A little post-election reflection

SCENE: Wednesday, Nov. 8, 2006, lunchtime, kitchen table.

“Daddy, why were you dancing and clapping?”

“Well, remember yesterday when you and Jayna went with me and Mommy to vote?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the people who we voted for, and the people who we were hoping other people would vote for, got the most votes.”

“… [blink] … ”

“Because the good guys won and the bad guys lost, pal.”

“All right! High-five, Daddy!”

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Destination: Hell. Mode of travel: Handbasket.

It is election day. The future of our country hangs in the balance. The outcome will determine which party holds sway in Congress … and, therefore, the direction the nation will take during the next few years.

I subscribe to CNN.com’s email alerts, which they send out when an important news story breaks. They are surprisingly restrained in their use of these alerts; many days often pass without a single one arriving in my inbox. In fact, they have so far dispatched only one such alert on this momentous day. It reads as follows:

Britney Spears files for divorce from her husband Kevin Federline, citing irreconcilable differences.

Consider this Exhibit A in a presentation I’m working on titled “Why We’re All Completely Fucked.”

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Jayna: 1 year 3 months

Jayna vs. static electricity

Dear Jayna,

I’m sorry for skipping your last couple of letters—not only because I simply feel bad about not writing them, but also because my failure to write sooner has robbed you of letters that would have been comprised solely of my giddy raves about what a complete and utter delight you are from sunup till sundown. Unfortunately, I waited too long, and now your complete and utter delightfulness—which is still your predominant disposition—has become frequently interrupted by The Screaming.… [read the rest]

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Constipation, Day 4

Overheard just now …

Zan: Mommy, I don’t want to poop on the potty. I want to poop in my pull-up.

Mommy: Nope. You’re three now, and when you’re three, that means you need to go poop on the potty.

Zan: Mommy, when am I gonna turn back into two?

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Zan: 3 years 4 months

Zan @ the Cape, headshot, Aug. '06

Dear Zan,

This is the first “monthly” letter I have written to you since the one about your third birthday, and, while there are a number of reasons for my lengthy hiatus, chief among them is this: had I written to you during the first few months of your life as a 3-year-old, my correspondence would have read something like “AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”… [read the rest]

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