[keep scrolling down, as always, for the latest EZLN translations]
So, one of our enquiring minds enquires as to why I choose not to vote. Which is actually a rather interesting way of opening up that discussion on non-electoral caveats which I had tried, with resounding failure, to provoke earlier.
I don't vote because I always feel they must be mistaken. Who, me? No, no. Wrong person, wrong time, wrong place. I must have wandered into an alt-universe if you think this applies to me. The candidates have been speaking to millions of people whom I have apparently never met. I simply could not walk into a polling station, pull a lever and look in the mirror the next morning. Despite the fact, believe me, that I have absolutely NOTHING against whoring.
But I also don't like the black and white of much that passes for political thought these days. Of course there are lesser degrees of horrors inflicted by one elected official or the other. I think the entire planet would be a far better place if Cheney and Rove and their evil coven weren't in such direct and intimate touch with the tools of power and control.
I think a Zapatero is worth a thousand Aznars and that Villaraigosa will know what to do with Venezuelan oil. Anyone who doesn't see that is of one of two minds. Either ingenuous and innocent and yet to have lived in the universe. Or of that particularly sleazy oldschool mindset that pretends to believe that the more repressive and tyrannical the Powers, the easier it shall be to shortcut to the Revolution. If only it were that easy.
And I suppose some might have found that prophecy fulfilled when Salazar Mendiguchía replaced La Croquetas. Better the overt dogs of war than the covert. Yes, in some ways it makes the work harder, of course, but that is not necessarily a horrid thing. More thought, more brilliance, more heart might indeed be required. But also a consummation devoutly to be wished.
No, unlike love, the reasons I choose not to vote aren't simple. Part of it, of course, is, as a charming gentleman once said, that I wouldn't wish to belong to any organization that would have me as a member. Part that the anarchist in me refuses to be told what I can and cannot do - thus, for me, a disconcerting dilemma La Sexta. I suppose I could dither and send a thoughtful missive to both email addresses.
And the largest part might be that I have taken, for so very long, to the alternative of voting with my feet. Serial expatriation, endless diaspora...the non writ simply and personally.
[And I do most solemnly swear that tomorrow shall be devoted to Bécquer and basques - yes, small "b", the corsets not the compas]