Warning: This confession may not be for the weak of stomach. And you may want to send the little ones into the other room.
Are they gone?
Okay, here goes...
I'm not a political activist, even though my mailbox is filled with dozens of daily emails that say otherwise. I've been around the block too many times to get excited about yet another political campaign. My usual approach is to ask my wife which one is the least offensive---then do what she tells me to. With two exceptions: The first was in 1960, when John Kennedy was running for president against Richard Nixon. Not old enough to vote, I still stayed up all night to find out who won (and, besides, I didn't even know my wife then).
Also, I'll admit that I voted for Obama three times and got excited for a while, but he is just too nice and wants to please everyone---not a bad trait, unless you're dealing with educationally and socially retarded sociopaths who are trying to tear down a democratic government and turn it into a Theocracy.
(Confession continued below the fold.)
No, that's not where I lost it and went totally off the rails. That happened this summer, when I did something I have never, ever, done before; I donated to a political campaign. And not just any campaign, it was Bernie Sander's campaign. Not a lot, just enough to blend in with the other 99%.
Please don't misunderstand. If Hillary wins the primary, I'll be voting for her, just as my wife said I will. But if you are as bat shit crazy as I am, and want to learn more about Bernie Sanders, go to www.theNation.com/article/these-people-are-the-secret-to-bernie-sanderss-success/. Also, check out the Oct 12, 2015 issue of New Yorker magazine, pg. 64, The Populist Prophet.
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