As I See It: Hills v Obama

I heard this old crusty pack-a-day lady call Hillary Clinton as “mensch” at a post-Pennsylvania Primary party on NPR the other day. She was so happy and human, and yet so instinctually off-putting to me. And I thought…God, I am such an elitist. Maybe I should be supporting Obama. That’s what I DESERVE. Because honestly, the thought that this middle aged, probably-doughy, slouchy, mottled woman is as supportive of Hillary as I am was horrifyingly, uncomfortably, but unmistakably, like…repugnant to me.

PLUS, when I heard Obama say that stuff about po’ folks clinging to religion and guns I was like, “Right on, Obama. Maybe I DO want you to be my President if you’re going to actually say the stuff most of us silver spoon folks just think to ourselves all the time.”

I have a choice to make here. I mean, it's a choice that's going to be made for me in two months anyway, but due to my socio-economic background and age bracket, I've been feeling lots of pressure to reassess my personal position every second of every day. It's akin to the deep-seated compulsion I feel to repeatedly hit the refresh button on the Go Fug Yourself homepage.

Let’s get back to that lady. That $10.50 an hour lady is the key, I think. If I want to keep loving myself some Hills, I need to give that lady a hug. I need to throw open my arms and drink her in. Smell the cigarettes and the Bud and the stale sweat between the folds of flesh around her pink and white neck and just squeeze.

And honestly, I think that’s what I want to do right now. Because I have a feeling that to jump ship and love Obama, I might have to go kick that woman in the junk and run away cackling. And that just ain't right.