They’ll ask us about that Tues­day night. What’d we do, who’d we fight.
And we’ll all just smirk and say: You shoul­da seen the party.

Tonight will be one for the ages. The angst of a year that fracked our human­i­ty cul­mi­nat­ing in a (metaphor­i­cal?) orgy, cel­e­brat­ing all that it means to be a vibrant mem­ber of this great nation, of this great species. An evening of herbal release and undu­lat­ing waves of dropped beats. ¹

We’ll be upfront: we hope you’ll vote for her. This thing is just get­ting start­ed — soon we’ll be vot­ing for our­selves, for the daugh­ters and sons of Bernie and Barack — but even the clus­ter we live in today is so ter­ri­bly fragile. 

But we get it. Vote your truth.

Just please: vote.

Do it for self­ish rea­sons. As a gen­er­a­tion of entre­pre­neurs we owe it to our­selves to rec­og­nize the oppor­tu­ni­ty laid before us: a chance to roar a warn­ing that we are a gen­er­a­tion not to be fucked with, that the self-ful­fill­ing apa­thy pre­scribed by a com­plic­it media has no place here.

You can’t buy that kind of branding. 

Vote. Do it for noble rea­sons, because they will ask: where you were, what you thought, what you did. And you will be able to speak from a place of action and con­vic­tion, not a mushy mouth­ful of good intentions.

Vote. Do it because climb­ing out of a hole is eas­i­er when it isn’t made of molten quicksand.

Vote. Do it because one way or anoth­er, all of us will remem­ber tonight forever.

You’re all invit­ed. No one’s check­ing tick­ets at the door. And don’t fret if the hon­or­able weight of respon­si­bil­i­ty keeps you from a night of bump­ing like Bac­chus. You’ll be right there with us, see­ing what we see.

Just vote. Hold your breath. Then share it with the world.

#Our­Mo­ment