Last Friday night was Taco Night; Peaches and I joined some friends at another couple's place in Pinellas Point for dinner, and the usual amiable shit-talk about work, pop culture, music and politics.Of course, there was much more shit-talk about politics than usual, and not much of that was wholly amiable.
Looking back, I think a stranger could've made a pretty good guess about the political and cultural views held by most of the group, just by taking in the details. Low-fat ground turkey and crumbled-soy meat substitute shared the stove with seasoned beef. Rebellious tunes by Iggy Pop and The Drive-By Truckers played on the stereo.
But the hypothetical stranger in question wouldn't have needed to rely on such clues to figure out the prevailing ideology, because few of the half-dozen lefties present could go more than a couple of minutes without taking a shot at the sole Republican in attendance.
The zingers were delivered with a venom content slightly higher than recommended for verbal jousting among friends. And our resident GOP representative absorbed them with good humor augmented by a detectable hint of smugness. After all, his guy won; we were just griping and grousing, taking it out on him because our guy lost. And we were griping and grousing and taking it out on him — not far below our familiar superficial sarcasm was a very real, very deep, very obvious sense of hurt, incredulousness, even despondency.
The evening's political makeup closely mirrored that of nearly every circle in which I run. (Family gleefully excepted — we are, after all, from the South.) It seems like the ratio of liberals to conservatives is always at least 7:1, and often much more lopsided than that. Though I, and most of my friends, land just outside the 18-to-29-year-old voter demographic analyzed to death over the course of this election, our ideals pretty much match up with theirs.
Or rather, with the perception of those ideals, as proffered by youth-conscious media outlets like MTV, MoveOn, The Daily Show, IndyMedia and others. They collectively lent the impression that the vast majority of voters under 30 — 21 million of them in all, according to polling firm Circle Research — were dedicated to ousting our incumbent President on Nov. 2.
Obviously, that wasn't the case.
But the philosophical similarities between my peer group and the popular image of young voters got me thinking. Irrespective of the outcome, a large number of first-time ballot-casters unarguably were motivated to do so by a desire for change. So it's safe to assume that, had the last four years not passed so tumultuously and contentiously, a goodly portion of that group wouldn't have bothered.
So the question is, will they bother again?
Will the MoveOn Nation's newest recruits slink home, shaking their heads and telling themselves this is why they decided not to give a shit about politics in the first place? Will this generation validate its reputation for collectively possessing the attention span of a squirrel on crack by immediately repressing the loss, and moving on to whatever is represented most forcefully by the next media assault?
A shake of the old Magic 8-Ball would tell us, "Don't count on it."
JoEllen Schilke is proprietor of The Globe Coffee Lounge, a hip little spot in downtown St. Pete that serves, among other things, as a clubhouse for under-21 fringe-culture types. She says that, if anything, political discourse has increased in the days following the election.
"They're talking about it constantly," Schilke said of her primary clientele. "I had to put a sign on the back of my chair that said 'Do not talk to me about politics.'"
"Oh yeah, I'm still hearing about it," said 18-year-old Matt Simms, sitting at a table crowded with an eclectic group of friends. "I think it'll be going on for a while."
Simms, who "wasn't too happy" about the election's outcome, admitted he was cranked up by this year's ubiquitous, youth-centric, get-out-the-vote hoopla, but said he intended to remain an informed and active voter.
Mohawked Patrick Racicot, also 18, was more outspoken in his disgust at Bush's reelection.
"I registered as soon as I could … I was getting ready for a change," he said. "How could you reelect the worst president of all time?"
Though extremely distressed, Racicot is far from beaten. He's still picking up activist literature at punk shows, and vowed to continue his activism, but said he's seriously considering a move to Canada — an extremely popular notion, at least right now and at least in conversation, among more radical and disappointed young scenesters.
There was little ennui or defeatism at The Globe. The emotions stirred up on Tuesday were still active and righteous. Like the sizable throng of young Republicans strolling USF's St. Pete campus wearing "I Voted for Bush" pins and big smiles, these kids' attitudes are still being fueled by a lengthy series of events that came to a head less than a week ago. It'll be a while before the adrenaline starts to leach out of their systems, and some perspective is gained.
Maybe then they'll tone down their partisanship, allow their slogan T-shirts to settle to the bottom of the drawer, start deleting e-mails from political associations without reading them thoroughly. But maybe not — there's still a war on, and the leader of the free world is still an incredibly polarizing character, a man for whom there seems to be no middle ground when it comes to esteem. Those that love him will undoubtedly continue to do so. And as for those that don't, well, they're all a bit bummed, but I haven't found anybody who's tired of being pissed off just yet.
scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com
This article appears in Nov 10-16, 2004.