Election Day Post-Mortem

Now, 24 hours later, the gravity of last night still hasn't really sunken in for me. Of course, it was the topic of conversation all day today - most classes spent a significant portion of the class period, if not all of it, discussing the presidential election, the in-limbo Senate races, and the various ballot initiatives (Arkansas, really?!?). Still, inauguration day is a couple months away...and my heart ached to be back home in DC last night as the returns were coming in, as much as I loved watching the historic event with my classmates.

While lots of people went to smaller viewing parties at friends' homes, a bunch of people also watched the night's events at school. We had fruit, cookies, lemon bars, and abundant bottled water to get us through...I added a couple bottles of Mountain Dew, since it had already been a pretty long day (full disclosure: I didn't have class till 1, but woke up at 8:30 naturally...still, I made myself stay in bed till 11:30 because I knew I'd be a wreck otherwise). Most people were constantly refreshing CNN, MSNBC, FOX, and fivethirtyeight on their laptops - one girl's dad apparently works at CBS News, so he gave us the "insider" word that they were going to call it for Obama a couple minutes before 11. (Of course, we fivethirtyeight addicts already knew that PA/VA/OH - or any combination of two of the above, or maybe even just one - was going to be enough).

Celebration ensued. Interestingly, a TON of the LLM students were in attendance, and they seemed near the most excited! The African-American crew was also elated, as expected...but honestly I think the general population at school didn't see this as a "race thing" as much as a "human/national progress" thing [there are, of course, conservatives at school - a vocal minority, to be sure - but by this point in the night, most of them had realized what McCain's camp knew weeks ago: the man is old, Palin's a wacko, and Grant Park wasn't set up to be the location of a concession speech; moreover, nobody can deny the historic nature of the win].

There was champagne! Corks were popping! One bottle was apparently brought back after a failed attempt to celebrate in 2004.

We watched the speeches. I was misty-eyed the whole time, but I was crying unabashedly by the end. Oh, to be in that park...but the energy was still electric.

We walked home, my roommates and I, only to find along the way that a ton of the university's students had assembled on Old Campus to celebrate. They didn't get the same treatment as some kids in Baltimore did (Don't tase me!), but they were jubillant nonetheless - the enthusiasm was undeniable as people ran to greet one another and be a part of the hysteria.

Today, our professors were tired (they stayed up, too!), we were tired, and we uniformly hadn't done our reading as assigned...but it didn't seem to matter. There were lots of Obama t-shirts and stickers and buttons on display - some worn by those just now returning from their posts doing voter protection in key battleground states. We speculated about possible SCOTUS nominations...we debated the dress...and we were shocked that Ms. Palin apparently knows less about Africa than I know about moose hunting...but in the end, we still have writing assignments to attend to, resumes to revise for the impending summer job search, and sourcecites to do...

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Procrastination Leads to Political Action

I didn't make it to the group viewing of the debate at school tonight, but I caught the second half of the debate at home and followed it closely on Twitter. Then a college acquaintance of mine got angry about one of my (misinterpreted, on her part) tweets, and sent me an angry message on my Facebook wall. A few quick back-and-forths later, she realized I was NOT: a) insulting Michelle Obama or b) insulting Barack Obama. Well then.

On a rainy Friday night, what better to do post-debate than exercise some quasi-political views? A few days ago in the midst of my con law procrastination, I was paging through an issue of Marie Claire, which I generally find to be the most intelligent of the trashy women's magazines. That is, until I stumbled upon this gem of an article: How to Talk About Politics You Don't Really Understand - A shamelessly oversimplified cocktail-party guide to where the candidates stand on the big questions.

Some highlights:

YOUR SMARTY-PANTS SOUND BITE [about the War]
"Well, Iraq isn't the first time we've overestimated an enemy. Hello, NSC-68? The intelligence report that grossly misrepresented Russia's capabilities, jump-started the Cold War, and pushed us into a decades-long arms race? Duh."

YOUR SMARTY-PANTS SOUND BITE [about Energy]
"You know, in New Zealand, where sheep outnumber people 10 to 1, over half of greenhouse gases come from the country's 50 million livestock. If only they could harness all that methane . . . could you pass the bean dip?"

Now, I'm not the MOST politically-aware person out there; I'll admit, there are a LOT of issues that I should learn more about - taxes, the economy, and energy policy being just a few examples. But, c'mon...that last one isn't even coherent.

So, I wrote an angry e-mail to the editor:

Dear Marie Claire,

I am *extremely* disappointed with your article, How to Talk About Issues You Don't Really Understand (by Yael Kohen and Lauren Iannotti, pg. 122 - October 2008). Rather than giving your readers "smarty-pants sound [bites]," why not encourage them to learn more about the complicated and important issues up for debate in the election? If you really want to empower women to act intelligently within the political system, give them the tools to exercise their well-informed voice in the voting booth - NOT at a cocktail party.

To be perfectly frank, I am insulted that you would encourage women - even tongue-in-cheek - to use any of the lines in your article. A woman who hasn't thought critically about the differences between the candidates most likely has no idea who de Tocqueville or Keynes were, or the effects they have had on society. Please stop promoting the idea that women don't (or don't need to) care about the future of our country; we're the majority of the electorate, but we have no hope of being elected to the highest office in the land if we limit our political involvement to "[kicking] back, [mixing] up some cocktails, and [watching] the returns roll in." Maybe you could have given instructions for how to register to vote? No partying without pulling the lever first.

I'm never reading your magazine again.

And that, dear readers, is the extent of my productiveness for this Friday. Zero class reading done. Zero laundry done. Meh. That's what the real weekend is for, right?