Last November, I wrote about the Stink Vote — how I wish we could tell the candidates,
Okay, you get my ballot, but you need to know that you are not fooling me for one second. You need to know that I will vote for you because your stench isn’t quite as stenchy as the guy from the Stench Party.
But just because I voted for you, that doesn’t mean I think you smell all right. You don’t get my trust, you don’t get my support, you don’t get my approval. All you get is my stinking stink vote.
This year, for the primary? Well, I wrote today’s Register post “Eight Things to Cheer You Up On This Terrible, Terrible Day” yesterday, and I started with the words, “I voted today,” assuming I would do just that today. I drove up to the polling place this morning. I slowed down.
But I did not stop the car.
Couldn’t get myself to do it. No matter how I figured it, there was no possible way to cast a vote in a way that would not make me feel like I’d made life worse for everyone. If I could have submitted an angry essay in lieu of a vote, I would have done it. But vote for any of those guys, even to keep the other ones out? Even I, the missionary of mediocrity, couldn’t do it. Instead, I went home and made some meatloaf. I think that was more productive than anything else anyone else in NH will do today.