Election Jones

I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. All my hopes and dreams had come to fruition last Tuesday, I should be feeling great. And I was—for about two days after the election.

For a couple of days there I felt vindicated, optimistic, proud and giddy high. Obama heralds a new age, or, at the very least, the end of an old, used-up one. And I still believe those things.

So why do I have the shakes? Why this nervous feeling of unease, of something missing, why do I have the rocking pneumonia and the boogie-woogie flu? Why am I sweating like a Mormon missionary being chased by a pack of pissed off homosexuals in San Francisco?

I mean, I’m not gay, nobody destroyed my marriage last week, just for spite. So what has my skin all itchy-twitchy and my guts in an uproar? Why is my achy-breaky heart pounding like it’s auditioning for the hip hop awards?

We won, right?

And then I got it. Yes, we won, and that means it’s over. I’m not depressed about the outcome, I’m in withdrawal. I’ve spent the last twenty-four months mainlining news, conflict, opinion and drama daily. I’m coming down hard off a two-year-long, four-hour-a-day habit. The excitement is gone, the suspense is gone, the conflict is gone, the drama is gone, I’m jonesing my ass off.

My name is Snark and I’m an election junkie. I bet some of you are too.

That’s the most important thing to remember, we are not alone. There are millions of us. A nation that last week provided pure, uncut, election buzz for zero dollars a gram has now dried up totally. There isn’t a good election high on offer anywhere. And the cheap, Al Franken, senate race stuff doesn’t cut it; it’s just seeds and stems.

It’s all gone now, not a thrill to be had. And if you think it’s bad for us, what about the TV news opinion pushers? We’re talking Panic in Pundit Park.

Unfortunately, there is no 12 step program for us election junkies, no media methadone to help us come down slow. We have to do it ourselves.

I’ve been trying to do just that, but it’s really hard. I’m trying to get clean, to restart my normal life. But it’s hard to get reacquainted with the wife and kids when you’re on the toilet half the time. It’s hard to concentrate on your work when your sweaty fingers have a mind of their own and go blog crazy on the office keyboard, searching desperately for an election fix that isn’t there.

I got so pathetic I spent an hour googling Ted Stevens at 3 AM while my wife cried tears of loneliness in our cold, empty bed. That’s when I knew I’d hit rock bottom. It was time to get straight or die.

It’s been rough, I won’t kid you. There have been times I didn’t think I would make it.

But with Jesus’s help and a whole lot of heroin I’m getting my life back. I’m in recovery now, I admitted my powerlessness over my addiction, put my life in the hands of a higher power and, little by little, I’m getting better.

So can you, if you admit your affliction and treat your malady like the disease it is. You aren’t depressed, you aren’t unhappy, your life isn’t a total mess, you are in withdrawal, you are kicking, admit that and you have a fighting chance.

One day at a time, my friends. At least for the next thousand days. After that the 2012 campaign will be in full swing and the election dope will flow like water.

I already feel a relapse coming on.

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