Cashmere, on living in a swing state, the weekend before the 2004 election:
Note to self: Turn off the fucking teevee until Tuesday night when you're watching The Daily Show.
I can't take any more political commercials. Give me a hemorrhoid cream commercial, an ad for a medication that will treat some particularly vile sexually transmitted disease or a tampon commercial. Bring back the mobile phone marketing, the fast food panderers and the Gap ads. I want my television to cater to my untapped desires and my secret medical problems. Please, for the love of all that's holy, SET MY TELEVISION FREE!!!!
Alibelle:
Hahaha. These stories are awesome. Should I admit that one of my great great great great great great great great (is that the right number? It should be 8) grandfathers was Alexander Hamilton? Or that one of my (10 greats) grandfathers was William Bradford (of the Mayflower)? I really wish at least someone in my very interesting family had been in it for the money. Like the guy who was one of the co-founders of Coca Cola, but who got mad at his friend and partner, and decided to punish him by just giving him all the shares in the company. Or my relatives in the south who decided that cotton wasn't going to be a big seller, and they were going to get into the horse business instead. (ETA: And then they proceeded to raise rather lackluster horses.)
Instead they were all really fiscally irresponsible, and gave away any chance for a fortune that came along. I would really like a trust fund. So, alas, the family is filled with a bunch of poor genealogists, instead.
Nilly:
Also, there seems to be too many doubled letters in the word "committee", like the letters themselves are having one.
The Buffista Credo,
whether they intended it to be or not:
Trudy Booth
We don't intend to frighten nuns.
Cybervixen
Nope. It just kinda happens.
Kalshane, on the topic of smooshing fireflies:
I remember yelling at one of my friends in righteous indignation the first time he did that when we were 12 or so. Unfortunately within about 5 minutes he managed to turn me to the Dark Side (which in this case was the glowing smeary side).
From Bitches:
Hecubus:
JZ almost had magic sharpie issues. One poll worker assured her that JZ's own marker would suffice, but the head poll worker looked mildly aghast that anything other than an Official Magic Sharpie might possibly work. However, the machine approved her ballot with green light boops and all was well.
Betsy:
The boops make me happy. They tell me that I have not screwed up my ballot.
David:
It's like you're personally validated by R2D2. R2D2 should've been an analyst.
"I realized this week that my mother is really controlling and I need to assert myself and take control of my life."
"Boop."
erika
Hec, and sometimes he could do that sad whistle thing. You know the one.
Betsy:
Yeah, but you know I'd feel obliged to test it. "I have always hated cylindrical objects and it is my new mission to eliminate them from the world."
"Boop."
Ha.
JohnSweden:
"I have always hated cylindrical objects and it is my new mission to eliminate them from the world."
"BWWEEEEEEP! BoooWEEP-woo. boop."
Betsy:
Or, if you toggled him into Swedish Chef mode,
"Ningayingafinga BWWWEEEP! Yarlydarly BooWEEP-booo. Uff da!"
Natter, on possible voting developments:
Trudy:
There should be a cheesy country song for this feeling.
Steph:
"My Heart Doesn't Feel Quite So Crushed Under the Bootheel of the GOP."
tommyrot:
This is what's gonna happen later tonight: Bush will be talking to Carl Rove in the White House. Bush says, "You have failed me for the last time, Carl." Carl screams and runs. He hides in a dark room. But bush uses the heat-sensing pits on his face to locate Carl in complete darkness. Bush unhinges his lower jaw and opens his mouth 180 degrees. Next he expands his mouth, throat and gullet as he swallows Carl whole. Bush then spends the rest of his administration laying around the White House, digesting.
