Only inattentive idiots think that the weather’s a boring subject to talk about. Take today, for example: after a half-week of chilling winds, the sudden burst of sunlight and heat afflicting us down here in sunny San Jose is like getting slapped across the face with a towel soaked in boiling water. Whereas its cold counterpart is a wakeful stinging, a hot-water whip does more to damage one’s reactions than it does to stir it. It is a vicious assault, leaving you woozy and incoherent, your attention span focused not on your treacherous assailant, but the burning urgency of the injury. It is like being belittled by your parents- you’re angry, you’re enraged, and the sheer heat of the insult leaves you absolutely unable to do anything but scream incoherently.
Indeed, the weather’s a fascinating topic.
Unfortunately, as of late, my opinion towards politics has not been as positive. I had started this year with much anticipation. Much optimism, even. This was gearing up to be one king hell campaign, the sort that defines an entire era of American politics. In some ways, it still is- the utterly unprecedented neck-to-neck fight between a woman and a minority for the Democratic candidate will mark itself down in history textbooks for the years to come.
But that’s pretty much the only thing that will come out of this era. That little footnote. That tiny statement about what a carnival freak show the presidential election of 2008 has become. Why? Because John Fucking McCain is going to win one for the Good Ol’ Posse this time around. If you haven’t heard it yet, you heard it here first, folks: say hello to another four, another eight years of shoveling elephant shit.
Eris, there goes the tattered remains of my good mood.
