You know what? I hate the current crop of Dems. I hate the Conciliator in Chief who lives in the WH, the cool young guy who took the job away from the experienced older woman who could have actually done the job. And you know what else? My old, tired, disillusioned, broken body is going to show up on November 2nd and vote for the lesser of two evils.
And, if you stay home, if some effete "enthusiasm gap" keeps you away from the polls, well, then, with all due respect, fuck you.
I will never not vote. It cost my foremothers too much to win this right for me.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."