Tuesday, November 6, 2012
In the '80s I had a temp job filling ATM machines. I drove around in the back of an armored truck driven by retired Philly cops. One of the cops, who after spending a career arresting the worst humanity had to offer, was the most bitterest, cynical, hate-filled crank ever. He was like Sgt. Snorkel, except instead of speaking in the symbols found at the top of the number keys on a typewriter, he spoke in actual curses. He hated blacks, he hated Jews, he hated women, on and on.
Anyway, one day he's complaining about Reagan of all people and I couldn't take it anymore. "Who did you vote for?" I asked. "Because I know you didn't vote for Geraldine Ferraro!"
He told me it was none of my business, but my point was, if you don't vote, you're not allowed to complain.