The night before the end of the world; Clinton comes to campus; Gunfire or fireworks?

The living room slider is open, and as I sit here and type this I can here the pop, pop, poppopopop of…I don’t know what in the distance. The paranoid part of me thinks it’s gunfire, it sounds enough like the distinct crackling of gunfire, but the other part of me knows it’s just fireworks. Some preliminary celebrations, or letting off steam. I suppose it doesn’t matter at this point. If people really want to kill each other over this election, then let them. I am far beyond done with this election. I haven’t even had to endure the incessant political ads on television, so my heart goes out to those of you who still watch TV.

I’m genuinely surprised nothing crazy happened today. No Russian geeks tried to dump the equivalent of a dead body in our bed concerning Clinton, and no major media outlet picked up a story that Trump dines on barbecued infants as part of some Satanic ritual. I’m also surprised that no major violence broke out between protesters here in quiet Grand Rapids. I’m sure some insults were hurled, but I’m talking real blood-spattering, bone-breaking violence. Especially considering both

Clinton came to Grand Valley today, and I decided to go check it out. The line went far beyond the field house, past the bookstore, down the sidewalk, around the parking lot and toward the back of the field house. It would be an understatement to say that they came unprepared. The field house has a capacity of a little over 4,000 people, and it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of sanity to say there were at least that many people waiting in line when I arrived at 2:40.

I waited in line with my dutiful Shanice for about an hour and a half, and by 4 o’clock it became apparent we weren’t getting inside the field house. No matter. The showing itself told me two things:

a) Clinton has a lot of support at Grand Valley


b) Everyone is exhausted from this election

The first part is pretty self-evident, but the second part needs some explanation. During my time standing in line I saw only one anti-Hillary protester, and even then he wasn’t exactly pro-Trump either. He bore a crudely written sign about how Clinton was somehow involved with the water contamination at Camp LeJeune. I didn’t get the chance to talk to him about her involvement with that, but at the same time it didn’t seem all that credible given the problem began in the 1950s and ended in the 1980s. The only tenable connection is that the Clinton administration (Bill Clinton, that is) may have screwed up the VA during the ‘90s. That’s not really Hillary’s faulty, though. Apparently there were some pro-Trump/anti-Hillary protesters up near the entrance of the field house, but I didn’t bother to check them out. Why bother? There’s no point, because like I said, it’s all a routine at this point. The battle lines have been drawn, and we all know what each camp has to say about the other.

I’m not even going to talk about the protests.

All I’m going to say is do what you have to do, and don’t go crazy tomorrow. I don’t know if Trump will accept the results if he loses, but that’s beside the point. The actions of one man are, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential, but the actions of a multitude of people can have dramatic, far-reaching consequences. So vote, but be gracious if you lose. Even if Trump wins I will grit my teeth, have a drink, and hope that nothing too insane happens. Maybe I’ll consider buying a bit of land in northern Michigan, building a house, and riding out the next four years.

From what I’ve read the rural parts of Germany and Japan didn’t do too poorly during the war.

How did we even get to this point? That’s what I’m still trying to wrap my head around. Maybe this is the result of apathy, the lack of critical thought, and dirty politics? I don’t have the answers, and I hope the answer isn’t that the People actually want to give authoritarianism a whirl.

I suppose come tomorrow night we will have our answer.

All I know is that tomorrow I will drive out to my polling location, cast my vote for Hillary Rodham Clinton, go home, and hope that the republic doesn’t eat itself by November 9th. I wish that I could vote for Jill Stein, but the stakes are too high. It breaks my heart every time I look at the package of buttons and pamphlets Shanice received from the Stein people. Jill, if you ever read this, I just want you to know you are a victim of grim circumstances, and I would have voted for you in a heartbeat in a different time.

This is it. In seven hours we make the call about the leader of the United States, and the direction the world will take for the next four years.

A luta continua.


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