Voting for Obama is 2008 was kind of amazing for me since it was one of the few times in my life I actually voted for someone. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been voting for over 20 years. I voted against George Bush in ’92 and looked on with glee as he was defeated by Clinton and I voted against his idiot son in 2000 & 2004 and then had to look on despondently for eight years as he single-handedly ruined the letter “W” forever (and America.) Hell, I even voted against Gary Coleman in the California Recall election of 2003 (plus all the other joke candidtates like Angelique and Arnold Schwartzeneger. HA! Can you imagine if that guy had won? We would have totally looked like a bunch of tools! Sigh.)
I have to admit- it was a lot of fun voting FOR somebody in 2008– the surging pride I felt when I saw his bumper stickers, the sense of self-satisfaction I felt when I donated an insignificant amount of money to the campagin and got a personalized thank-you email (with another request for money) right away, actually watching the election results come in with eager anticipation that things might get better rather than the usual sickening dread that things are about to get a hell of a lot worse. I do feel a little guilty, though, that all of us wanted him to be president so bad that none of us warned him what an incredibly shitty country we would be when he took over. As a result, he’s like a man who married his dream girl after two long years of courtship only to have her go off her meds the minute they moved into the White House. Now, instead of joining him for long walks on the beach and soulful conversations about Hope and Change on the bearskin rug by the Lincoln Bedroom fireplace (the Clinton rug), she just sits around the house in a ratty red, white and blue bathrobe with one slipper on, her socks pulled all the way up and lipstick on her teeth, drinking vodka out of a coffee cup at 8 o clock in the morning and screeching incoherently about Socialism and Death Panels and locking herself in the bathroom and threatening to flush his check book down the toilet if he doesn’t show her his birth certificate because the voices in her head (Fox News) told her he’s a dangerous Commie foreigner. Either that or screaming at him for being a total sellout because the other voices in her head (MSNBC) told her that he’s a Republican patsy.
Seriously, guys, we do need to think of a way to thank him for all the shit we’ve put him through as a country, like maybe in 2016 we could all chip in and buy him Sweden as a going-away present, or maybe just get him a really big ant farm. Since ants can work together to achieve a common goal, it’s a hell of a lot better than working with Congress.
Then again, if we all really wanted to thank him, we could decide as a country to just stop acting like COMPLETE RAVING ASSHOLES ALL OF THE FUCKING TIME. But that’s just crazy talk. Ant farm’s the way to go.
BTW- if Republican politicians hate the government so much- why do they try so hard to work there? I mean, come on Republicans, I know nothing beats that sweet government health plan and you’ve had trouble in the past getting private insurance because ignorance, stupidity, hypocrisy and extreme hosebaggery are all considered pre-existing conditions- but, hey, thanks to Obamacare, you guys don’t have to worry about that anymore! (Ron Paul still thinks you should die) So now all of you tea baggers are free to follow your heart and take a job that will better suit your skills and make you happy- like maybe: evil, moustache twirling
slumlord; or master of a Dickensian orphanage (Congress says gruel is a vegetable); or maybe even owner of a cut-rate, crooked nursing home (The Eric Cantor Home for Bedsores: “We’ll love your grandparents as though they were our very own cats”)- really any job that lets you guys get back to your roots and connect with real, honest-to-goodness, beer-commercial, down-home, regular-working-American-folks and fuck them up the ass in person.
Right. Uhm, what was I writing about again before I turned in to a crazy old leftist in a rocking chair with a shotgun (Off my lawn, John Boehner!)? Oh yeah, 2008. Voting for someone I like instead of against somebody I hate. That was cool. What does that have to do with football, again? Oh right, Tebow. Fuck that guy. Hate him. It’s not just run of the mill, Maroon 5, Bruno Mars, Larry the Cable Guy, Two and a Half Men, Litte Mermaid, Glee, Adele, Tim Duncan, Precious Moments, baseball, golf, Oprah’s book club, Al Michaels, Joe Buck- won’t somebody please for the love of god stick this guy’s head in the toilet and make him stop talking so I don’t have to hear his stupid douchebag voice any more – kind of hate. No, this is that special type of hate I keep locked away in a black metal box in the back of my heart filed between my secret, shameful love of Ke$ha (Eric $im$? Awe$ome!) and my pathological fear of
birds (birds are evil). This is a Randall Terry, Operation Rescue, Prop 8, Pat Robertson, Focus on the Family kind of hate. Not mere Mitt Romney hate – it’s Rick Santorum hate.
But, did I hate him enough to cheer for the Patriots in the playoffs?
As many of you may know, I’m not really a fan of the Patriots. Well, that’s not exactly correct. I’m not really a fan of genital warts, I can’t fucking stand the Patriots. They embody everything I don’t like about a team- success, consistency, teamwork, dedication- as a Jets fan it’s enough to make me puke. I much prefer scrappy, inconsistent underdogs with a penchant for stunning victories and spectacular implosions, kind of like my ole drunk pa, the Jets. Of course, unlike last year, where old drunkie actually managed to get my hopes up that he was finally going to live up to all his promises before falling off the victory wagon and humiliating himself in Pittsbugh, leaving me all alone at the zoo with a melting ice-cream waiting for him to come until the sun went down, the Jets pretty much spent this whole season on an epic bender of mediocrity and braggadocio 
stumbling around the country, doing shots of Sanchez all night long and puking up the football all over the gridiron. Hopefully, now that they’ve cleared up that nasty Schottenheimer infection they picked up on the street, they’ll better next year- but I fear that a full-frontal Rexotomy may truly be the only solution.
The really frustrating thing is that Tebow should be the sort of athelete I like. He’s fun to watch, scrappy, inventive and maddeningly inconsistent. Hell, I wouldn’t even mind if he was religious, if he’d just shut the fuck up about it and didn’t make commercials designed to make 15 year old rape victims feel like they’re going to hell for making intensely personal, difficult choices that are nobody else’s damn business. It’s the ultimate underdog story ruined by Evangelical Christianity. As disappointing as finding a kick-ass love ballad on the radio and turning it all the way up only to discover the singer is totally in love with Jesus, not Tawny Kitaen like he should be. Or, it’s like friending the awesome skater chick from High School on Facebook only to see her post about making a birthday cake for Jesus on Christmas to teach all her kids that Christmas is all about Jesus’ birthday and not all the fun stuff (which is either a super-creepy teaching tool or a fiendishly clever way to get cake, since, let’s face it, he ain’t gonna be having any. It’s like the hot-fudge sundae and bottle of scotch I leave out for Elijah each year, just in case…)
So, clearly I had no choice but to root for the Patriots. What was that like for me? Well, remember before I started ranting incoherently (birds will kill you) when I talked about voting for Obama and how great that was? Cheering for the Patriots was exactly not that. It was more like voting for John Kerry, a desperate
show of support for the plastic Masshole of last resort against the scrappy, right-wing populist moron. Unlike Kerry, though, whose campaign slogan was “Seriously, dude? This guy? Oy Vey.” (Mitt Romney just stole it) the Patriots actually crushed their opponent like a bulldozer rolling over a popsicle stick crucifix.
And, yeah, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it was kinda fun to see how the other half lives for a change. Judge me if you want, but every Jedi knight secretly wants to try on the helmet just once and see what delicacies are available at the Death Star cafeteria (Dark Side of the Fudge Pudding- don’t miss it. Plus the unlimited salad and breadsticks. There’s no Star Wars pun there- they’re just really good breadsticks.) Like the Homeless Guy in They Live, it was a chance to put on a tux and celebrate the good life with our alien overlords; Brady and Bellichek (Don’t be fooled, man- put on the shades, man! 
They actually make Belicheck handsome and distinguished. When you put on the shades, he’s actually wearing long-sleeved sweatshirts). Anyhow, the point is – yeah, sure it was fun to watch the hyper-efficient machine of doom utterly dismantle a lessser opponent, and to actually be able to cheer for them for a change.
You know, there may be something to this whole Tim Tebow family values thing. My sister is an avid fan of the Patriots, probably because it helps validate her terrible choice to settle in Worcester, MA (motto: “The Armpit of America- we wish.”) Usually, when the Patriots are playing, we spend the entire game saying horrible things to each other online. Sat night, though, something magical happened. Though our living rooms were 3000 miles apart, Tim Tebow brought us together as a family. When she posted “Suck it Focus on the Family” I enthusiastically liked her post. And when I posted: “To all the Tebow apologists- how did you like that Focus on the Family commercial? Still think this is harmless? Donate to Planned Parenthood while you still you have the chance to choose who you donate to. Oh, and fuck Tim Tebow.” She supported me with relish and glee. I even liked her post “45-10- Yeah Patriots!”. It’s like for one miraculous night all differences were put aside and we came together as one unified family, brought together by our desire to gaze upon Tebow’s loving smile and watch it be ground into the frigid dirt of Gillette stadium by the Patriots’ defense.
So am I now a man transformed? Am I like Saul on the road to Foxboro converted to Patriots Paul and destined to spend my days wandering the land spreading the Good News of Brady?
Not fucking likely. Have fun with the Ravens next week, Massholes! They’re going to eat you alive (birds eat eyeballs).
As for Obama, I’m still looking forward to voting FOR him this year. He may not be able to walk on water but he knows how to skate on thin ice and sometimes, that’s all you can ask. Maybe America will actually take her Lithium so he can get something done before 2016. It’s more likely, though, that we’ll keep being crazy and the country will go to the birds. (Birds vote Republican. EVIL!)
This post originally published on fierceandnerdy.com. Republished with permission.
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