The Super Tuesday Buffet

YOU KNOW THAT LESSON YOU LEARN AS A KID: “If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything at all”? Well, since we’ve been in the cesspool of politics lately I’ve tried to not say anything at all; at least not in writing where it could come back to haunt me.

But I will say this, I did vote in the Super Tuesday Primary. It didn’t feel super at all. As a matter of fact it was sort of like eating lunch at a convenience store. You know the ones that have the brightly lit buffet of fried, brown stuff like okra, mushrooms, chicken fingers, lizards, gizzards, beaks, hearts other parts, along with pizza, corndogs, burritos, chimichangas and fried pies.

The food is salty, greasy and cheap. It will take away your appetite, and there is something strangely compelling in the presentation and partaking of the glistening greasiness. Still, deep down, you’re haunted by the reality that in the long run it’s not healthy or wise, and a steady diet of it will be sickening if not fatal.