SHE IS A 29 YEAR OLD WOMAN AND PROFESSIONAL JOURNALIST TYVM!

Voting is THE most important thing today, as anyone with two synapses firing and an unhealthy desire to shame their peers will tell you, and lines are a sign that lots of people are getting out there and voting, dammit.

I think the OP is trying to suggest that by complaining about lines on the day of the vote, it could have a similar effect as voter suppression (i.e., give people the sense of justification in choosing not to show up). There’s a fair point to be made in that argument, but it’s also that kind of point that seems to…

I think the people talking about how proud they are to be standing in line are making a well intentioned effort to convince others that it’s worthwhile. They aren’t happy that people have to wait in these huge lines, but are putting the best spin on it that they can.

I think we’ve found the next Peggy Noonan, folks.

Unfortunately not the case.  I am what many are now calling “without brain.”  As such, there is no hope for me.  Goodbei. 

I just killed you. You’re fuckin’ dead. De nada.

. . . I like the format, although the content is banal.

But maybe one risk of that is that if you peddle that enough, and with enough ferocity and moral zeal, but still don’t manage to win primaries, then the zeal of your narrative turns toxic, and the people don’t vote for a person who is clearly much better than the alternative.

Edgy bro. Just fucking vote. 

I’ve got Tuesday in the pool for how long until we find out this kid tweeted something offensive in high school.

Just like Derek Carr cried when Erin Andrews sacked him in London.

He did, however, find the secret chord.

The 49ers can’t seem to catch a break this year

Let’s hope this boosts narrow urethra awareness.

They already paid the room rental. may as well roll on with the asshattery. 

In modern industrial society only minimal effort is necessary to satisfy one’s physical needs.

I went to YouTube and insulted him in the comments, and then I led him to believe I did unspeakable things to his mother last night. He didn’t immediately respond, so I typed “Yeah, thought so” and went to bed. When I woke up, he still hadn’t written back, so I implied his sexuality was different than mine and that…

All of this.

I’m imaging a folder with a hundred ever-redder pictures of Gruden that were supposed to last through January, but it’s going off the rails so quickly that you’re just skipping dozens at a time saying “hmm, not red enough.” You’re going to run out!