Even with such a woefully low voter turnout, an election year allows us the luxury of fully immersing ourselves in the machinations of the best damn system in the whole world. Even with passions running high and civility at all-time lows, the spectacle of the slumbering beast of representative democracy shaking off the cobwebs is worth the price of admission. The lively debates inspired by utterly incompatible worldviews vying for Alpha Wolf status combines the essence of several peculiarly American institutions; rock'n' roll and professional wrestling. Yes folks, we have been privy to the bread and circuses of the 1990s--all-out, full contact, no-holds barred ideological combat on the main stage, and preening, posturing, family-values bloated oddities lining the midway. Certainly the best example of this jolly freak show atmosphere comes on election night, when the campaign soldiers of all parties come together to celebrate or commiserate, circled incessantly by the nattering nabobs and carrion buzzards of mass media.
It is this merry crucible in which all the knock-down drag-outs of the next few years are forged. It is a time for excess of both word and deed, yet it brings us all together like a big, dysfunctional family, just in time for a pre-Thanksgiving brawl. It puts us back in touch with each other, even if the proximity does nothing but set our opinions like epoxy. You want diversity? Go haunt the animal suites on election night and you will see the gag-inducing, heartwarming sight of Republican drinking with Democrat, Greenies chatting up Independence Party members and unaffiliated hangers-on annoying the rampaging hordes of journalists. The lure of politics is compounded by the age-old draw of free beer and cheap hors'd'oeuvres
Under the big top of American politics anything is possible. Bob Dole, The Human Cannonball, proved without a doubt that it is better to burn out than to fade away. Al Vezey cribbed his confrontational and arrogant personal style directly from Don Young's playbook, and both badgers strolled easily back to their dens. Theresa Obermeyer provided a populist jolt to her campaign by proving once and for all that any lunatic can follow the shining grail of public office to the twin cities of ridicule and obscurity. John Davies and Tom Brice came out ahead in their respective races, handily defeating Bonnie Williams and Bob "The Education Guy" Boko. Such suspenseful moments have not been experienced in the Interior since Fred Schikora ran a corporate big money campaign against Niilo Koponen back in 1988, before the redistricting threw a dollop of partisan chaos into the mix.
This was an election year of stories, not issues--and the stories were real doozies. Everybody jumped on the juvenile crime bandwagon, with Don Young proposing a reinstatement of the draft. Whatever happened to less government? Oh yeah, that's less government for business, but more in our private lives. Regressive legislation? Not our delegates! Psycho-environmentalist Priscilla Feral won big with the passage of the poorly worded and invasive proposition three. Lighten up lady, they're just big dogs anyway. "Dances With Wolves" done messed your mind up, dollface! I don't see your shocktroops picketing animal control shelters. You do know they aren't really PUT TO SLEEP, right? Denis Leary says; "Meat is murder, and right now murder tastes pretty good!" What you have is nothing that a few pounds of pink prime rib can't cure.
In conclusion, the American political process, with all its kinks and quirks, creates an environment in which individuality can still thrive within a framework of compromise. The more we diverge the more we come together in the soupy sludge of the Melting Pot, and every election serves us a brimming, savory ladle of the same. So, until next election always remember; if you didn't vote, you CAN bitch, but it won't mean shit!