I Voted Anvil. How’s Your Headache?

I voted Anvil.

My goal, after assessing the entire field of GOP and Democrat candidates last year, was that NONE of them were worth a damn. I had some respect for a couple of GOPers (who were of course drummed out early in the process), and otherwise only for Sanders — whose politics are nearly diametrically opposed to mine. He, of the entire lot, struck me as the only person who believed what he said (and who also was being given a chance to say it).

Therefore I determined I would vote only for a candidate whose nomination sent a message to their party: Reform or Die.

That meant Trump or Sanders. If both made it, I was committed to flipping a coin. Had one all picked out, too.

But I was denied that peculiar joy, by Hillary Clinton’s shenanigans and those of the Democratic (hah!) National Committee. Now Trump stands amid the ashes of one of the nastiest, most negative campaigns I have ever seen run in the United States, and I can’t even reasonably assign him an equal share without engaging the Golden Mean Fallacy.

No, in reality, he was magnanimous enough to offer Clinton a genuine compliment when asked by a debate audience member — he called her “tough”, a “fighter”. She snarked back that the only thing good about him was his kids, AND THEN MADE THE QUESTION ABOUT HER.

Democrats had someone I could at least not have felt bad about voting for. Someone I was, literally, willing to give a chance. But fuck no. Fuck that. Because this shitty god-damned political tribalism which puts Bushes and Clintons in the lineup whenever they ask, and which fights tooth and nail to get them in there no matter what… only Trump was able to beat them. And he beat them in BOTH parties.

Reform, or Die.

Trump 2020.

 

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