A Hard Day’s Night

So, if you’ll allow me to reach across the aisle for a moment in one final election-related comment, let me just say that I could never run for president. Dodgy college experiences and, you know, BLOG aside (oh my God, could you imagine? “Do you want a president who farts and has long, freakish hairs growing out of her arms? And have you seen her views on the dairy industry?”), I cannot imagine what it must be like to campaign for two straight years. I can’t. I don’t have the energy, I don’t have the drive and I most definitely don’t have the patience to be ‘on’ that much. This is unfortunate, as I have the perfect working-class Scranton-area upbringing to springboard off of. Such a waste of an authentic blue-collar background!

It would take me precisely three hours of shaking hands before I snapped at someone and was all, “DUDE, I SEE YOU. I CAN ONLY MOVE SO FAST. I’M COMING! UNKNOT YOUR PANTIES, ASSHOLE.” And that would be it for my campaign. You think Hillary couldn’t get away with crying? Dude, I’d make Sarah Palin look like the most patient, prepared woman on the planet. My downfall would be grand and very, very swift. Within the first week, I’d be scowling on national television, snapping at overzealous supporters and rolling my eyes at the fiftieth baby placed in my arms because my God, yes, your baby is the cutest baby ever, although frankly at this point, THEY ARE ALL STARTING TO LOOK THE SAME, CAN I GET SOME PERSONAL SPACE UP IN HERE AND NOT HOLD A SCREAMING KID FOR TWO WHOLE MINUTES?

You see, it would bring out the worst in me. I’m not usually like that, obviously. I love meeting people and I love babies, but my God, I hate crowds. And not getting a chance to be alone, much less five minutes to sleep, would make me positively insane. Seriously, a candidate’s sleep schedule makes that of a new parent look utterly luxurious, and I plan to bear that in mind when I’m up at 3 a.m. feeding my daughter, because at least there won’t be strategists hovering around my couch on the campaign bus to leap on me the moment my eyes open. I might have to feed, change and rock her, but I won’t have to engage in any sort of deep discussion on economic policy.

My point is that although I am voting for Obama, I have tremendous respect for both candidates, because I refuse to believe that putting yourself through all that torture is all about ego, driven by some kind of self-involved machinations. Whatever it is they’re selling, they really believe they’re doing the right thing, and neither one is all good or all bad. And say what you will about McCain’s age, but at 72, he’s enduring a tremendous physical challenge that would make most men (and women!) half his age fall to their knees and cry uncle. I don’t see a sad grandpa up there. I see a man who deserves a little respect, as does his opponent.

So, you know, get out and vote. Your civil right and civic duty aside, it’s the least you can do for these two dudes who nearly killed themselves — for, I believe, the right reasons — to serve you. And in the words of the CEO of Schooner Tuna, remember: We’re all in this together.

Happy election day!

*The Beatles, obvs.

30 comments November 3rd, 2008