My friends, it’s over. The election of the century has come and gone. While I suspect that no one is happier about this than Tina Fey, I for one am dog-paddling through the gelatinous muck of post-election blues, or PEWS. Although it is a small consolation to discover that I am not alone, that many people are experiencing this sense of general discombobulation and lethargia on the heels of what was once all-consuming and utterly significant, this melancholy is no mystery: They just canceled my favorite show!
What will become of Joe the Plumber and the good ole’ Straight-Talk Express, not to mention all those fancy clothes from high-falutin’ outfitters (the likes of which do not exist in Alaska)? Will Levi have to marry Bristol now that he is no longer being held hostage by the GOP? Meanwhile, fabulously trivial cliches such as “my friends,” “stay the course,” and “lipstick on a pig” will be swept away like so much confetti after the celebrating has commenced. The travesty of it all… I was truly hoping to incorporate the entire lexicon of Election ’08 (including words like “vetting” and “maverick”) into more conversations, as well as contemplatin’ droppin’ all the g‘s off the end of my favorite big words. Gosh dern’d it! I miss election season.
The not-so-insignificant matter of Alaska’s high northern latitude and infamously darker autumn and winter seasons further exacerbates the sense of despondency, but not quite enough to quell the euphoria of what just happened in America this past week! As a world citizen, I am bursting with hope. I am enthusiastic and proud. As a product of the American experience, I can identify with the pioneering spirit that the Obama family exemplifies as they travel into the new territory that is the White House. As a well-seasoned woman, I am grateful that the First Lady-elect, “Barack’s Rock,” has already exhibited a level of class and grace that chickee-babes both young and old can emulate with admiration. As an Alaskan, however, the song remains the same. More or less.
The Governess Palin has returned to home turf and, while rumors of her future ambitions are flying out of every nook and cranny in the media, I’m not listening. In fact, whenever I put my fingers in my ears, all I can hear is the ocean. Yup. Far as the WSW is concerned, the less attention we give her, the better. Perhaps Lenscrafters would like to hire her as their spokesperson, you know, to proselytize contact lens wearers over to spiffy frames… However, anything short of that suggested scenario may require a heaping shot of absolution – and I ain’t so sure I am ready yet. Fact is this: once I get over being mad at her for humiliating us folksy Alaskans, I will most likely forgive her, and then probably forget her. ‘Til then, it’s survival of the fittest, baby… (I do it to someone every winter – though it’s usually a man, and we call it “foreplay.”)
Nevertheless, all this vacillating between feeling sad and hopeful and angry and exhilarated has me all buggered up. Now where did I put that phone number to Joe the Psychiatrist?
*Thanks to http://swissmiss.typepad.com for the blue-with-balloon pic