I have to confess: I'm absolutely terrified. I don't know what I'm going to do if the worst happens, and I have bad experiences with the ole U.S. of A. My father is cynical, my crazy liberal Vermont friend says there's no chance of the worst happening. Everyone in my residence has had literal, vivid nightmares and woken up in cold sweats. Meanwhile in my hydrology class I'm learning about the world literally collapsing around our ears. The status quo can't go on and I, the daughter of a post-communist credo, am tempted toward anarchy. Yes we can? We had better be able to. Because we already ran out of time. Maybe it's not visible in the Hollister-filled shopping malls of suburbia and the Gossip Girl on television, but time is out. The country's forests, lakes, and farmlands are dying, the Dow Jones is like a piece of sodden, rotting meat splayed to bits on Wall Street, all around the country and the world regular people are being, what is it, left behind. I'm not a weatherman, but I can sense the wind in my face and it's a gale-force hurricane.
I'm not naive. I know that a change in presidency won't fix everything and it'll take a whole lot of work to fix anything. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't matter. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin', that if this man doesn't win on Tuesday:
I may be tempted to go the way of
the Clash.
