An Open Letter to Our President Elect

Dear Mr. Barack Obama,

I'm reading the news lately, and I'm noticing: people have some high fucking expectations where you're concerned. Even though we haven't yet struggled out from beneath the slow moving plague of shock and appall that was the presidency of George W. Bush, the American people are somehow of the belief that you're already well on your way to revitalizing the economy, solving the foreclosure crisis, curing AIDS, feeding every hungry child- and healthily, so as not to contribute to the obesity epidemic, finding homes for the abandoned pets in every animal shelter, eliminating the clusterfuck that is the BCS,removing heinous musicians from the airwaves, giving everyone a hybrid car by next Christmas and renaming all of Sarah Palin's children.

That's a lot of pressure, man. Especially considering that you recently had to move halfway across the country, your two (adorable and seemingly delightfully well mannered) daughters have to start at a new school, you're looking for a new pet and I'm sure your wife is totally stressed out about what to wear to Inauguration, considering the debacle that was her Election Night frock. (I'm not suggesting that's all Michelle is stressed out about - I'm positive she's stressed about all of the above, combined with the uncertainties of her new role and I'm sure some conflicted reluctance about the sacrifice of her own career - I have a lot of respect for Michelle Obama. I'm just saying - it's one more thing on top of a really huge pile.)

So, dear President Elect - I know I'm just one girl, and you likely won't hear me above the chorus of millions chanting their love, admiration and oh yes - their demands - at you, but if you can hear me, listen: it's all going to be ok. You're fucking awesome. Enjoy your party. People really love you, and if they're a little too insistent about everything, it's only because we've all been starving for so long, and in a lot of people's eyes, you represent the feast of what we've been missing for the past eight years/forever. We're excited.

I say - chill for a minute. Take the rest of January to settle in. Take February too, if you need it - it's a short month, and nothing really important happens. It's freezing in one half of the world, and the other half is on vacation because it's end of their summer. All that shit will still be here when you're ready to take it all on in March. In the meantime, I'll work on tempering everyone's insane expectations. Like seriously, you're not going to be able to get Nickelback roasted over a rotisserie spit on live television. That's fascism shit, you don't have that kind of power. But deportation? Maybe. It's all about managing expectations. No, no, you don't have to thank me, I'm happy to do it, really.

But if you could - tell Michelle I think she'd look divine in something long, and steel-grey blue with very simple lines. Or a maroon/purple hue. Just a suggestion.

Punch Your Chad

In the state of Massachusetts, yesterday was the last day to register to vote in the upcoming election. If you did not at least mail in a voter registration form:

a) You can't complain when they eliminate the state income tax because everyone is an IDIOT and afraid of being poor for nine minutes. Like, really? Don't you people understand where that money goes? It adds up. It's 40 percent of the state budget. We need it to like, PAY FOR EVERYTHING. Oh, your kids don't need textbooks? That's awesome. No, I guess you're right. The TV news is the same. Oh, what was that? The tv's in the classrooms don't work? No, there's no money to fix them. You took it home with you and spent it on like, Applebee's and trucker hats and a new weedwacker or whatever you retards will do with the extra $200 you get. Awesome. Also, enjoy explaining to the kids why Rocky the class hamster froze to death because they turn off the heat in the classroom at night. Those potholes are sweet, too. Sorry about your axle.

b) You can't complain when there are no police to protect you from the actual crime happening on your street, because they're all busy busting homeless people and Suffolk students buying weed from that weird guy in the Common with his pant leg rolled up.

c) You can't complain when there's one less random thing to do on Tuesday night because Wonderland has been closed. Now, I know not everyone spent a considerable portion of their childhood at the dog track and therefore don't have the same fuzzy nostalgia for them as I do, but seriously, before you climb all up on your soapbox and annoy the shit out of me with your diatribe on how dog racing is wrong, and cruel, and barbaric, let me save you the trouble: shut up. It's not. Yes, it can be, certainly, and has been, absolutely but you can make that exact same point about every industry: entertainment or otherwise. And have you ever been to the dog track? No? Then let me inform you: it's fun as hell. Aside from the gambling - which is why most people go, I realize, but is actually about my sixth favorite element of the experience - there's cheap beer, and weird food, and it's one of the few places in the state where smoking is still totally acceptable (no Mom, I don't go there to socially smoke, I'm just saying. It's an option.). Plus, it is some of the best people watching EVER. Rich white dudes just out of work, old men who have clearly been there all day, and will return tomorrow, little old ladies, drunk Revere townies, hippie kids, homeless-looking individuals of indeterminate age in sweatpants...I LOVE the dogtrack. Please don't take that from me.

d) You are an asshat. Seriously, just fucking vote. It's not hard.

WWPJD?

The election is making my head hurt. Every day I am in front of Brian Williams, his giant head all up in my living room delivering the nightly news, and I am saying "Why, Brian Williams? WHY? I am SO CONFUSED. Why does nobody care that the nutty Alaskan bitch couldn't win a seat on the PTA in most communities and that old man is obviously senile for appointing her and he is CLEARLY GOING TO DIE IN THE NOT SO DISTANT FUTURE AND THEN WE WILL HAVE A PRESIDENT WHO THINKS DINOSAURS AND PEOPLE ROAMED THE EARTH AT THE SAME TIME SO CAN YOU HELP ME UNDERSTAND HOW THIS IS HAPPENING BRIAN WILLIAMS, CAN YOU PLEASE?????"

And Brian Williams just gives me this look like, "No, kk, I can't. My head hurts, too. The physically inexplicable white rings beneath my eyes that you've been obsessing over for the better part of the last decade are even duller and less snowy-hued, haven't you noticed? I'm doing my best, I swear. I wake up every morning, and I look at my glorious coif in the mirror, and I say to myself: "Brian Williams - what would Peter Jennings do?" And then I think "JESUS CHRIST, Peter Jennings never had to deal with this shit. Peter Jennings had Nixon and Nam and the crack epidemic and Reaganomics and Bill Clinton and I have RETARDS IN THE OVAL OFFICE AND LARGE SCALE WEATHER DISASTERS AND AN IMPENDING ECONOMIC COLLAPSE AND OK MAYBE THIS IS A GREAT TIME TO BE A JOURNALIST AND MAYBE I'M JUST FREAKING OUT BECAUSE IT'S A LOT OF PRESSURE TO ENDEAR YOURSELF TO THE NATION AS A TRUSTED NEWS SOURCE AND I DON'T KNOW HOW PETER DID IT ALL AND STILL HAD TIME FOR HIS FAMILY, NEVER MIND A BALANCED DIET AND NOW I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND WHY HE SMOKED BUT THAT'S ALSO WHAT KILLED HIM, AND I'M JUST REALLY STRESSED OUT, OK, KATIE?"

And then I'm like "Jesus, Brian Williams, I'm sorry. I didn't realize." And he's all "WELL NOW YOU DO."

And then the news is over and Entertainment Tonight comes on and I have to give myself a lobotomy before they start talking about Miley Cyrus and my face explodes.

Don't Be Loony, Vote for...

I don't want to talk about the election. Because if I start talking about the election, I'll eventually get down to sort-of endorsing someone, and I don't want to do that. As a feminist, I should be really, totally stoked that I have the option of voting for a female president - which I am, in many ways. But the reality is that I'm now a disgruntled feminist (yes, there are other kinds) because here we are, with a lady on the ticket...and I don't like her.

So? I'm going to endorse my own candidate.

George Clooney.

I am 100% serious. George Clooney would be the best president ever. Americans have shown that they're totally ok with an actor in the Oval Office, and I think everyone can agree that George Clooney is a way better actor than Reagan. Plus, he's not a snitch.

George Clooney has done his time in the trenches of his profession. This shows us he is not afraid to work hard. He appeared in Return of the Killer Tomatoes. This shows us he doesn't take himself too seriously. He also had a reoccurring role on The Facts of Life. This shows us that he is human, and had bad hair in the 80's, just like everyone else.

Foreign dignitaries like George Clooney. George Clooney owns property in Italy, and can interact with people from other cultures without behaving as if he has entered an interactive zoo exhibit. George Clooney is making a movie to raise awareness in Darfur. Has our president been to Darfur? Can he find it on a map? Does he own a map?

George Clooney is a man of the people. He was once a carpenter (like Jesus! If that's your thing). He eats dinner with lowly reporters and locates the faulty carbon monoxide detectors in their apartments by scrambling around in their crawlspaces (I know this because I saw it last night on E News. Yes, sometimes I watch E News after I watch the regular news. Sometimes I need to. It's like a current events chaser.). George Clooney is pro-union. When the writers were striking, he explicitly stated that he would not cross their picket line, even at the Oscar's. And he is nominated for an Oscar.

George Clooney is intelligent, charismatic, grounded, charmingly self-deprecating, and has enough cash to finance his own campaign. George Clooney is also exceptionally attractive. This means that people will vote for him even if they have no idea why. This means that people who would otherwise not vote for anyone will leave their homes on election night and vote for George Clooney. This also, conversely, means that people who become pissed off when they witness the uninformed masses flocking to the polls to vote for George Clooney, will become inspired, and will themselves go out and vote, just to make their individual voices heard above the Clooney Chorus. In this way, George Clooney will have increased participation in the democratic process. Can George Clooney do no wrong?

That was a really great argument.

George, if you're interested, I will happily sign on as your assistant campaign manager in charge of visual aids. I've never made buttons or drafted nifty slogans before, but I could bedazzle the crap out of any campaign paraphernalia you send my way.