I love these jaybirds who announce, after months of polling at 1 percent, that they’re “suspending” their campaigns. Oh, really? Should we expect you to re-enter the race in March, after you have your car wash and bake sale to re-fund your obviously empty campaign piggy bank?
I wish one of these bottom feeders would just once say that he’s ending his bid for president. Because we all know. Dude, you gone!
•
Allow me to take you back to the Iowa caucuses on Feb. 1. MSNBC was showing an actual group of caucusers, in the middle of discussing various issues and candidates, and a woman in her early 20s opined that a certain situation involving the Veterans Administration was “fucked up.” This rocking F-bomb was plainly audible. Oops. OK, you know. Shit happens. A woman used one of our greatest and most utilitarian words in a very common way.
But, holy expletive, Batman, this blooper getting on the air launched a stream of apologies from Brian Williams, Rachel Maddow and others that was just completely over the top and utterly unnecessary. They over-apologized for this totally unshocking slip by a factor of about 79. Hey guys, it’s cool. Ninety percent of your viewers, I’m guessing, had used the term fucked up at least once that day, and there’s really no need to throw yourselves upon the mercy of the audience and beg for forgiveness. It’s fine. Really. We can cope. Shit and fuck are absolutely dandy multi-purpose words (noun, verb, adjective, and explosive interjection), and we now know that the airwaves will not—repeat, will not—explode into tentacles of fundamentalist flame if these choice little biscuits occasionally slip on to our precious puritan airwaves. It ain’t 1959 no mo’.
•
Speaking of caucuses, we have our own folksy little shindig coming up on the 20th, and I’ll tell you right now, I won’t be there. I think caucuses are lame, outdated, cheap and a complete pain in the ass, an attitude that sets comfortably with my ever-evolving misanthropy. And I bet I’m not the only one who feels this way.
Look, caucuses make sense if you’re living in a cabin in Genoa in 1893, and you need to get together with your neighbors in the Grange Hall and discuss the candidates and the issues so you can figure out who’s gonna do what. But what was a good call in the quaint days of yesteryear positively sucks eggs here in the modern times. I really don’t need to hear my neighbors blather and electioneer about the candidates. I am, thanks to my laptop, positively drowning in political information. I have as much info as I need to make an informed choice. In fact, too much! I don’t need to hang out for a four hour Hillary/Bernie blabfest. I much prefer primary elections—show up, sign in, vote, and then, after all of five minutes, buh bye! Done. See you in November.