I’m kind of depressed. I think I’m suffering from PETWSS-Post Election Traumatic Writing Stress Syndrome.
Oh sure it’s great to have someone in the Oval Office who’s an actual thinker, can pronounce nuclear, and most importantly is super hot, but where does that leave me? Bush and his gang of thugs gave me fantastic material for eight years. I actually credit this administration for honing my political awareness as well as my writing skills. Now what? Sure Obama is not going to be perfect, but he’s not a little twerp looking for the next kegger. I like him. I like he’s speeches, I like his ideals, so what will I critique him on? He doesn’t jog along the mall shirtless?
I could go the bi-partisan route and seriously investigate his policies, but people, I drank the Kool-Aid. All of it. And it wasn’t sugar-free. If he has to leave the troops in Iraq, I’ll make excuses for him that he could never have dreamed of. If his magic wand of power doesn’t repair the economy and I end up standing in a soup line I’ll note that the soup is delicious, and that it comes with a nice roll and some crackers. And if he sends his girls to private school over public school, I’ll explain that he wasn’t in district and he didn’t want to take the place of another child who would then be forced to travel further for their education. I am thoroughly befuddled, if not a little disgusted with myself.
For now I suppose I’ll bask in the glow of voting for a winner, witnessing an historic American moment and looking at pictures of Obama frolicking on the beach in my back issue of People magazine.
It’s a new day folks, a new day. And I like it. A lot.
