Stream of consciousness.
I'm surrounded by Republicans at work. By policy of the company that owns the offices we rent out, the lobby TV is always turned to Fox News with the volume turned up. So today the tension was particularly high. As the election drew to a close, the pitch got more and more shrill until the hyperbole was as bad as you've ever heard it: Obama was a tax-happy, military-gutting terrorist who will destroy America. Biting my tongue was particularly stressful today. It's not wise to offend your boss, so I was as diplomatic as possible.
"I have a bold prediction. Tomorrow, on November 5th, fire and brimstone will not fall from the sky."
I'm tired. I'm not celebrating -- I really don't think much of Obama, though he was the obvious choice. I just got sick of hearing how horrible a person he was. I don't care even if he is a Muslim -- though he isn't. For god's sake, if you're going to hate him for any reason, hate him for not fighting the bank bailout or FISA capitulation.
I'm emotionally exhausted. That sounds stupid, I know -- I'd barely rank in the 10th percentile among Kossacks in terms of how hard I worked to fix this country, and I can't say I'm respected or even liked around here. But if there's a quality we have in common, it's genuine concern for the country we share. That's why I keep coming back. Underneath the often-shrill tone is a virtue that these guys really give a shit. They don't hate America; they're whipping America into shape like a tough-love coach.
No, the world isn't ending, Republicans. You're Americans too, and we'll be kinder than you were. We won't call you traitors or terrorists or openly wish you were rounded up in death camps -- on national TV at that.
You see, as I approached the voting booth today, all the complexity of the issues faded from my mind. An old fire, slowly burning beneath my consciousness, found air again and burst into flame within me. Frustration turned to rage.
I want to hurt them. I still want to hurt them. I want them shattered.
It was 2002 again, and I can still see the fear in my liberal friends' eyes -- fear that they would be assaulted in public for speaking their views. In America. This was the Republicans' sin that I still can't forgive them for.
Katrina was unforgivable, but I never expected competence from them. Iraq is a debacle, but I never expected pacifism. But if I had even a shred of expectation of dignity from the Republicans, it was ripped apart six years ago when they flexed the muscles of their newfound power -- and turned their wrath on their own fellow Americans. "My friends," as McCain would say.
It ain't over yet.
One by one, name by name, I filled my ballot with Democrats. People I didn't know. County clerks, sheriffs -- I realized I never researched these people. Inherently nonpartisan, I didn't necessarily feel one would do a better job than the other. I only knew one thing.
At least these guys won't advocate putting my friends in death camps.
Has it been so long? Is six years long enough to forget? Fuck no. The true colors they showed were too ugly, and we have yet to see any remorse beyond the bitterness that they lost in 2006. If they learned anything, apparently it was to hide their true agenda. As long as they refuse to learn, I'll keep teaching the lesson.
I argued issues with people all year. But when my turn came, I felt like the strongest single-issue voter in the precinct:
Don't you ever fucking dare wish death upon my friends and family, ever again.
It ain't over yet.