Millenials Lack Previous Generation's Diehard Party Loyalty

I'm outside with the smokers. They are the people

who stand apart from the bar atmosphere of loud music and closed groups. I prefer their company. Whether it's the booze or Halloween costumes everyone feels like talking. Talking about the social faux pas of the moment: politics.

The words are basic with no one wanting to admit just how divided the country is. I expect here, in the heart of a place known for Democratic leaning, to find diehard Hillary supporters. Dracula abruptly makes an exit on broaching Clinton corruption. "You vote for who you want, I'll vote for who I want. Doesn't matter what you say!" Surprisingly touchy he stalks to the edge of street. I'm not surprised.

The ones who remain admit freely they are voting Green Party. They are blatantly honest about their candidate winning. "Then why bother?" My interest is peaked. "Change." Their belief is in finally putting a real third party on the map. One free of the Democrat-Republican bullshit. "That chance ended with Ralph Nader" is my best attempt to explain I see scant hope of a revolution the globalists will never allow. 

A young man speaks up from the fringe of our smoky group. "I'm voting Libertarian." He's not a liberal. The Libertarian party is different but the alcohol makes for little explanation and he wanders off in search of a better topic. 

The rest slowly drift away until a James Dean clone remains with a man in a hideous fur coat. "You're not from around here." His voice is much softer as though we are the only two still speaking. I haven't lived in the city since graduating from college. These bars are not the places I can be found. He knows the lake I live on. The same eccentric millionaire with a passion for hoarding who receives a cold glance from the surrounding neighborhood. Both of us don't see the problem with a man resembling Santa Clause who turned his back on the business world. "We're different. The two of us. We see it differently." He's brutally honest of his shame to admit he doesn't share his friend's views. Whether this means he supports Trump or refuses to vote completely never emerges. Touchy Dracula returns to forcefully explain they are leaving.

I take their cue to return to the dim bar scene where my friends await. They too are voting Green Party. Amidst their strongly Democratic neighborhood they remain proud voters for a party which will never win. Their vote never wavers. Every year it's always for a party which stands alone from the ones sharply dividing this country's future. Only this election year they are being joined by more than a simple few. I suddenly am seeing signs everywhere this election is different. Millennials don't live by diehard loyalties to a party. Why should they? Neither represents the change they see as imperative for a new future. 

Their fervor gives me a glimpse of hope into America's future. This new generation lacks the diehard party stance. For years people have defined themselves by years of being Democrats or Republicans. They are so static in loyalty it blinds them to their candidate's faults. This is what makes me disagree with the James Dean clone. We are not 'different.' All of us feel a drastic change is the only route to saving this country. The old generation of voters and the media (especially the media!) would be smart to recognize fear over a specific political party in the White House is an outdated tool. Candidates are being judged on themselves, sans party. If they are not enough the millennials will choose another route.

British Press Stupidly Dumbfounded at Response to 'Unaccompanied Minor' Appearance

Britain's newest unaccompanied minors from the Calais

Jungle arrived with towels over faces to 'protect' their identity. Measures taken only after the initial unaccompanied minors were met with disbelief by their readers. Damage control articles scolded readers 'these are those most vulnerable' 'their appearance is only a byproduct of war or background' 'Ignore the obvious signs of adulthood!.' No medical checks necessary as the department continues to go off vague requirements relying heavily on a minor's declaration of age sans proof.

Each new blunder by the Home Office on the insistence to not bother with medical checks digs the press into a futher hole. For months they fed images of sweet toddlers holding dirty blankies, mothers clutching innocent babies, and families broken-hearted in the midst of deplorable refugee camps. These were the vulnerable ones they cried! How can a people be so selfish as to close their borders to those most desperately in need of help?! Shame on any who refuse to open a home to them! 

The heartbreaking images were a complete mockery when fourteen teenagers and young men stepped off a bus fresh from the Calais Jungle into the arms of a waiting crowd. How ironic to see those most vulnerable contained no teary toddlers, no young mothers with sweet babes, and lacked a single girl. Girls, the sex most vulnerable in the Calais camp, the ones most at risk of sexual assault in an environment predominantly of men from cultures whose views on women vary greatly. Are there no vulnerable unaccompanied girls in Calais? Are There no pregnant woman in Calais in dire need of adequate prenatal care? Has the press not been spending months using their images to evoke a movement to open British borders to them? 

Every press member who did their best to hide the blatant fact most 'refugees' are young men deserve the public's ire. The carefully crafted story unraveled before the public on the day those unaccompanied minors arrived. Scolding the public for their disgust at finding the vast majority refugees to not be the innocent mothers and children they toted is dumbfounding. The press has only one option to save what fragile trust the public holds in their words. Admit the farce they have been perpetuating since the refugee crisis began. Kindly remove their cranium from up their posterior. Finally stop pissing on the public with half-truths and return to their purpose: telling the facts without the BS.