You're right Stan. There's nothing I can say about it. But there's sure something I'm gonna do about it.

That was great. It was emotional. More emotional than I thought it was gonna be. Yeah, sure. Nothing’s really changed in terms of policy, economy, the general right/centrist type view that our government has sort of always held, but dude…I repeat, dude, there’s a fucking BLACK PRESIDENT ELECT today!!!!
That is huge. That is so fucking huge that I couldn’t even see it. It’s like in a movie where a guy is just standing there against a plain grey wall, and you’re watching and thinking ‘man, what a dull little bit of mis en scene', and then all of a sudden the wall begins to move and you realize he’s standing in front of a blue whale who’s, I don’t know, on a truck, or maybe the guy’s underwater. Who cares. Listen, the point here is that this whole thing was so large I kind of didn’t see it until last night when they showed all those people in Grant Park in Chicago. Black people, people. Firstly, TV doesn’t generally show non famous black people having a good time. If you don’t believe me go ahead and watch that again to see how foreign it looked. Secondly, the joy and hopefulness that was sort of just exuding from all these faces was amazing.
It was in my town and I was stuck at home with a kid. Missing history. I didn’t want to be down there in the park. I hate crowds like that. It’s terrifying to me, but I wanted to do something. Celebrate with a fellow random Chicagoan that our guy, our senator, our fellow resident of Chicago is the first black president. It wasn’t a political thing, it was an emotional and a local thing.
So, when my wife went to bed (we did some celebrating over here, so she went to bed with a garbage can, you know, just in case) I took off. I was thinking, ‘man, it’s a little irresponsible to leave a baby and a quasi-passed out woman home alone…I better take my skateboard and make this quick.’
So, I jumped on my skateboard and headed to my favorite local bar, but they were playing Toby Keith and there were just two depressed people in there. Seemed a little wrong. Not the vibe I was hoping for, you know? SO, I shot over to this german bar but it was the same, except the music was German. Again, not really screaming “Let’s celebrate the black guy’s victory.” In fact, you might even say that both bars kind of exuded the exact opposite sentiment. Huh? Hicks and Germans, everyone.
At this point it had been about four minutes since I left my house and I really didn’t want to be gone for long so I went to the creep bar that’s right by my house. I’d normally never set foot in this place. It’s full of…I don’t know, creeps. It’s just gross, and this is from a guy who likes gross bars. There’s just something kind of, ‘there’s an unconscious kid tied to the boiler’ about the ambience. Anyway, two greek looking dudes were in there, but the door was locked and they told me they were closed. I don’t know what they were up to, and I didn’t really care, so I shot over to the gay bar thinking ‘this is gonna be great. I should have gone here first.” When I show up, it’s pretty empty but Ralphie (a woman) was kind enough to join me in a shot of Cuervo (it was on special and I was in a big hurry at this point). We drank to Obama and then I came rushing home. Everything was cool, and I went to bed thinking, man, this is gonna be a funny story to tell my kid when he asks if I was celebrating during the crazy night when Barack Obama became the first black president and spoke to a hundred thousand person crowd in Chicago. Well, you and your mom were asleep so I got on my skateboard and did a shot of tequila with a sixty year old bull dyke at the ‘gay-bar-for-older-people’ in our neighborhood. Not quite the ‘yes we can’ moment of a lifetime, but it’s something pretty good. And I’ll take it.
This kid will not remember a world where there wasn’t a black president. That’s so cool. My friend Katie pointed out that chances are real good he won’t remember a world where there was one either. And that’s just a good joke, man. That’s how jokes are crafted people. You piss on dreams right out of the box. Like they were a bunch of urinal cakes. Nah, I don’t know. Today’s a great day. I feel awesome and it’s beautiful outside. Today is also maybe the only day of your lifetime when you can probably tell your boss you’re hung over, and regardless of what your affiliation or his is, he’ll (let’s be honest, bosses are men…heh) probably be okay with you doing a shot or having a beer. Because he’s either totally happy, or totally bummed. And that calls for a beer either way.
So get your beer. The expiration date on this kind of thing is quickly approaching and next week it’s gonna be the same bullshit we’ve always dealt with. Today though, fuck worrying for a sec. Fuck it. You gotta make time to dance too. This is your only life, and something big happened yesterday that didn’t involve buildings falling down and people dying, you know, unless you count Obama’s ties to Al Quaeda. Fuck, man. I got some living to do and I’m going to get a newspaper for my kid to have when he gets older.
Yeah, I know. It’s Washington business as usual. Tell me all about it next week naysayer. Also, how long before that Alaskan chick (what was her name again?) is getting offers from playboy? I’d love to see her nude with a shotgun holding that Trig guy. Actually, I’ve already got a shirt with that on it. Minus Trig. That’s kind of tasteless in retrospect. I mean fuck. Now that she’s just some hick mom with a pregnant daughter and a kid in Iraq and a retarded baby, I kind of feel bad for her. As opposed to hating her, which I did yesterday. Man. What a day.