We need more than actuarial calculations about how many more years we have until Social Security benefits need to be adjusted. We need a goal — something more practical than a moon base. We need a mission. We need a reason to get out of bed on Election Day.I do understand that this whole get-outta-bed thing is just a trope, but I've gotta ask: what gets you out of bed on any other day? I just don't get this mode of thought, in which life itself is arranged around electoral issues, in which you don't rise in the morning because you've got to work or because the dog needs a walk or because the kids need to get to the school bus or because you need to get groceries or because you want to fuck your wife or blow your boyfriend or because it's already sixty degrees and the sun is up at seven o'clock and you can get in a quick 25-mile ride or because this one life and the living of it is the one goddamn gift the infinite and infinitely indifferent universe gives to you, the only thing you possess with actual and intrinsic value, the one irreducible commodity in your existence, which is your existence, and to do anything other than wake up and walk out while you still fucking can is the only real sin and the one unpardonable offense against all the billions of other people who get the fuck out of bed despite bearing heavier burdens than any newspaper-reading American has likely ever borne--no, rather, you remain recumbent, depressed, washed-over with darkness because no Presidential candidate has whistled the properly arousing tune, sounded the spiritual reveille; your life is as worthless as a limp balloon until inflated with the Presidential helium. You can't get out bed on Election Day without inspiration? I bet you can't jerk off without porn, either. The problem is one of insufficient imagination.