{ metropolis devoured }
a tribute to my san francisco

3/4 oz scotch whiskey
3/4 oz local politics
1/4 oz public policy
1/4 oz disaster preparedness
1/2 oz alamo square

Shake over neighborhood dives & venues, strain into a chilled cocktail dress, garnish with a sprig of gov 2.0, and serve.

Thursday, June 05, 2008

Election day wrap-up...

It's Friday and I finally have down downtime at the ol' corporate office to write about the way Tuesday night managed to capitalized on "progressive" disaster. Basically, could it have gone worse? Maybe. But not by much. Many of my devoted readers (all 10 of you!) don't pay quite as close of attention as I do to news coverage of local politics - and god bless you for that, you're much better off - so here is the important recap: Despite all the extremely hard work the Senator, her staff, and hundreds of volunteers put into the campaign on the phones and on the streets, the simple truth is that voters don't really care about who they are electing; they, quite sadly, care about superficial things that will not have any impact on a politician's legislative record. Like "Oh he's a nice guy" - so?; or "I heard she's mean!" - once again, so? Oh, and Prop F failed while Prop G won, and most people who aren't "on the inside" still had no clue what they were voting for, they just remembered the two months worth of cleverly shot Prop G commercials that ran on cable.

I myself took on a Liberty Heights precinct, at that point mostly for the benefit of physical fitness. They don't call them "Heights" and "Hill street" for nothing, let me tell you.

Around 6:30pm I took over the Senator's list and began phoning retires in Marin County. By 7pm, they were all too busy watching the news for Barak Obama coverage to talk to me very much, and at that point I'd been at it for 15 hours (an actual figure, not an exaggeration) and started the count-down to scotchy scotch scotch time. At 8pm I promptly put on mascara and some blush for the cameras that I would later make all possible efforts to avoid, grabbed a couple of cups of ice, and began pouring the 15-year highland.

I even offered a drink to Supervisor Peskin, who declined, saying that by that time he was at capacity. I won't relay the actual words he used. Who declines a scotch from a tired girl but bouncy hair?

The rest of the night involved nervously watching election results trickle in with DCCC members Debra Walker and Rafael Mandelman and drinking more at the El Rio in the presence of everyone I know. Typical.



Blogger NotFarEnough said...

Women drinking scotch are hot. I'm more of an Islay person myself.

7:58 AM  

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