Poor Sotheby’s barely managed to sell 125 million dollars worth of art tonight.

To blog again, I would have to sit still for long enough to process what’s actually happening in my life.
I dash around from one engagement to the next and then, (what seems like days later) I dash back home to bed.
I’m not accountable to anyone; I could wear the same outfit six days a week and no one would notice if I didn’t start to smell.

From a friend:
“So, the real question is–if he wins, will I not be able to hate America anymore?”

Frankly, even if he wins there will be more problems then I want to count. He will not be the pacifist embodiment of the ultra-liberal Left.
There’s too many problems: a failing economy, Iraq, potential terrorist threats, lack of health care, a budget deficit, global warming. Really? His presidency will not be able to undo all of that.

And we must admit, on the eve of Election Night: it is unreasonable to expect a single person to fix this giant mess we’re in–to not mess something up. I’m lowering my expectations because I’m so terrified of being disappointed.

The racist bigots aren’t the scariest part of this election cycle (haven’t they actually been pretty muted, considering?), the scariest are the fringe liberals that think that Obama is the messiah–nobody deserves a blank check.

Obama is pretty great–no, he’s really great. So great. I tear up when he speaks, my heart flutters when Katie Couric interviews him. I have a total nerd-crush on him.

He’s going to appoint fair Justices to the Supreme Court, respond to crises with “temperamental strength,” and use diplomacy as a pillar of foreign policy. One of his top economic advisers is Warren Buffett and his favorite writer is Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

I plan on getting good and drunk tomorrow night–for Obama!

I haven’t posted anything here because my life is getting swallowed whole by apprehension.
I’m so looking forward to Tuesday; I’m so excited and scared.
I’ll be voting early in the morning, heading to class right after and running around well into dinnertime–but I wish I could ditch class, lay in bed, and read the news all day.
I’ve never been one for team sports or collectives of any kind; but I have always had a soft spot for idealistic movements. And whatever happens, this will be huge!
Not to dive too deeply into earnestness and romance, but as soon as I stop to think about how much this election matters to so many people I feel stomach drop and my head get light.
I always thought that by the time I made it to this election, I would be so old and my life would be so strange.
My life is certainly strange, but I feel young. I wish I could eat the days up with a spoon.

Hey there–quick question.

If Obama were an evil terrorist that’s part of a vast conspiracy vying to destroy America from within–why didn’t he choose a more inconspicuous alias?

That is all.

Why am I interested in politics?

Is it just to elevate myself above the idiocy of (in Joan Didion’s words) “sound-bite” politics by maintaining ironic distance? Am I trying to assert some sort of superiority by reveling in the aesthetics of the political circus?

Anyway, I know that I’m not supposed to like Obama. I know there’s something tacky about being partisan–that it’s a way of exposing foolishness and naivete. That maybe the only way to respond to the election is the same that I respond reality tv, with fascination and skepticism, like a spectacle; with the condescending fondness otherwise reserved for Tyra Banks.

Of course, skepticism is necessary. No leader–no individual–should be treated with messianic reverence. Blind faith is reserved for lovers (and the protagonist of any good love story eventually suffers as a result), not for our public figures.

Any authority should be treated with a certain degree of derision: the inherent narcissism of running for office is why most politicians are self-selected jerks. We need ironic distance because we need to prove that it’s hard to pull the wool over our eyes; we don’t want to be fools.

But will there be no visionary heroes for our generation? Martin Luther King Jr. is mourned, Gloria Steinem held up in contempt: are only the dead treated with respect?

I can’t think of a single living person that could be praised without an astrisk appended to their name. And of course, I don’t believe in saints–but isn’t anyone good enough?

But I do wish that I could let myself be excited about the election, to acknowledge that an Obama victory would be monumental. I wish I could be earnest for a moment…

Haha, Powell’s a racist for endorsing Obama!

“Secretary Powell says his endorsement is not about race,” Limbaugh wrote in an email. “OK, fine. I am now researching his past endorsements to see if I can find all the inexperienced, very liberal, white candidates he has endorsed. I’ll let you know what I come up with.” [via Open Left]

I so love politics.

I came across this lovely little weekly column called Worst Cable Content of the Week, featured on the Parents Televison Council website.

They post videos and detailed descriptions of (mostly sexual) “offensive” content.

I’m totally jealous of whatever mom gets paid to sit around all day watching the “naughty shows” and eating bonbons while little Johnny’s at soccer practice.

I feel kind of dirty writing about this, but I can’t help it.

Conversation with my father, turned to politics inevitably. It started politely, my father expressing his dissatisfaction with both candidates, me murmuring sympathetically and offering up a few Obama talking points.

“But Daddy,” I said, “you must at least appreciate the fact that Obama is a genuine meritocrat.”

“A meritocrat? He’s a product of affirmative action, and so is his wife.”

Ok. Ok. Fine. I get it. My dad is also a meritocrat; he moved to the US and built a successful life for himself. He feels that somebody else got an advantage that he didn’t. This is too sensitive an issue for me to argue.

“Well, you must at least admit that he’s done a great job managing his campaign without the benefit of ‘affirmative action,’” I offered.

“He’s not the one directing the campaign! There’s a campaign manager!”

“Right. David Axelrod has worked closely with Obama for years, he–”

“Yes! David Axelrod! Obama benefited from the great mind of Axelrod the Jew!”

Anyway.

The conversation kind of spiraled downhill from there. I feebly noted Obama’s well-recieved memoir, and my father noted that lots of people can author books–but that doesn’t mean that they should be President. (“Some people might even like those romantic little novellas you write!”)

He told me that Palin clearly won the Vice-Presidential debates–”look how many people tuned in!”–and that she’s the only one of all four principals with any executive experience. And considering the fact that Clinton won 18 million votes, McCain wisely chose a white female running mate.

I told him that recent polls showed that McCain is losing to Obama against white blue collar women by 8 points, and my dad told me that there’s too many polls out there. And that they don’t matter.

He did concede that the Democrats will ultimately be better for us, that Bush mangled the economy and that it would be a relief to get the country out of his hands. And that alone–Bush’s ineptitude–might be Obama’s sole accomplishment. (Yes, I’m translating, but ‘accomplishment’ is seriously the word he used. Being the first Black president of the Harvard Law Review, or being a Senator, or writing a critically-acclaimed bestseller–these things are all so “ordinary” and unexceptional. I can only hope to accomplish as little as Obama.)

My father is, by all accounts, a bright, cultured individual. He was an artist! He went to film school! He’s read real books! He lives in Chicago! He’s from (Eastern) Europe!

But, he gets his news from Fox and he comes from the Soviet Union and–I hate to say it–sometimes I get the feeling that only reason he doesn’t disparage “the Jews” is because he married one.

And it may be tacky and gauche to exploit my very wonderful father for this stupid blog–and pro-Obama outrage is even tackier–but I figure that I can get away with it just once, since no one actually reads this anyway.

I think it’s sweet that I’m still shocked when confronted with a world doesn’t work like this vacuum I’ve been inhabiting, where Fox News clips come framed in pithy “liberal” rhetoric.

And anyway, my Dad’s opinions are pretty irrelevant. He’s not voting at all, and if he were to–he’d be voting in Chicago. Not like McCain’s gained any ground there. Or anywhere.

I could go on to tell you all about my father’s views on Bill Ayers and Reverend Wright and “that wife.” And about all of Palin’s energy reform in Alaska, about how “she hasn’t spent 20 years in Washington, so of course she can’t name a [single] Supreme Court case.” That Obama can only read an adage from a teleprompter, and even if he can articulate his economic plan at a debate–it’s only because he’s had months to practice into the mirror.

But seriously, I might cry.

I realize that reading about this election got me through the summer, and it’s been getting me through every day this semester. Political blogs are the only thing that calm me down at night when I get anxious.

As excited as I am to see how this all turns out, I’m going to be completely heartbroken on November 5th–no matter who wins.

What will I do without the election? I can only hope there will a nationwide culture war to keep me entertained.