I’m one to talk, right? But as we hit the last upward hike of our ascent toward the election, discouragement is all around us. Our votes won’t matter; we won’t vote; no one will turn out; it’s already over.

And to that I say a hearty plbbbbbtttt.

If we couldn’t win, they wouldn’t be trying to stop us from doing it. If our votes don’t matter, why are they so intent on preventing us from doing so?

In the famous words of someone famous you know I’m going to look up as soon as I’ve typed this sentence, it ain’t over ’til it’s over.

(It was Yogi Berra.)

We need to scramble, to claw, to fight our way out of this nightmare. If it were easy, we wouldn’t be here in the first place. We got her on the path of least resistance.

No more. In another set of words borrowed from Yogi Berra, when you come to a fork in the road, take it. Our fork is waiting.

Have a great Wednesday.

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Check out  my full-length novels: 
Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   
Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 
Her Cousin Much Removed
The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.
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