe if the candidates dressed in their 80's finest and held one of the debates poolside, I would have been more compelled to actually watch. At least it would be a knowing nod to silliness instead of a second-rate vaudeville act cloaked in an air of Presidential sincerity.
Mercifully, the debates are over. Now we get the minute by minute polls telling us who will win in which state and by how much. We also get to track the decision making of the supposedly undecided voters, a small legion of Americans who purportedly might flip a coin to decide which ballot they will cast on November 6. I can't help but question whether these people actually exist, or if they might be accompanied to the polls by the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny and possibly even Santa Claus. At least I hope so, because it is very likely that even those imaginary creatures would have formed an opinion by now. Here's a real debate for you: I wonder what political party any of those guys would be affiliated with. Let's see. The Tooth Fairy is all about the Benjamins, and any parent knows that kids losing baby teeth can be big business for a few years. Cash for canines, a little extra for bicuspids. No taxes. A kid could get rich! You can even buy a fancy pillow to put the teeth in. It's a foolproof venture. Every child loses their teeth, it's natural. Who knows what kind of resale value those tiny chompers have on the black market. Only the Tooth Fairy knows. Nobody loses in this market. He might not be too far to the right, but the whole TF schtick feels Republican to me. And how about the Easter Bunny? Look what's in his basket. Softly colored eggs, pink and powder blue included. He delivers chocolate of all flavors--dark, milk, white, even orange--and does so without a hint of judgement. Baskets for everyone! He goes hippity-hoppity down the bunny trail, which sounds a little gay if you ask me, though it is possible he's simply metrosexual. But I can't ignore those pastels. They haven't been considered masculine since "Miami Vice" went off the air in 1990. Okay, that does it. Democrat it is. In fact, you go to the head of the Liberal class, EB.
Then we have Santa Claus. He slides down chimneys, giving gifts to all the good little boys and girls and demanding little or nothing in return. He's got heart, the big lug. They say he leaves coal in the stockings of the bad kids, but I don't buy it. Never did. I didn't know anyone who got coal for Christmas, even if they deserved it. From all accounts, Mr. Claus is a big softie. He also seems like a fair boss, even employing elves to make his toys and run his workshop. To me, this screams out "workplace diversity". Sounds like he's leaning Democrat, but then you look at that outfit. It's RED from head to toe! He is married--to a woman--and it's anyone's guess what he thinks about gay marriage. I've personally never seen a same-sex elfin couple holding hands during breaks in toy production, have you? And check out that beard. He looks like an aging hippie, yet you see him horsewhipping those reindeer to pick up speed as he jets around the world every year. No hippie worth his weight in Birkenstocks would ever touch an animal. Hmm. I'm not so sure about this guy and his political leanings. He is a mass of contradictions, this Santa Claus, a potential flip-flopper with no backbone. Ladies and Gentlemen, we may have found our Undecided Voter, and right there in the North Pole of all places.
Maybe this is what the last debate should have been: Tooth Fairy vs. Easter Bunny, moderated by jolly old St. Nick. At some point, the whole thing would have ended peacefully. I know it would have. None of these dudes are out for blood. No catfights here. No mudslinging. Nobody would have ended up in a pool, drenched and embarrassed. This assortment of characters just wants to make us happy. They might have differing opinions on how to do so, but our best intentions are clearly always at heart. They have stood for the same ideals for centuries--no guessing involved. I presume the ending of that final debate would probably have included a singalong, perhaps a few lines of "Cumbaya" to keep it neutral, and a promise to keep working for the good of all the believers out there. They understand the innocence of their electorate. After all, they were born of it; their mere existence depends on it.
Back in reality, I don't see anyone holding hands and singing songs of togetherness. I'm never entirely sure who is to be trusted. But I do know this: My vote counts, and I find myself longing for the days of Tooth Fairy vs. Easter Bunny. I pine away for that type of lost innocence, the kind that today seems so far gone and only remotely possible somewhere in the wildest corners of our imagination. Personally, I think an election between TF and EB would signify our real arrival as an international superpower. No matter who emerges the victor of such a contest, everybody wins the whole world over.
Until then, I suppose I just have to trust my instincts on which present-day candidate will come closest to fulfilling my political fantasies. None of the options thrill me, but I must vote for the one who seems less likely to destroy my hopes and dreams, less likely to rob me of whatever innocence is left. If that sounds suspiciously like the "lesser of two evils" complaint heard so often among American voters lately, well, it should. Because until a TF or EB comes along, this is what it comes down to in the United States. We may deserve more, but first we have to demand it. We have to allow ourselves to imagine that anything is possible. Otherwise, it never will be.
After reading this, if anyone is still undecided about which way my ballot will be cast (though I'm not sure how you could be), here's a hint: Look for the trail of plastic yellow grass, dyed eggs and chocolate of all varieties. I will be standing there at the end of it wearing my pastel yellow shirt, sweating from all the hippity-hoppity and humming a few bars of "Here Comes Peter Cottontail".
In two weeks I will vote, but I will silently wish for more. And no matter who wins I will most certainly fantasize about the next election, and a potential campaign slogan for my ultimate Presidential hero. You heard it here first.
Easter Bunny, 2016. Hop on the trail now.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Perhaps that is why I don't feel compelled to write about politics very often. I don't have much to add to the ongoing arguments over the country's ills. I know the problems. I live here, for heaven's sake. But debating over how to fix those problems isn't what debates are all about, at least not at this point in our political (d)evolution. It is more about attacking, aggression, and one candidate appearing stronger and more confident than the other in spite of whatever gibberish might be streaming from either one's lips. Mud-slinging is expected, preferred even. And forget substance. Style is all that counts. What passes for politics in our country nowadays is like a slightly more refined version of the catfights everyone used to cheer on the trashy 80's soap "Dynasty". For those who didn't have ringside television seats for one during the decade of decadence, these battles typically involved Alexis and Krystal, the two strong female leads, along with lots of hair pulling and bitch-slapping. The scuffles normally took place near water, and would end with both women wrestling one another into a swimming pool, husky linebacker shoulder pads and all. Turns out these pads were not only fashionable, but they also served as pretty handy flotation devices when necessary. It never mattered who won, only how disgraceful each woman handled themselves along the way. The more smeared makeup and disheveled hair, the better. Maybe if the candidates dressed in their 80's finest and held one of the debates poolside, I would have been more compelled to actually watch. At least it would be a knowing nod to silliness instead of a second-rate vaudeville act cloaked in an air of Presidential sincerity.
Mercifully, the debates are over. Now we get the minute by minute polls telling us who will win in which state and by how much. We also get to track the decision making of the supposedly undecided voters, a small legion of Americans who purportedly might flip a coin to decide which ballot they will cast on November 6. I can't help but question whether these people actually exist, or if they might be accompanied to the polls by the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny and possibly even Santa Claus. At least I hope so, because it is very likely that even those imaginary creatures would have formed an opinion by now. Here's a real debate for you: I wonder what political party any of those guys would be affiliated with. Let's see. The Tooth Fairy is all about the Benjamins, and any parent knows that kids losing baby teeth can be big business for a few years. Cash for canines, a little extra for bicuspids. No taxes. A kid could get rich! You can even buy a fancy pillow to put the teeth in. It's a foolproof venture. Every child loses their teeth, it's natural. Who knows what kind of resale value those tiny chompers have on the black market. Only the Tooth Fairy knows. Nobody loses in this market. He might not be too far to the right, but the whole TF schtick feels Republican to me. And how about the Easter Bunny? Look what's in his basket. Softly colored eggs, pink and powder blue included. He delivers chocolate of all flavors--dark, milk, white, even orange--and does so without a hint of judgement. Baskets for everyone! He goes hippity-hoppity down the bunny trail, which sounds a little gay if you ask me, though it is possible he's simply metrosexual. But I can't ignore those pastels. They haven't been considered masculine since "Miami Vice" went off the air in 1990. Okay, that does it. Democrat it is. In fact, you go to the head of the Liberal class, EB.
Then we have Santa Claus. He slides down chimneys, giving gifts to all the good little boys and girls and demanding little or nothing in return. He's got heart, the big lug. They say he leaves coal in the stockings of the bad kids, but I don't buy it. Never did. I didn't know anyone who got coal for Christmas, even if they deserved it. From all accounts, Mr. Claus is a big softie. He also seems like a fair boss, even employing elves to make his toys and run his workshop. To me, this screams out "workplace diversity". Sounds like he's leaning Democrat, but then you look at that outfit. It's RED from head to toe! He is married--to a woman--and it's anyone's guess what he thinks about gay marriage. I've personally never seen a same-sex elfin couple holding hands during breaks in toy production, have you? And check out that beard. He looks like an aging hippie, yet you see him horsewhipping those reindeer to pick up speed as he jets around the world every year. No hippie worth his weight in Birkenstocks would ever touch an animal. Hmm. I'm not so sure about this guy and his political leanings. He is a mass of contradictions, this Santa Claus, a potential flip-flopper with no backbone. Ladies and Gentlemen, we may have found our Undecided Voter, and right there in the North Pole of all places.
Maybe this is what the last debate should have been: Tooth Fairy vs. Easter Bunny, moderated by jolly old St. Nick. At some point, the whole thing would have ended peacefully. I know it would have. None of these dudes are out for blood. No catfights here. No mudslinging. Nobody would have ended up in a pool, drenched and embarrassed. This assortment of characters just wants to make us happy. They might have differing opinions on how to do so, but our best intentions are clearly always at heart. They have stood for the same ideals for centuries--no guessing involved. I presume the ending of that final debate would probably have included a singalong, perhaps a few lines of "Cumbaya" to keep it neutral, and a promise to keep working for the good of all the believers out there. They understand the innocence of their electorate. After all, they were born of it; their mere existence depends on it.
Back in reality, I don't see anyone holding hands and singing songs of togetherness. I'm never entirely sure who is to be trusted. But I do know this: My vote counts, and I find myself longing for the days of Tooth Fairy vs. Easter Bunny. I pine away for that type of lost innocence, the kind that today seems so far gone and only remotely possible somewhere in the wildest corners of our imagination. Personally, I think an election between TF and EB would signify our real arrival as an international superpower. No matter who emerges the victor of such a contest, everybody wins the whole world over.
Until then, I suppose I just have to trust my instincts on which present-day candidate will come closest to fulfilling my political fantasies. None of the options thrill me, but I must vote for the one who seems less likely to destroy my hopes and dreams, less likely to rob me of whatever innocence is left. If that sounds suspiciously like the "lesser of two evils" complaint heard so often among American voters lately, well, it should. Because until a TF or EB comes along, this is what it comes down to in the United States. We may deserve more, but first we have to demand it. We have to allow ourselves to imagine that anything is possible. Otherwise, it never will be.
After reading this, if anyone is still undecided about which way my ballot will be cast (though I'm not sure how you could be), here's a hint: Look for the trail of plastic yellow grass, dyed eggs and chocolate of all varieties. I will be standing there at the end of it wearing my pastel yellow shirt, sweating from all the hippity-hoppity and humming a few bars of "Here Comes Peter Cottontail".
In two weeks I will vote, but I will silently wish for more. And no matter who wins I will most certainly fantasize about the next election, and a potential campaign slogan for my ultimate Presidential hero. You heard it here first.
Easter Bunny, 2016. Hop on the trail now.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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