I’m not going to be watching tonight. My wife and son will be, but me? I’m around the corner to a bar with the ballgame on.
I’m a wimp. I’ll admit it. I can’t take the debates anymore. I get too pissed off; I get scared; I get enraged…you get the idea. I’d rather follow on my phone, switching between the Balloon Juice thread and Twitter, and maybe the Guardian liveblog.
My goal — to get to sleep tonight before two or three, having dodged the useless-replay that I’ve found myself pacing through for hours before I actually get to sleep.
So, this is just to create a thread for those who want to rage, rage against the
dying of the light endless derp of modern media, and to offer a little distraction.
Which would be this. I heard it on the radio today just before I headed off to the dentist to confirm the horrible suspicion that the howling pain in my molar meant (another) root canal (tomorrow at 4, thanks for asking).
I’ve always loved this song, but for some reason it seemed so on point to this election. It certainly put me in a better mood than I had any right (or inclination) to hope for — and maybe it’ll do the same for some of you, mes sembables, mes frères (et soeurs).
It doesn’t make me feel like the media will ever do its job — I just heard a clip on the local Boston public broadcasting station in which New York Times reporter (of course) Farah Stockman rather giddily proclaimed that this election wasn’t about facts or policy or any of that stuff (in a segment seemingly decrying the calls for fact checking the debate) but about fear.
Well, if so, oh Main Stream Media stalwart, it is because you and your stunningly less clever than they think they are colleagues have allowed it to become so.
So yeah. Bare Naked Ladies beat our elite political press any day and twice on Sundays. Enjoy, and say what you will below.