November 8, 2000: The Tantric Election

I need to apologize to my readers for not being my usual hyperactive self. It is an hour before my weekly deadline, I am exhausted, physically and emotionally. I need sleep badly.

Sixteen hours ago I was fresh and wired, and CNN had just put Florida in the Gore camp. We knew it was all over but the shouting. The election would be close, close enough to humble Al Gore’s terrible hubris, but the Democrats would keep the White House. Nader had made his point. All would be well, at least relatively speaking.

Somewhere around ten EST, Florida turned from blue to gray on CNN’s big board, and the rest of the board began to turn red for Dubya. I went on the balcony to smoke a cigarette, a habit I’d sworn to give up. I’m not a Gore supporter. The Democratic party has used up its credit, as far as I’m concerned, given up its right to call itself the representatives of American progressivism. But still, I was worried. I am a spiritual man myself, and it is because my brand of spirituality would get me burned at the stake in most of the stakes that went for Bush that I considered praying for a Gore victory in Florida. But I decided against it. No man knows what their credit limit is with the gods, and I couldn’t in good faith beseech them on Al Gore’s behalf. He wouldn’t call Jesus for me.

I smoked, and paced my office nervously, hitting the refresh button on my browser every three minutes to see if the electoral count had changed. Somewhere around ten, I couldn’t take it anymore, and called up a friend of mine, a woman who used to be a professional dominatrix. She was no stranger to frustration, torment and suffering, having been well paid to inflict it.

“You just need a different kind of pain” she told me “I’d come over there and sodomize you with an 8” spiked heel, but it might affect our friendship. Why don’t you go and exercise? They won’t know anything until after midnight anyway.”

Message to self: When in doubt, ask a professional mistress.

I took off and went to the gym. It was after ten on a Tuesday night, but nearly every treadmill was in use. Twenty people in lycra running in place, heads craned upwards towards a silent TV. I got on a climbing machine and set the program to something called “A hike in the Himalayas”. I could wait this thing out, but only if I kept moving.

I couldn’t believe that Al Gore could let things get this close. He’d lost his own home state, and Clinton’s too. Win or lose, the man from Tennessee had proven himself a failure. And what about the media? They’d been so focused on speed, so intent on being the first to proclaim a victor that they’d gone ahead and proclaimed one before the votes were in, not once, but twice. They’d taken a dull race and made it exciting. Our democracy had been boiled down to a way to increase their ratings. I was beginning to suspect foul play, and the mood at the gym was extremely tense.

At midnight PST, Bush was declared the winner of Florida, and the next president of the United States. A goofy frat boy would be holding the nuclear football for the next four years. I tried to console myself by thinking of Thomas Becket. A ne’er-do-well who found himself in a position of great power, Becket had risen to the challenge and proven himself to be a worthy servant of the common man. He was murdered for his troubles, but he was made a saint and had a play written about him. Perhaps Dubya will prove similarly capable of rising above all logical expectations.

I called up my friend Nevets from a pay phone, and he told me to relax. “George Bush is a recovering Alcoholic. He’ll probably use some sort of twelve-step program to help him become a better leader.” I hung up and walked home, imagining Dubya’s first state of the union address.

“My fellow Americans. We’re making this country better, one day at a time. About that looming war in the middle east, I’ve decided to let go and let god. As for all the other problems facing the nation, I’m still waiting for my sponsor to get back to me”

The thought was too weird for me, and I focused on what I was going to write for today’s column. A letter of condolence to the loser might be a good idea. I sat down with my laptop and switched on MSNBC to watch Al’s concession speech, the final act in this comedy of incompetence, and began my column:

Dear Al,
Congratulations on being made George Bush's bitch...

The cameras were on Austin, where a jubilant crowd was assembled. Then they switched over to Nashville, where, much to my surprise...

...a jubilant crowd was assembled.

What the fuck…?

It seemed as if news of Al Gore’s defeat had been premature. Thanks again, CNN. The race in Florida was too close to call. But wait, more news was pouring in. Some Democratic voters are saying that they’d voted mistakenly for Buchanan due to an unclear Ballot. Buchanan with six times his statistical average in a primarily Jewish Palm Beach District?

An especially good turnout from the Jews for Hitler coalition, or something even more sinister?

And what about those missing ballot boxes, and these new reports of 30,000 disqualified ballots from Boca? Has the Bush clan resorted to voter fraud to get control of the White house? Can charges of Conspiracy, and yes, even treason, be far behind?

Its press time here folks, and I need to wrap this beast up. There are more important things going on, and I need to sleep. When I wake up, we may or may not have a declared winner in Florida. If its Bush, he’ll have won the election without the popular vote, and his presidency will be a fractured one. Guilty or not, the stench of malfeasance will hang over his administration. If its Gore, he’ll take the oath of office on January 20’th a spanked and humbled man, ruling with no mandate to speak of.

The sensible thing to do at this point would be to form a coalition government, with the winner inviting the loser into his cabinet. It happens in other countries, and it wouldn’t be a precedent in America. Abraham Lincoln brought several members from the party he’d vanquished into his cabinet, and it probably helped keep the union together. Just imagine if one of the candidates – Bush, a loser in the popular vote, a man who has spoken so much about being “a healer, not a divider,” or Gore, who has won the popular vote by a ridiculously slim margin for an incumbent riding the biggest economic boom in American history – making a statement conceding the closeness of this race, and inviting his barely vanquished opponent into his cabinet, forming a government that would then have the support of over 90% of the electorate.

Wow. An actual mandate of the people. It might look something like democracy…

The next 24 hours will be very interesting. We cannot predict the outcome. Better to end with the final line from Dr. Seuss's The Butter Battle Book:

“We shall see…we shall see.”

comments? Email me at "josambro at josambro dot com"
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