On primaries.
I hate primaries. I hate conventions. I hate contests that pit Democrats against Democrats, or even Republicans against Republicans.
I hate them like I hate green beans, squash, and those nasty vitamins that Amber makes me take. I know they’re good for me, but that won’t make me like them.
As a blogger, I find them paralyzing, divisive, awkward, and unpleasant. They turn rational people into extremists. They create an us and a them, and never the twain shall meet.
I’m glad that the 5th District primary is over. I’ve known Bern Ewert for years, and I’ve known Al Weed for many more years. I like both men, and I felt ill-equipped to select between the two, or even to assist others in making that decision. I told both men that I’d focus my attention on Rep. Virgil Goode and stay out of their contest, and I’m awfully glad I did.
The Senate primary grinds onward towards its June conclusion. I dare not write about it, lest the hordes descend upon me and pick the metaphorical flesh from my bones. No longer content to let the candidates do battle, each man’s supporters have taken up arms against their one-time allies, unnecessarily personalizing the political and damaging what may be (or may have been) lifelong relationships.
So screw it. It’s not worth it. I don’t care enough. Friendship is more important to me. Life’s too short for this. There’s going to be a primary, I’m going to vote however I vote, I’ll probably say nice things about the nominee and maybe hand out some literature or something. Maybe at some point I’ll make some sort of endorsement, but I can’t see why anybody ought to care about for whom I intend to vote. What the hell do I know?
Damn, I miss the trail.
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