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  • "It's noisy over in your neck of the woods, mmm?" she asked me silently. Her left ear twitched as a fly buzzed near.

    "Yep" I answered. "Election time y'know. Everyone gets all wound up, wants to stand up on a milk crate, start shouting..."

    "To whooooooom" she mooed gently. Shook her head to get rid of that pesky fly. Chomped on a wad of grass.

    I had to think about that one for a few seconds. Who was I referring to exactly? Who is shouting? And to whom?

    "Well, friends, mostly, I guess. On facebook, places like that... it's all posturing, ya know? Fake debate, preaching to the choir. No one's going to argue with them, of course, only cheer them on. And it accomplishes nothing really, because the whole time everyone is pounding their fists on the podium, they are pontificating to others exactly like them - the only ones listening. It's kinda funny really, when you think about it... everyone shouting through the megaphone, fists raised to the sky! with no one who could be persuaded even watching. Why would they? It's all so inflammatory..."

    Slowly she'd turned her head back to look at her bovine friends all standing 'round the hay bale, munching. They all seemed so content in their silence, so comfortable in their heavy framed simplicity. Four sets of huge soulful eyes taking it all in, evenly, looking in our direction now, over at the two of us.

    Compulsively I was twisting a blade of grass in my hands. I looked down at it, realizing the action as a symptom of how annoyed I'd become - at all the noise, all the grandstanding, at the polarized nonsense of it all. How no one backs anything up with facts anymore, just loudmouthed editorial. How this election has brought out the worst in people, and not just politicians - normal people, people I love. I cannot bear to hear any more half-cocked grandiosity and cannot imagine a career worse than politics. How this cannot be over soon enough for me.

    She turned her head back to me. "Well, it all sounds pretty silly to us" she stared at me, unblinking. "Silly humans. Frenzied flesh eaters..." I saw a glint in her eye as her head dropped down to pull up another emerald tuft. A flock of geese just then flapped by overhead, honking in agreement. Ha, I thought. How humorous would it be if while we are busy poking at eachother, tearing eachother down, proving our species superiority, they might be just laughing at us? "They" meaning the farmyard crew, the winged ones above, the crickets busy with more much more urgent matters - trying to get it on! secure the future of their gene pool, these few last times before the first real freeze. All of them chuckling at the follies of we frenzied flesh eaters.

    I walked home in the diminishing light, glancing up to catch the stars pinhole peeping through the ink streaked skies. Just less than three weeks shy of the election, and I made a vow - I'll do what feels right in the privacy of that ballot box, and have nothing to say about it. No convincing, rationalizing, explaining, evangelizing. Nothing. Except to Bessie, of course.
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