I think I speak for all of us when I say “I love Florida.”
I mean that, of course, in that special way that we reserve
for “I love Grandpa (and make special allowances for him).” Like Grandpa, Florida is great to visit on
vacation, even if it is always good to get home again, afterwards. Like Grandpa, Florida can get a little crazy
in his politics. The rest of us know
that, like Grandpa, Florida sometimes takes a little longer, so we need to be
patient. We know that, like Grandpa,
Florida sometimes leaves a mess for the rest of us to clean up. And we know that, like Grandpa, Florida can’t
always make up its mind.
That doesn’t mean we don’t love Florida; we do. It’s just we’d rather not have Florida in charge
of getting us to the theater on time; wouldn’t he just be happier to stay home
and visit with us when we get back? Can
we make that suggestion for the next election?
Florida, don’t bother yourself; we’ll figure it out and get back to you
when it’s over.
What difference would that make to the process anyway? Every election, Florida stands there window
shopping for days after everyone else has made their purchase: “I kinda want
the red one, but I kinda want the blue one.
I dunno. Red. Blue.
The red goes better with my comfortable shorts, but the blue would look
nice if I ever wanted to dress up.”
Who cares? He’s gonna
be happy half the time, and crabby as hell half the time whichever way we
go. Why don’t we just pick it for him
every year like we did this year. Let’s
just make it official: on the first Tuesday in November of even numbered years,
America goes to the polls; and Florida waits at home, watching on television to
see how it comes out.
