I am not even tempted to listen to any election coverage.
This is a little surprising to me, actually, since I’m usually much given to morbid curiosity. I’m the guy who slows down to take in the gory details of a six-car highway crash. And the combination of grisly and comedic is something I usually find irresistible.
So you’d think I’d love an American election, wouldn’t you? Yet I don’t. I suspect it’s because my contrarianism is even stronger than my relish for the grisly and horrible. That is, anything I’ve been told to care about — told over and over — I am determined not to care about, no matter how gruesomely diverting it might be if I had found my own way to it.