Always chilly and usually gray, or so it seems I remember many days in November over the years when I walked to a voting place, muttering to myself about winter coming on. And many times, not unlike today, I've thought that American politics, like the weather most election days, is a dreary matter.
Once I was young and idealistic and ignorant ... but not for long. As a college freshman I declared a major in political science. After a course that year called Introduction of Indiana Politics, or some such name, I lost both idealism and ignorance and changed my major to English lit. Time itself took care of the business of being young. I am pessimistic this evening and dread listening to the results tomorrow morning [I have no TV and will only listen to the classical music radio station which does not do news -- blessings on their Mozart addled brains!] They are a respite and a refuge. I could pick nits about their programming but not in terms of their lack of news. After today, glory hallelujah!, the paid political ads will no longer foul the minutes between segments of symphonies.
I recently found this quote; “We'd all like t'vote for th' best man, but he's never a candidate.” - Kin Hubbard. That about sums up what I have to say tonight except I might sometimes change "he" to "she."
Vitaliy Mashchenko paints - The Pines
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