Ok, so I voted today and this is as close to realpolitick as you’ll probably get from me on here.
As I entered the polling place, I look back and see my good bird dog watching my every move and waiting patiently in the back of the pickup. I’m thinking I’d rather vote for my old yellow dog before I’d vote for some candidates. He’s loyal as all get-out, is always happy to see me, appreciates everything I do for him, and he jumps in the river in the dead of winter to retrieve my ducks and geese. Man, talk about commitment. ‘Bird’ seems to always have my interests at heart.
I read a book recently by the late Neal Postman, an educator from back east. “Amusing Ourselves To Death” (subtitled ‘Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business’) was published thirty years ago, but remains even more relevant today. Postman talks about how the first fourteen presidents could have walked down any street in any city and not been recognized. They were elected by folks who were not distracted by whether they looked ‘presidential’ or not. Their stump speeches were marathons that put our fifteen second political sound-bite ads to shame. Our constant companion and revelator, the flickering electronic image is our altar of choice these days. Postman says that our discourse is an inch deep, and a mile wide. (Ok, so it’s only half mile wide) I’m thinking he’s right, and I’m gonna stick with my good ol’ yeller dog.