Put the Silly String Down. I Mean It.

Look. This is not the Political Super Bowl. This is not Election Homecoming and it is not okay to TP your Republican (or Democratic) neighbor’s house on the morning of November 3, okay?

As Orcinus points out, Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, how old are we again?

There’s a lot about the current political rhetoric I find repulsive, including this red state-blue state bullshit that classifies us by what we drive and what we buy. But nothing bothers me more than this idea that we’re supporting opposing sports teams and it’s okay to key people’s fucking cars.

This is not to say we shouldn’t celebrate, or that I don’t plan to. There isn’t a classification for how hard I plan to party that night. I bought a pair of shiny, sexy, downright dangerous black high heels about three months ago and put them in the back of my closet. I plan to put them on on Nov. 2 and if Bush loses I plan to dance at an election party my Democratic friends and I have been planning for months. I plan to sing the Star Spangled Banner and possibly the Marseillaise and any other song my intoxicated self will be able to recall at that point. I plan to high-five my drunk-ass neighbors who sit on the porch talking politics and snorfing tequila all day long, and I plan to send some e-mail to some friends in other countries who’ve been watching this election with great interest. The e-mails may or may not involve the word “whoo.”

What I don’t plan to do is go over to my Republican relatives’ houses or their uber-freepi-friends’ places and shove an early edition of the local paper with their guy’s heartbroken face on it up against their bedroom windows. I don’t plan to spray-paint “In Your Face, Muthafucka!” on the right-wing neighbor’s car, or put my Kerry hat on and dance around the office, and not just because I’d be arrested for the former and fired for the latter.

Such inelegant behavior is unbecoming this great nation of ours and its wonderful political system. To reduce this election to an excuse for destruction of property demeans all who took time out of their schedules to work for something they believe in. I admire people who participate in the political process, even if I despise every word out of their mouths, more than people who sit at home and scratch their asses and say, “Fuck politics, man,” and I don’t think anybody will be able to make the losers feel worse than they already will come the morning after. It’s childish, and superfluous.

Plus hockey season starts soon. I need to save my energy.