Between a rock and a hard place
It must have been about a year ago. Maybe. Like most people I imagine, recent memory has blurred into something the color of television static. I was discussing with one of my American friends, how awful the Democratic primaries were. I hadn’t really warmed up to any of the candidates (yet)… and I made this off-handed remark about how this was all a charade and that it would be Biden-Harris in the end.
At the time it was a tongue-in-cheek remark meant to bait my friend (who turned into a committed member of the Yang-gang). It was the most awful combination I could think of. The doddering old man paired up with the psychopathic viper. When Tulsi absolutely eviscerated Kamala that one fateful debate night, I was genuinely cheerful.
Of course now…
Damn. I feel like one of those sports-fans who thinks they influenced the game by screaming at the television. Is this all my fault?
I mean it probably is.
Not that I have a horse in this particular race. I am after-all not American. But I do fervently care about what happens in the domain of freedom and liberty. As, I imagine, everyone who cares about these ‘platitudes’ should.
Trump-Pence. Or Biden-Harris. What a shit choice.
*rubs his eyes in frustration*
I’d obviously vote for Jo Jorgensen. Mostly because of her name-sake. (People named Jo are the best!) And maybe because of her libertarian tendencies (which I also kinda like).
In any event, I just wanted to commiserate with the all the peeps that have been kicked in the face by Covid and now find themselves politically homeless.
Just keep on swimming.