I lost my innocence on a bygone Tuesday; the inevitable all transpiring on a chilly, rainy, autumnal afternoon; while secreted within a dinky, fluorescent lit chamber; the essential privacy assured by a set of drab, opaque, expeditiously closed curtains.
Although such words do sound a tad suggestive, it’s… ahem… not what you’re thinking.
I speak of, yet, another rite of passage; my voting booth rendezvous with the Real America; specifically, my very first opportunity to actively participate in a presidential election; select the best leader to preserve, protect and defend each and every righteous value, which the United States is supposed to stand for.
On my drive home from City Hall, I found myself basking in the afterglow; feeling keenly aware of my newfound, full-fledged grown-up stature; harboring, within my head and heart, an unshakable sensation of empowerment; a heightened awareness of my cherished, inalienable rights and freedoms; the likes of which had oft been hard won / secured for posterity, upon bygone battlefields, by our selfless ancestors.
So, what has suddenly caused such fond recollections to resurface?
The fact that what was once thought, unthinkable, is now actually being considered; as I type and as you read these words.
Be my compatriots cognizant or clueless, We the People are all facing down the all too real prospect of our being stripped, naked, of our voting rights. And once those are shot to hell, ditto our unclad condition re all the rest of our Constitutional rights, too.
And, as one would expect, once in the altogether, the accompanying chill goes down one’s spinal column and surges outward to every raw nerve ending in the body.
More to the point…
For the first time, in our nearly two and one half century history, the fate of America, the once-upon-a-time Bastion of Democracy, is now up for grabs; that grotesque power-grab at the hands of our homeland’s, in title only, president. The freakin’ prez, no less, who, if our electorate’s cast ballots do wind up firing his ass, will not commit to a peaceful, orderly transition of power. Hell, he’ll flat-out refuse to vacate his oval digs! Un-freakin-believable!
And that un-American will stop at nothing to retain his chokehold on power.
That totalitarian already has, on retainer, a battalion of unethical lawyers; rabid, foaming at the mouth, mouthpieces who are already chomping at the bit to present his cockamamie theory of voter fraud; trot out his totally unfounded, unsubstantiated case before a phalanx of his handpicked appointed, anointed federal judicial charlatans; inclusive of his six obsequious “supremes”; three of whom are absolutely beholden to him.
Little doubt these, in title only, judges, if still in possession of their souls, would sell them in a heartbeat (i.e., if they ever had hearts), to the highest bidder.
Even if he cannot overthrow America non-violently, that won’t stop him. He’s been rolling out his subversive back-up plan, right on the campaign trail; egging on his armed to the teeth private army of ass kissers; barking out his marching orders to his infantry of infants, who’ll spill out into the streets with a vengeance. We are talking about an all out Civil War, where these bloodthirsty Nazis and Klansmen will go on a mass murdering rampage to burn America down to the ground.
Our ballot box could be real Americans’ one last chance to oust that subversive bastard. What remains to be seen is whether or not there will be enough clearheaded voters who perceive Donald J. Trump to be the existential threat that he is. And, if so, if the will of We, the Good People will prevail.
My acute awareness of such ugliness, pretty much sums up what motivated me to complete and hand deliver my absentee ballot this past Wednesday.
On my drive home from City Hall, I was feeling the passion, anew, even more than I had following My First Time; for I was, indeed, voting like it would be My Last Time.
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