Boiling the Barbarian

This election is almost over. No doubt, a lot of people are glad about that.

I didn't support Obama.

I voted for him. I am a Democrat.

I don't like many of his positions, I think his campaign was one of the most mean spirited I've ever seen, and some of his supporters are really ready for Thorazine, but all of that aside, he's our candidate and he will have to step up to the plate now. It is time for a change.

We're a nation of adventurers and gamblers so we roll the dice with Obama and if it comes up snake eyes, we'll try again in four years with Hillary. If we can take eight years of Bush, we can take anything.

From the news:

BLACK PANTHERS' BLOCK ACCESS TO VOTING STATION

Wow. Some of you must live in really mean neighborhoods. Here's what is going on in North Alabama:

People started lining up at 5:30 AM. When I got to the polls at 7:20, the lines were long and the cars were parked a mile away. We walked, we talked, we had a good time. In the lines, me and the two black women behind me joked about anyone hesitating inside the polling office (a church) should be immediately taken outside because after two years and a billion dollars, any one who still can't decide is not smart enough to vote.

We voted and headed out to Starbucks, Chick-fil-a, Krispy Kreme and Ben and Jerry's to get our freebies. Now it's back to work and life goes on better than before.

It's a bit of a party down here because everyone is glad it is over and glad to have the right to have our say.

America is Fabulous. Freedom to vote, freedom to be together, and free munchies. It doesn't get better than this.

So put down the bitter butter. You have your moment in the booth and then you have the rest of the day to enjoy it.

Why did I debate his supporters for months on end?

1. It was fun. Because I am a Southern White Male, I've been called names that would mean a fist fight in person. Life in the South is nothing like what the West Coasters make it out to be. After awhile, cultural stereotyping deserves a bit of nose tweaking and toe stomping. Having grown up in a town where only 15% of us were native Southerners and the rest are g---D---- Yankees who call us morons, well it becomes habitual.

Does the phrase "the pleasure of boiling the barbarian" mean anything to you?

2. Only by peering deeply into the darkness do our eyes ever open completely.

But today and for the last nine months, the blacks around me have been walking around with their heads up smiling. Today, I didn't see fear or loathing in their eyes when we joked. There was acceptance.

That can't be anything but good.

Sing it Ray! Let the good feelings wash over you.