Nonsensor.

Ah yes, the first Tuesday in November, that magical time when we start to freak out about how dark it is at 4:00 in the afternoon, when wiener dogs decide it's too cold outside now I'll just poop on the floor thank you. Election day. Even better: Local election day. Confusing ballot issues, incompetent candidates, and the inevitable chucking of hundreds of lawn signs. I actually do enjoy it, in spite of how much it makes me think of that Chumbawamba gem from '86, "Always Tell The Voter What The Voter Wants to Hear," featuring classic couplets on political BS:

The matter is as dear to me as it is to you. Give me four years and I'll get right down to it. Because unlike my little balding colleague on my left, we don't make promises we can't keep.

or Alvey-esque campaign pledges:

Tax cuts and platform shoes
For every small businessman!

In all seriousness, I share their cynicism over national politics but on the local level, election day gives me faith in democracy. Plus they are anarchist 40-somethings with a vegetarian dog. Take Ferndale for instance. Where else but America can an openly gay guy move his way up through the ranks of city government for the past decade to run for mayor against the head of a small IT firm whose platform consists of "not gay" and "parking problems would be solved if residents would use their own driveways?" Nowhere, that's where.

So don't forget to vote today. Vote "Yes" on Proposition X and certainly vote "No" on Prop Y (are you crazy!), and worry about the disgusting mess over that president guy next year.