Eeny, meeny, miny, moe

I don’t post about politics. I’d much rather stick to musical musings. But I keep writing about this song and that session while chaotic un-presidented (not a typo) pre-election activities are in my face 24/7. I feel like I’m ignoring the elephant (and the donkey) in the room. So here goes…

I’ve always been a registered Independent. I pride myself on straddling the middle…reserving my options. (I also drive a convertible but rarely put the top down—shame on me—but when I do, I love it and I’m happy to have the choice.) 

There’s a lot of unrest in this country. Voices haven’t been heard—voices that fear they still won’t be heard if we stay within the boundaries of established politicians, even if they are “qualified.” Nobody wants a dynasty. 

Then again, to have someone who isn’t the most suitable change agent promise change, is also cause for dismay. 

There’s no turning back now, however. We all knew about her privacy and his audacity when we voted in the primaries. We made our beds and here we are. I’ve unfollowed friends on Facebook to shield myself from the vitriol and sarcasm. I hope we learn from the toxicity and perhaps there’ll be a silver lining to all this madness in the future. 

If I were a Republican, next time around I would encourage my fellow party mates to nominate a candidate who could invoke change but perhaps not in such an outrageous manner. Then maybe some of the messages would get through to a whole lot more people.  

If I were a Democrat I would encourage my party mates to consider new blood. It would be a shame if someone who was qualified (but whose name were entirely too familiar), would miss his or her “turn” but perhaps we desperately need to move on to fresh faces, narratives, ideas. 

If Trump should win, I hope he is truly humbled at what an unlikely commander in chief he is and search within himself for decency. Prove to us you can do it, Donald.

If Hilary wins, my hope is that she not take it for granted—realize how close she came to defeat and prove to us she sincerely heard all the voices of unrest.  

There is no perfect candidate. Who in their right mind would want to run for President anyway—in this age of social media and cyber-stalking when nothing is secret or sacred, down to a mole on a penis or semen on a dress? There’s always going to be skeletons in closets. 

I shutter to think what would be revealed about me in my more unseemly moments. Like if someone shot a video during one of my customer dissatisfaction tantrums in a department store. Or when I inadvertently send a gossipy text to the gossip-ee, instead of the confidant it was meant for. So I’m not a national security risk or a borderline pedophile but you know what I mean. We all get found out. 

There is no past candidate or President whose flaws and fibs and indiscretions and vulgarity wouldn't have brought them down if we knew about them. JFK’s affairs? And yet he was the one who stopped those Cuban missiles when everyone told him he was going about it the wrong way. 

Lucky for Obama that he was able to keep it in his pants for eight years because if he hadn’t you know we’d know about it. Or worse…we’d have seen it, thanks to Anthony’s weiner. I mean, Anthony Weiner. Well…both. 

But I digress. 

For my fellow songwriters out there, who’ve made it this far into my non-music related rant…when it comes to creators' rights and digital royalty improvements, personally I’m praying for a President with a kid who wants to be a rockstar. Then we’d have his or her ear—the way Cheney was suddenly more compassionate about gay rights when his daughter came out…or Sarah Brady supported background checks (the Brady Bill) after her husband was shot, or Nancy championed stem cell research when President Reagan was diagnosed with Alzheimers. A POTUS with a kid in a rock band? Watch how fast the Copyright Office is given autonomy, streaming rates go up, take down stays down!

Alas, I believe Chelsea’s ship has sailed, and Ivanka and the boys are too invested in their brand. Maybe that little Trump? Who knows. Sadly, I have a feeling it’s not going to happen this year…but somewhere in the not-to-distant future it would be nice. A songwriter can dream.

So next time around, let’s see some fresh faces, humble civil servants who are dedicated and suited for office even with all their imperfections. And let's think about it a little harder before the primaries. 

But for now let the best man...or woman...win. And please hurry up. I seriously can't take it any more.

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