You Can Never Vote Home Again

I swear to god, I mailed in my registration change-of-address paper trail crap weeks ago. But somehow New York state has fucked me over and never acknowledged my efforts. I’d like to be reimbursed for my $27 round-trip ticket upstate to vote alongside the fat, uneducated conservatives. No one votes with their wallet anymore; from the looks of this crowd, they vote with their stomach. I missed the train back to the city, and bruised my hands slamming the doors before it pulled away from the station. Trains don’t fight back. I made it to work at 3pm with an inbox full of shit and republican friends spewing idiotic messages. I’m angry. I’m exhausted. I’m going to get drunk and stare at the television until I can sleep peacefully knowing Mr. Obama has won it.

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