We Need the Eggs

A billboard in my town advertising boots proclaims: “It’s an election year…you’ll need these.”

I can’t suppress my approving laugh. These last two years have produced feces a little thicker and mud thrown a little harder than during any election in history. I take time to imagine John Adams or William Howard Taft running for president given today’s conditions.

Compared to today, campaigns of the past were fairly low-key activities. Although, citizens seemed to care just a little bit more when we had to work to simply see what the candidates looked like. In reality, there was no need, their résumé was more than enough. Small groups gathered around front porches and migrated to see the passing whistle stop train tour. Then our focus was more on their ideas, than their appearance or how they teased each other on the playground during recess that week. And then, television! The glowing box that in 1960 elected a handsome, clean Kennedy and saddened a sweaty, sweaty Nixon. Now the tube supplies non-stop, unforgiving, make your brain spin inside your skull “news.” (Feel free to pull a Howard Beale-”Network” moment and scream out your window.)

With more coverage, comes more misguided, parroted opinions. And who are we fooling with these opinions? Who are we pretending for? We say that race and sex don’t make a difference, but they do. ‘But.’ We use that word to knowingly contradict ourselves, the illusion of bringing completion to our pithy comments. “He’s a nice guy, but he throws babies at old ladies.” “John McCain has good ideas, but he’s old.” “Hilary Clinton is smart, but she’ll have PMS.” “Barack Obama is a good speaker, but he’s Muslim.” The A.B. (after-but) cancels out the B.B. (before-but). It’s comparable to a cat gingerly tossing about a ball of string and then swatting it hard across the room (most likely hitting and breaking that antique vase your grandmother willed to you). We’re all guilty of this device so think about your ‘buts’ and say what you mean.

My point is we can never escape the idiocy that surrounds modern three-ring circus elections. Everyone (even and especially idiots) has an opinion which is freely jammed down the throats of each open mouth. We voters have no choice but to ride the campaign bus until it arrives at the “city on a hill” known has the first Tuesday in November. As for finding boots that fit my feet, well, that’s another story.