29 October 2004
We pick 'em: POTUS
This site has given favorable coverage to the None of the Above campaign, which supports leaving one's Presidential choice blank on the Oklahoma ballot next Tuesday because said ballot is effectively restricted to the candidates of the two major parties. I continue to look favorably upon this idea, inasmuch as it makes a certain amount of sense: if you find those two candidates equally unacceptable, you are left out in the electoral cold.
But suppose you find them unequally unacceptable?
There are plenty of reasons to be wary of another four years of BushCo. The Republicans, dammit, have discovered the joys of deficit spending, and while they're not as profligate as Democrats would like to be, the likelihood that a second Bush administration would make much of a dent in the deficit is close to nil. And while I'm not especially fond of the watered-down Marxism vended by the national Democrats these days, I, for one, do not welcome our new corporate overlords: I see no reason to think being screwed over by a corporation is somehow preferable to being screwed over by the government. (Yeah, yeah, I know, vote with your dollars. And how many corporations do you know of that have been brought down by boycotts?)
Still: John Kerry? The mind reels, and not in a good way. In this entire campaign he has made exactly one salient point: you can't run from your record. And John Kerry's record is undistinguished, except where it's disgusting.
So I asked myself, "Self, if you had your druthers, and no divine intervention or Marvel superheroes or wishing for more wishes or any of that other stuff, how would you really like this election to turn out?"
Sunrise on the prairie. I'm awake for once, and I have time to kill, and as the fellow spins around with my breakfast, the little bell in the back of my head emits the faintest hint of a tinkle, reminding me that I shouldn't have had the large orange juice.
And then it hits me: "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
"I'm sure you don't," he says, and turns away.
The girl from the checkout counter catches him in mid-turn. "Terry, I can't read this. Is this the short stack or the full stack? You didn't write down the price."
I looked at him again. "Aren't you Terry McAuliffe?"
"I know I've seen you on the news. Terry McAuliffe. Head of the Democratic National Committee all those years. What in the world are you doing slinging hash in Snake's Navel, Kansas, fercrissake?"
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Not so loud."
"It is you, isn't it?"
"That goddamn John Kerry," he said. "I worked my ass off to keep him within reach for the whole year, and in the last week he pissed it all away. Didn't get the electoral vote, didn't get the popular vote, didn't get squat. We damn near lost Connecticut. Somebody had to take the blame."
He didn't say anything more, and I wasn't about to ask. Besides, the eggs were runny.
And, well, there's only one other name on the ballot.Posted at 6:01 PM to Political Science Fiction
TrackBack: 9:14 PM, 29 October 2004
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