It all sounds too good to be true. He’s only been a senator for two years. He’s the child of a white woman from Kansas and a black man from Kenya. His middle name, for Christ’s sake, is Hussein. But he is still relatively young, and a fresh face, not someone who has made his living spending tax dollars in Washington, D.C. He’s passionate, and optimistic, and able to stir those same qualities in others. He’s genuine, or at least able to fake genuine better than most. He can give one motherfucker of a speech, and make it sound like he actually, you know, cares about what he’s saying. He kindles a hope, futile though it was, even in those of us who are not and never have been Democrats, that there might be another way, that eight more dreary, depressing, disconnecting, alienating years might not be staring us in the face from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Too good to be true is exactly what it was, and futile, and the mother of all long-shots. Until a month ago, when something completely unexpected started to happen. Obama’s presidential campaign, which had been running strong, but always a strong second to Clinton’s, started to catch fire. He snagged endorsements from newspapers, unions, and most significantly Oprah Winfrey, whose enthusiastic support reminded me that politics does indeed make strange bedfellows. Suddenly, he was giving his stump speech to thousands of people at a time. He was moving up in the polls, closing the gap between he and Hillary, both in key early primary states and nationally. And while Obama was suddenly soaring, Hillary was stagnate. Until January 3, that is, when Obama convincingly won the Iowa caucus. Hillary was no longer stagnating; she was fading away.
New Hampshire, you were supposed to be the next nail in her coffin. Not the last one — too many people know her name, and the woman has way too much money for that to have happened — but a big one. Pre-election tracking polls gave all the momentum to Obama. While Hillary looked exhausted stumping in front of crowds of a few dozen, maybe a few hundred on a good night, Obama was playing to gymnasiums packed to the rafters and looking like a fucking rock star. It was going to be a blow-out, a double-digit defeat to send Hillary slinking off into the shadows that had spawned her to rest and regroup.
So what happened? Explain this to me, because I would love to hear one logical motive, one reason why 39% of you decided to vote for Hillary Clinton yesterday. You had a chance to take the one truly fresh and likable candidate running for either major party’s nomination this time around, and elevate him to undisputed frontrunner status. More importantly, you had a chance — perhaps the only chance anyone will ever get — to drive a stake through Hillary Clinton’s shriveled, evil vampire heart. Yet, you didn’t do it. I struggle. I struggle to understand why.
Maybe you thought Hillary was the more qualified candidate. I can’t see how, since she is hardly a veteran of elected office, having served as a senator a mere five years longer than Obama, and since her few attempts at making policy during her husband’s presidency were all resounding failures. Her legacy after eight years as First Lady is being willing to ignore or forgive her husband’s continuous adultery, debasing herself in order to preserve their unholy political alliance (and also, incidentally, their marriage).
Maybe some of you would rather see the first woman president than the first black president. That possibility troubles me. The election of the first woman or the first non-white person to the highest office in the land should be a time of triumph, of celebration, of exultation, whether that person is a member of your political party or not. It should be a transcendent moment in American history, when those of us lucky enough to be alive to bear witness are able to exorcise ourselves of the sins and shortcomings of our ancestors which delayed this great day so long. It shouldn’t be the election of just any woman or just any black person. It should be someone worthy, someone we can all take pride in, whether we voted for them or not.
If Barack Obama is elected and inaugurated as the first black President of the United States, someday we will be able to tell our children and grandchildren that we were here when it happened, that some of us helped to make it happen by casting our votes, and that we are proud to have been so blessed to have lived through those days. If Hillary Clinton is elected and inaugurated as the first female President of the United States, someday we will have to explain to our children and grandchildren why, in 2008, we were unable to find a single female in the entire country more fit to hold our government’s highest elected office than a cold, conniving, uncharismatic woman that most of us despised. We will have no excuse.
You could have put Obama on the right track, New Hampshire, but you fucked it up. You fucked it up because 39% of your Democratic primary voters were either too stupid or too chickenshit to do what was right. You guys could have put this bitch down. Now she’s loose. We may not be able to catch her. Obama may still pull it out, and maybe he’ll be better for having to fight for it. But it’s just as likely that yesterday was his last shot. If Hillary takes the nomination and goes on to win in November, we’ll all have you chowder-slurping sons of bitches to thank.
Those of you who voted on the Republican side at least showed some brains. McCain is the best of a shitty lot. At least you didn’t all come out and vote for Romney, that fucking android. If Hillary does get the nomination, you’d better pray to God that McCain gets it for the Republicans and beats her ass in the general election. Because if not, I promise I will see each and every one of you maple syrup-eating bastards in Hell, where you will not live free, my snowmobile-riding friends, oh no — you will die all over again.
Yours in Christ,