Election night blues
Its 1:53am Pacific standard on November 5, 2008. The late night aftermath affect weighs heavily on all the strung out election junkies. I myself am obbsessively drinking coffee and refreshing the results page for the outcome of all the propositions in California. I stare blankly as I read the results for prop 8, the gay marriage ban. I see its passing as the most barbaric sign of how far we have before true civil rights exist in this country. Everyone is equal now, so long as they are christian and heterosexual.
A lot of people like to imagine they live in a hip place. The kind of place where historical figures like Sartre or Voltaire would love to hang out. They forget all too easily that they live in an environment more suitable for the masterminds of the spanish inquisition. You can see it on the face of every bloodthirsty jesus freak armed with a sign declaring 'God hates fags.'
But a black man is president. Yes, Barack Obama pulled in for a win by a wide margin. I can hear the cries of joy streaming from all my friends from High School. 'Finally,' they say, 'A president who really represents us.' Well he's not my President. No one opposed to Gay marriage, in favor of continuing the 'War on terror' and opposed to privacy in general could ever be my president.