I hate Monopoly. But as they claim you can’t lose if you don’t play. Remember that day in grade school when you learned about the electoral college and now you recognize the name as a staple “I slept through civics class” joke.
My frustration streamed backwards then. “Why don’t they just count the votes and tally— How dare some outdated system stand between!” Oh, the slow ignorance of dial-up and the millennial generation.
So toils another election year, dealing us the smack of television promotion (and by smack I do mean crack) like all junkie dealers to make ends meet.
If I hear one more silver haired sassafras tout the progress of ’68… Remember 1992 you arrogant fuckers? And since? Suspenders and white collared shirts and unethical trading were never cool, you know. It was always illegal. But if you slept through civics class civic responsibility is a breeze.
So let’s talk about the issues hunger health care jobs That’s it? I don’t want to talk about that. I live that. It hurts.
Let’s talk about something else Like the silly tall tales of history Where knowledge is free (except in an election year) and certain subjects matter to me.
Like how I am inevitably and supra-consciously affected by the suicides of soldiers the unfightable war the bleak tendency, to look and not see. So enraptured by the image I stopped looking near on ten years ago when war was war.
And then my grandfather died speaking of inevitable and the personal void of a veteran’s mind that thins bloodlines and thickens the slow process of gravity, became clear. A sinkhole of guilt and murder and death and politics. Oh those politics of the greatest generation. But that was when war was good (especially in an election year).
And now I know Great Grandma Emmy was an orphan who never voted. A child of the Bowery in 1883 whose daughter later married a man in the cavalry who still shook in 1923 tremors of gas and love and remnants of sheer inexperience.
And here I sit the promulgate of their lives with intention to compose an anthem that only devolved to rhyme which might be the most apt analogy yet.
But then I think of an elephant with no tusks reminder that all evolution is a serious mind-fuck. The future is not ours. But it could be.