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What's a fingerhut?

For the past several months my life has been hijacked by CNN and MSNBC. I am an election coverage addict. So deeply in tune with the oscillations of the news cycle, I could scarcely be bothered to leave my couch for trivial things like classes, meals and bodily hygiene. And today, with election results coming in, and the cable channels unveiling a 24-hour parade of Wolf Blitzers, Chris Matthews and Anderson Coopers, I surely couldn’t be bothered for something so menial as voting.

To give you a taste of my insanity, I give you an election blog: the chronicle of events in my sweaty room filled with eight other true believers on election night.

7:30 — Tequila shot #1. The night begins with a groundswell of solidarity. We have hours to go.

7:42 — Someone named Fingerhut is losing a Senate race in Ohio. What the hell is a fingerhut, anyway? Perhaps it is the name of some mediocre third wave ska band—short for Super Bombastic Fingerhut.

8:28 — Vanessa Kerry appears on CNN. Is she the lovechild of John Kerry and Anne Coulter? There are eerie resemblances. Maybe it is just John Kerry in an Anne Coulter wig for Halloween.

8:30 — Tequila shot #2. Drew shows up with a bottle of Remy Red and a bottle of Hpnotiq. Red and blue liquor. We will drink each bottle when the respective candidate reaches 200 electoral votes.

8:42 — Nick starts beat-boxing “Dirt Off Your Shoulder.” Rob kicks in with the synth line.

8:57 — James Carville is on CNN. Did anyone ever notice that he looks just like Michel Foucault? That’s what Rob and Zane say, anyway. Bald, thin, crazy glasses. I wonder what Carville thinks about genealogical history… He is the Ragin’ Cajun after all—that makes him part French.

9:00 — Tequila Shot #3—We drink to Ohio. Every time I drink a shot of tequila with salt and lime I get this wave of euphoria from my brain, shooting through my arms and evaporating out my fingertips. The others call it foul. Hah!

9:09 — What are the candidates doing while the results come in? Two theories: videogames or fat chronic blunts. Do you drug test presidents? There must be a way around a drug test if you are the most powerful man in the world. There are hundreds of pounds of marijuana in a Harlem building, but they aren’t contributing to juvenile delinquency. They are contributing to a hallucinogenic illusion that is “Bill Clinton, term three.”

9:29 — Unconfirmed reports that Alan Greenspan had sex with Ayn Rand. Zane confirms that he was part of her circle back in the day. Greenspan has had inflation under control for 12 years—does this mean we should all be objectivists?

9:42 — Shouts from the corner. I’m no pinko! I’m straight up red! Take the furry lime!

9:47 — Apparently in the ’50s women were supposed to drink whiskey... and now Adam is drinking Smirnoff Ice. This does not bode well for our culture of manliness.

9:48 — Half of the group disappears. If they aren’t back when it hits 200 we’ll drink all the red stuff by ourselves.

9:50 — Finally they get cameras on George W. Bush and his family. My attention is usurped by Zane. Man, that Bush daughter’s boyfriend is a square-faced, slack-jawed, yokel. Well put, Zane. Well put.

10:13 — Six subs arrive from Jimmy Johns. The others aren’t back. We don’t eat the subs. Zane thinks this is the Wild West—you get your sandwich, you eat your sandwich. But seriously, he is no pinko, he’s straight red. Show some solidarity!

10:15 — I start writing this column.

By the time you read this column, it will surely be late Wednesday morning. Hopefully someone will have been elected president of the United States. Whatever the result, though, I won’t know about it. I am currently asleep and recovering from a state of profound and existential drunkenness. With any luck I have Teresa Heinz-Kerry with me in my dreams. Man, she is a real hottie. Hopefully I won’t get sniped by Elizabeth Edwards.


Andrew Waugh is a Trinity senior.


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