until now

i haven't posted much on the elections this year. it just gets me too riled up. so i have spent my time reading about the candidates, listening to podcasts and watching a lot of the rachel maddow show. i don't even feel the need to argue with friends, acquaintances or strangers about how or why anyone that can actually think and reason for themselves would even consider voting red. i just sit back and let the state of the economy win my argument for me. (p.s. when my wife was a little bit tipsy on saturday night at the party, she got into a political argument, she also go into an unrelated shouting match that day, perhaps she would like to do a guest blog?!?!)

anyway, i have now begun to marvel at the population of fence-sitters. i had intended to focus my ranting and raving energy on them today. fortunately for you, i stumbled across a great essay by a guy i have long been a fan of, david sedaris. if you haven't heard of him you should really check him out, he is worth the time.

this particular essay was published in the new yorker, a magazine that i wish i could say i am cool enough to read. every time i get my hands on a copy, i find myself thinking, 'i really should get this magazine, it has such great stuff in it'. i love humour for a thinking person and it always boasts plenty of meaty stuff. for some reason, i feel like i'd have to read it under the sheets with a flashlight so i would not be discovered and brandished an impostor.

even though mr. sedaris probably never intended to take the wind out of my proverbial sails, he has already said exactly what needs to be said:

...just as we move into the final weeks of the Presidential campaign the focus shifts to the undecided voters...I look at these people and can’t quite believe that they exist. Are they professional actors? I wonder. Or are they simply laymen who want a lot of attention?

To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”

To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.

if you would like to enjoy the rest of his poignant essay, feel free to take a gander here.

and hey, in 12 days, between errands and cups of coffee: VOTE!