Race? Publica.

As you may have noticed, and as some of you have noted, we have been infested with our biennial cicada-cycle of chirping anonymice. Happens every election cycle. They object to this blurgh's, hum, je ne fais pas. Watchwords: utopian, purity. The arguments are fairly meager; you don't have to believe, but damnit, the High Holy Days only come around every so often. It would make your mother happy.

I guess it's a mark of either delusion or desperation, depending on who's up over whom in the cycle, that the thousand-odd, geographically dispersed regulars of this tiny corner of the internet should merit the attention of the sheepdog brigade. When I tell people in reallife that I don't vote, they either don't care, or they confess with the glee of a couple of secretaries sneaking off with an extra pair of cupcakes after a staff meeting that they don't either. If only because indolence is one of the most universal human traits, I find myself, in this regard, in the majority! It is an odd feeling, actually, and I sometimes wonder if I oughtn't start voting again just to maintain my status as an outsider.