In the wake of last week’s presidential election, the tension is palpable on the highways and in the letters to the editor. We were rear-ended while sitting at a stop sign yesterday. There seem to be more sirens and barking dogs than usual. Our social structure is beginning to unravel. Chaos cannot be too far off.

Based on the following exceprts from the Maui News letters, I think we are leaving just in time.

“The election is over; time to unite behind president”

“Too bad about the election. Nice try. Good teamwork. Really. Except for one thing: Bush did not win.”

“I don’t know how some drivers on Maui ever passed their driver’s course and got their license.”

“This election reminded me of the type of elections that generally take place in Third World democracies where politicians always play religion, personality cults, divisive social issues, etc. to win over the voters while doing little for their welfare.”

“If this election proved anything, it proved Americans want an American as their president, not a French-like girlie man.”

“In four short years George Bush has destroyed America’s stature in world opinion, launched a baseless and fallacious war against a sovereign country with the deaths of 100,000 innocent Iraqis and 1,100 U.S. soldiers, has a vice president who is in hock to Halliburton, ignored the itemized terrorists’ airliner threats, defines “life” to exclude stem cell research and excludes gays, blacks and the middle class, but bestows favors to the rich. Whew!”

“I have never been more proud to be an American than I am today (Nov. 3). Nor, have I ever been more grateful for the wisdom and basic goodness of the American people.”

“Judging from “Letters,” Democrats think Bush is a buffoon and an idiot.”

“The elephant graveyard of rapidly aging post-WWII crybaby boomers on Maui is seething with fury to judge by the Nov. 7 letters.”

“Oooh! Ahhh! That’s how it always starts. Then later there’s running and screaming.”
Jeff Goldblum as Dr. Ian Malcolm in the 1997 film The Lost World: Jurassic Park

By Camille Armantrout

Camille lives with her soul mate Bob in the back woods of central North Carolina where she hikes, gardens, cooks, and writes.

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