Tuesday, November 04, 2008

GOBAMA

I voted this morning. It felt great to fill in that X next to Obama and Biden's names.

I don't have much more to say about this election, except that if Barack loses tonight, I am going to loot my own apartment. I am going to run screaming into my living room, grab my roommate's TV, put it in my room and shut the door. End of looting.

We are about to elect the coolest president ever. As Alex Balk wrote, "Holy crap, it’s like we’re voting for president of The Matrix":


And then there is this, from an MTV news interview. This quote is funny, sure, but it also speaks to something very important and essential about the man—namely, his eminent reasonableness.

Barack said (and thanks to Jen for turning me on to this), in reference to a question about laws against "sagging" pants:
I think people passing a law against people wearing sagging pants is a waste of time. We should be focused on creating jobs, improving our schools, health care, dealing with the war in Iraq, and anybody, any public official, that is worrying about sagging pants probably needs to spend some time focusing on real problems out there. Having said that, brothers should pull up their pants.
True that. Fingers crossed, everybody. I don't want to have to loot your apartment, too.

1 comment:

steve said...

9:04am, November 4, 2008.
PS19, 325 S. 3rd Street, South Williamsburg, BK.

While waiting in line for voting district 28, I listened in on the conversation at the table directly before me. An elderly Chinese couple who barely spoke English were trying to get signed in to vote but there was a translation barrier.

"Obama. Obama, OBAMA," said the wife as the election worker tried to explain to her how to use the seemingly Cold War, Minuteman control panel voting machines we use in Brooklyn. The lovely Latina ladies tried to explain to the wife that she and her husband must vote one at a time, and as they physically pulled the bewildered husband toward the booth the wife started shouting a bunch of Chinese statements interspersed with "OBAMA, OBAMA." She grasped desperately at his cardigan sleeve in a futile effort to save him from this cadre of women obviously trying to corrupt his soul with their voting instructions and feminine wiles.

After being forcibly assisted in their voting experience, which may or may not have been exactly construed as "legal," the couple seemed contented that their votes actually went through the magical slot machine and into the Obama stack for counting. I felt inspired by their choice of Obama and felt I should follow suit; in doing so, changing my vote for President from the write-in "Zombie Abraham Lincoln."

I didn't even get a sticker; what a ripoff.

Oh, and you will never loot my TV, sucka-chump. Like my old friend Chucky Heston used to say back in his living days, "From my COLD, DEAD HAND."