I love a presidential election.
Nothing gets me fired up more than shuffling through probably meaningless polls in the months leading up to November and listening to pundits analyze the situation in “battleground” states. Hell, you know with a name like “battleground” something exciting is going to happen.
Don’t even get me started on the road interviews and the witty profile pieces and the debates—there is no story the media can tell quite so well as a presidential election and I’m suckered in time and time again. It’s thrilling and exhausting all at the same time, like watching a never-ending blockbuster action flick and desperately wanting to throw your hands in the air and storm out of the theatre—but every time you finally muster the motivation to get out of your velveteen seat, another giant alien bursts forth from the ocean floor and you slam right back down.
That said, there is a time and place for everything. I love a presidential election. I also love Cherry Garcia ice cream. I manage to avoid consuming Cherry Garcia except on rare occasions, an effort to keep my arteries clear and my svelte figure (which the community demands I maintain) intact. A presidential election is great, but let’s try to exercise a little bit of restraint here. I don’t think the three-ish year waiting period until the next one suggested by our founding fathers is too much for us to handle.
We should not be talking about Hillary Clinton right now. A Hillary-moratorium is in order. I don’t want to hear about Hillary Clinton or Marco Rubio or Chris Christie or Elizabeth Warren or anyone in conjunction with “2016” until 2015 at the earliest.
I know why it happens, and I know it’s my fault. I watch the incessant cable broadcasts and read all the articles and blog posts and play with all of the interactive maps every election year, basically shoveling money at these networks. One day, some clever fellow or gal in one of their offices looked over “the numbers” and said, “Hey—people dig this. Let’s never stop, ever.” And here we are.
I’m sorry to bring up Hillary again, I know there is a moratorium but she did make a clever statement about all of the pointless and premature 2016 conjecture the other day—putting aside her ulterior motives—when she noted that what the media does by spinning this election story not even one year after we re-elected a president is akin to going to a party to talk to someone and as soon as the conversation begins looking over your shoulder to see who else is in the room.
Sorry, Hillary-moratorium back on.
It’s ridiculous and incredibly unhealthy to devote so much time and energy to something 3 years down the line when there are matters of much greater import that demand solutions in the coming days and hours.
Trust me, I know it’s hard not to get sucked in, but now more than ever we must throw our hands in the air and storm out of the theatre. Every day offers us another chance to win the big game but that’s never going to happen if we continue to ignore the plays and continue to guess and gossip about who Coach is going to pick for Quarterback when Barry graduates.
Dallas is a human being who is, with some hesitation, studying economics and finance. He is entering the fourth year of his relationship with The Spectator. He enjoys vacuuming, wearing other people's glasses and pretending to be Australian.