I know, I know. You were so close. Just under 70 days to go, so near you could almost see the finish line, and then it happened.
Maybe it was at the tailgate. Maybe the lake over Labor Day. Maybe you got stuck in a barber chair and couldn't escape unless you wanted to walk around with a half-hipster, short-on-just-one-side look.
Whatever the case, just when you thought you might get away with it, you found yourself trapped and ... had to talk about the election.
Been there. Phone call with a relative. It was a lot of the relative expounding on the forces of evil that possess the opposing candidate. It was lots of me going, "uh huh. Uh huh. Uhhhhh huh..." A tip here: When someone asks about the health of the other person's pet, he REALLY wants to change the subject.
Look, I get it. I'm a fairly politically engaged person with relatively strong, loosely held opinions. It just that at this point in the Election Cycle from the Netherworld, polls tell us a) there are too many polls, and b) most people have already made their "would I rather be kicked or gouged?" decision.
Trying to talk people out of their current position is going to make them both mad at you and incredibly mad they had to make a decision in the first place. Neither of which seems like the sort of thing that goes well with ribs before a football game.
But I'm here for you, as always (well, or at least once a week, give or take). And I'm willing to share with you my handy secrets for talking about politics in our current, troubled times.
Do you really have to? I mean, can't you talk about something less controversial, like religion or college football or which way the toilet paper should be hung? When I was a child and conversations at my family reunions turned to politics, all I had to say was, "You know, I read somewhere there are lots of people who don't think you have to be fully immersed ... " Then I could just go outside and throw a tennis ball against the side of the barn for hours, knowing the adults were fully occupied and wouldn't be bothering me about how important it was that I vote for whomever they wanted me to vote for in eight or so years when I'd actually get to vote.
Freak them out. Agree with them. Just say, "You know, you might be right." Fires don't burn when there's no oxygen. Besides, unless the Russians really are involved, the beauty of our election system is the only person who knows how you voted stares back at you in the mirror. And in many cases he does it knowing he didn't spoil enjoying Aunt Edna's cherry peach flambé pie with graham cracker crust by disagreeing with Uncle BooBoo. Priorities here.
If you're with people you don't know and don't expect to see again, pretend you're Canadian. You don't really have to fake an accent (just throw in an "aboot" every now and then, and ask for bacon a lot), and you're not exactly a target-rich environment if you're legally forbidden from participating. If pressed, start giving a long, convoluted explanation about how parliaments work. You can make stuff up. It's not like anyone will know. I mean, come on now, we're Americans! The only thing we know about foreign countries is how to invade them.
Fake an illness. Coughing fits appear to be quite popular these days, but the old standby is a heart attack. Remember, it's the left arm that goes numb. And it's a rookie mistake to grab the right side of your chest. Or you could start hearing voices, though in this election, that might actually qualify you as a candidate.
When all else fails, go with math. You have one vote. The person you're talking to has one vote. Chances are you'll cancel each other out, at worst, and, at best, maybe he'll just forget to register or something. Either way, while "every vote counts," it counts as one of the 130 million that will be cast. Whatever side you both are on, odds are about half the country agrees with you and the other half thinks you're nuts. Either group could be right.
If all else fails, just keep telling yourself "Less than three months. Less than three months." And before you know it, it'll be Nov. 9 and this fever dream of an election will be over. And then we can all go back to arguing about important stuff like third-down play calling and thin crust versus Chicago-style pizza.
At least until the mid-terms ...
Commentary on 09/09/2016