Favorite

Tomorrow 

By the time you read this, let's hope, it will be over. We put that "hope" in there to pour one out for our homies lost in The Battle of Hanging Chad in Election 2000, when over a hundred million votes and who would hold the most powerful office in the world came down to a handful of nimrods who couldn't fully push a stylus through a piece of paper in Florida. We love the Redneck Rivera, Florida, but don't screw this up for us this time. Seriously.

No matter how it all turns out, it's done for another year. All the political signs on their way to be used as insulation for chicken coops as God intended, all the attack ads that made life like the world's longest spookhouse henceforth seen only by political science students, all the polling places gone back to being schools and churches and quiet firehouses where the company Dalmatian sleeps on the seat of the ladder truck, waiting for the bell. The Observer can't quite say good riddance to it all. Every four years, we get to experience the great spectacle of Americans actually caring for a moment about politics, as beautiful, in its way, as wildebeest migrations on the African savanna, or a capybara being slowly swallowed by an anaconda. Can you tell from that crack about the anaconda that The Observer is well and truly done with Election 2016?

Don't let us bring you down, Dear Voter, especially when Dorito Mussolini just lost the presidential election, thus denying a hair-trigger demagogue with authoritarian fascist tendencies command of a $500 billion per year military, an electronic surveillance state that can know in 10 keystrokes or less what time you took a deuce this morning, and enough nukes to turn Earth into a lifeless cinder ... we hope. Outlook unclear, our Magic 8-Ball says, try again later. As we write this, it's still all up to you, America. Hope you made the right decision.

If it goes the way we pray, this country (and probably the world) will have done a rail grind on the edge of a very dark abyss. No matter who wins, we no longer get to smugly say, "It can't happen here," because it has happened here now. We further know that if a large portion of this country doesn't do something to turn the ship away from the iceberg of enmity, it's going to happen again and again until it happens all the way. And then you've got Hitler with access to surveillance satellites, drone warfare and stealth bombers.

This is assuming a lot, of course, writing this as The Observer is on the morning of Election Day, the sky outside our window as gray as a wool overcoat. It assumes that, as you read this, we are not all spending our first day in Orangemerica, the haters vindicated and jubilant; the chants for a beeyouteeful wahl ringing in the streets; the 10 percenters on the march under their confusing flourish of American and Confederate flags; the talk of Dorito's political opponent being jailed or worse rising up from the haymows and little towns like a craven prayer; all the decent, hardworking, desperate people who supported him in the hope he will bring back their job on the factory floor not yet knowing they've been bamboozled by the best. From the safety or wreck of tomorrow, Dear Reader, witness The Observer's fear this Election Day morning, as we sit here knowing the state we love will cleave to a sexist, racist, barely coherent Vladimir Putin fanboy by 15 percentage points or more.

Even if the vision visited upon us by The Ghost of Election Day Future doesn't come to pass, we worry strange creatures have been loosed from chaos to stalk the land for years, plotting and scheming until they find someone smarter, less rash, more polished, less flawed, but with all the same terrible marbles rolling around in his head. But we'll worry about that later. Right now, we're thinking about Wednesday. Good luck, America. We'll see who you are tomorrow.

Favorite

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Readers also liked…

  • I'm sorry

    I'm sorry we stood by while your generation's hope was smothered by $1.3 trillion in student loan debt, just because you were trying to educate yourselves enough to avoid falling for the snake oil and big talk of a fascist.
    • Nov 17, 2016
  • Addendum

    he Observer has our regrets, just like everybody else. For example: last week, Yours Truly published a cover story on the increasingly ugly fight over Eureka Springs' Ordinance 2223, which is designed to protect a bunch of groups — including LGBTQ people — from discrimination in housing, employment, accommodations, cake buying, browsing, drinking, gut stuffery, knickknack purchasing, general cavorting, funny postcard mailing and all the other stuff one tends to get up to in the weirdest, friendliest, most magical little town in the Ozarks.
    • Apr 30, 2015
  • Snake stories

    The Observer's boss, Uncle Alan, is something of a gentleman farmer on his spread up in Cabot, growing heirloom tomatoes and watermelons and crops of chiggers on property that looks like the perfect farmstead Lenny and George often fantasized about in "Of Mice and Men."
    • Aug 27, 2015

Most Shared

  • World leaders set to meet in Little Rock on resource access and sustainable development

    Next week a series of meetings on the use of technology to tackle global problems will be held in Little Rock by Club de Madrid — a coalition of more than 100 former democratic former presidents and prime ministers from around the world — and the P80 Group, a coalition of large public pension and sovereign wealth funds founded by Prince Charles to combat climate change. The conference will discuss deploying existing technologies to increase access to food, water, energy, clean environment, and medical care.
  • Tomb to table: a Christmas feast offered by the residents of Mount Holly and other folk

    Plus, recipes from the Times staff.
  • Rapert compares Bill Clinton to Orval Faubus

    Sen. Jason Rapert (R-Conway)  was on "Capitol View" on KARK, Channel 4, this morning, and among other things that will likely inspire you to yell at your computer screen, he said he expects someone in the legislature to file a bill to do ... something about changing the name of the Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport.
  • Fake news

    So fed up was young Edgar Welch of Salisbury, N.C., that Hillary Clinton was getting away with running a child-sex ring that he grabbed a couple of guns last Sunday, drove 360 miles to the Comet Ping Pong pizzeria in Washington, D.C., where Clinton was supposed to be holding the kids as sex slaves, and fired his AR-15 into the floor to clear the joint of pizza cravers and conduct his own investigation of the pedophilia syndicate of the former first lady, U.S. senator and secretary of state.
  • Reality TV prez

    There is almost nothing real about "reality TV." All but the dullest viewers understand that the dramatic twists and turns on shows like "The Bachelor" or "Celebrity Apprentice" are scripted in advance. More or less like professional wrestling, Donald Trump's previous claim to fame.

Latest in The Observer

  • The sweet hereafter

    This week, the Arkansas Times falls back on that oldest of old chestnuts: a recipe issue. Being who we are, of course, we had to put a twist on that; namely, the fact that most of the recipes you'll find in these pages are courtesy of people who have shuffled off to that great kitchen in the sky, where the Good Lord is always whipping up new things in his toque and apron, running the great mixers of genetics and time, maybe presenting the batter-dipped beaters and bowls to Jesus for a lick down.
    • Dec 8, 2016
  • Writers blocked

    OK, back to basics, Observer. Get hold of yourself. Give the people what they want, which is escapism! If you don't, this column is eventually just going to devolve into The Prophecies of Hickstradamus at some point in the next four years: "The Orange Vulture perches in the fig tree. The great snake eats Moonpies and Royal Crown Cola by starlight ..." That kind of thing. Nobody likes that. Too much deciphering and such.
    • Dec 1, 2016
  • Cassandra

    The Observer's grandfather on our mother's side was a crackerjack fella. Grew up in the sandy hills north of Conway. County boy, through and through. During hog-killing time in December 1941, the story in our family goes, when word of Pearl Harbor reached his little community, he and his friends loaded into his T-model truck and made the rough journey to the first speck of civilization that included an Army recruiting office, where they all enlisted.
    • Nov 24, 2016
  • More »

Visit Arkansas

View Trumpeter Swans in Heber Springs

View Trumpeter Swans in Heber Springs

Magness Lake, in Heber Springs, is a magnet for swans

Event Calendar

« »

December

S M T W T F S
  1 2 3
4 5 6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15 16 17
18 19 20 21 22 23 24
25 26 27 28 29 30 31

Most Viewed

Most Recent Comments

 

© 2016 Arkansas Times | 201 East Markham, Suite 200, Little Rock, AR 72201
Powered by Foundation