This morning I walked into a nearly empty polling place in my neighborhood to cast my vote in the Democratic primary for the first New York City mayor’s race I can participate in. I moved here in 2003, and I’ve never been thrilled with Mayor Bloomberg, and I was looking forward to helping to vote him out.
However, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, and I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to contribute to the effort. I’m still fuming over Bloomberg’s support for the West Side stadium, and even though he failed, it seems I can’t pardon such a boneheaded move. I can’t imagine voting for him in November, even though I think he’s been okay on most points, and certainly better than any Republican I’ve ever lived under (with the possible exception of Arlen Specter.)
The thing is, the Democrats might not have my vote sewn up, either. Fernando Ferrer is likely to win the Democratic nomination, and possibly without a runoff, which is depressing. Ferrer is a buffoon with a political tin ear, and I do not relish the prospect of seeing his name in the voting booth this coming November. It would be very hard to pull it, and I’m seriously considering writing in Alfred E. Neuman.
This morning I voted for Anthony Weiner, whom I’d be glad to have as my mayor. He doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Alabama, but he still got my vote. Civic duty calls, so of course I’ll vote in November, but my options truly nauseate me. Unless somehow a miracle happens and Weiner or Miller pull ahead… ah, well.