I Don't Know What It Means

So here on Election Day, I came into the office as I usually do - late, distracted, secretly longing for another go at my pillow, uncertain what my purpose was to be for the day.

All the usual.

I took my lunch down to the communal refrigerator where it could be manhandled and repositioned over the course of the day by anyone who cares to, no doubt aiding in the distribution of vital flavor juices (usually over the inside of the bag it's all resting in). I stopped to talk with a colleague to ask about their evening and to complain about their students. And then back to the office. Setting my bag down, I noticed something amiss on the door to my office, which I'd now seen and passed at least four times.

Like I said, I come in distracted. Sue me.

Taking a closer look, I saw this image taped to my door with no indication of who put it there or why.


Finding it quite funny, I repositioned it so short folks wouldn't have to strain to see it. But still, I wonder who put it there and what their secret message was.

I've cast my vote, allowing me to upset my uncle and to gripe for the next four years if it all goes wrong. And, of course, there was no waiting and no documents checked for me beyond the voter registration postcard itself. I wish everyone else would have it so easy.

But, regardless, happy Election Day. I hope you're doing - or have done - your part.

"My policy is up here, sir."

I can't decide what's funnier: the ring that seems to be constricting or the continued attempts to maintain six safe inches between candidates.

Only in America...

...could we go from a speech like Obama's which I loved, to a news cycle that happily admits the Republican nominee doesn't actually know his VP choice. They've met twice. And even though her party has been screaming about lack of experience, they admit she has no national (let alone international) experience. And she says she hasn't given the Iraq war much thought.

Excellent.

But Pat Buchanan has just assured us she's a feminist because she had a baby, has a job, and was a beauty queen. That Pat Buchanan can say the word "feminist" without going up in flames is, in itself, pretty damned mystifying. But it's the weird brazenness of this that is the funniest part. I mean, really, what intrigues me is that between his wife and the VP, John McCain moments are shaping up to be like a mid-1980s Robert Palmer video.

I think it is an awesome statement on our country that it is entirely possible the election will boil down to whether there is a subset of America for whom having a vagina in the oval office is more important than what the brain attached to the genitalia in question actually thinks. I sure hope that's not what has become of all the progress feminism has made.

What great theater. Fight on!