That being said, the events of the last two days have seriously tested my resolve. I have to admit that I watched Obama's acceptance "speech of a lifetime" while anticipating McCain's well timed vice presidential pick. The punch-counter punch was incredibly great political theatre. Throw into the mix, Senator McCain's gentlemanly congratulations to Senator Obama for the historical relevance of his nomination on the anniversary of Martin Luther King's historic speech from the Lincoln Memorial and you suddenly have the makings of what might be a truly interesting presidential race.
But still, I hesitate to involve myself with the notion that anything at all will change regardless of all the theatrics. We are living in an age when kids can morph themselves into a video golf game and convince themselves that they can play like Tiger Woods. At the same time, politicians revise history through audio visual techniques to convince young voters that something was other than what it was. With today's technology, do we really know what is real and what is fabricated? I've got to confess, most of the time I can't tell the difference.
So, where are we now? Every election cycle we find ourselves on the brink of extinction, or worse. We are a nation at war, the democrats cry. The republicans claim victory and we are just cleaning up the mess. Our social security system is a failed endeavour and our senior citizens are eating scraps, say the liberals. They'll be alright, say the conservatives, we're just borrowing against the future. The boomers will make up the difference. On and on and on. Issue after contrived issue. No end in sight.
"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief, "There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief. Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth, None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke, "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl, Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl. Bob Dylan
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