Let's talk about voting, which apparently almost none of you did last week.
And that's not my opinion; 37 percent of eligible voters, the lowest turnout since 1942, took part in the midterm elections last Tuesday. That number flat out sucks.
If it doesn't outrage you, then you're probably someone who didn't vote, and I know why you didn't.
These stats on voter turnout are even more hard to swallow considering how much we all saw on Twitter and Facebook about local and federal candidates. Plenty of media outlets did stories on the impact of social media on the election, which may have seemed feasible at the time but by now look like a bunch of bull hockey.
According to Pew research, the American adult social media population (so everyone old enough to vote) is about 203.5 million. That's about 74 percent of the entire adult online population.
The amount of people who voted last week is about 78,340,840. So, if Pew's math is correct (and it usually is), the 2014 voter turnout was about 28 percent of the entire adult online population and about 38 percent of the entire social media population.
But wait, there's more!
Consider that 37 percent of the people who voted last Tuesday were over the age of 60. Now, my grandmother has a Facebook, and I know of many other elderly people who can navigate their way around the Internet exceptionally well. But the fact of the matter is, they're a minority.
So, at best, only about one-third of the entire adult social media population actually voted. I bet I know what happened to the rest.
Let me put it this way: America votes the way I hit on women, in that it doesn't happen very often.
Here's a running inner-dialogue that occurs every time an attractive, seemingly single woman is in the same general area as me (bar, social function, etc.):
"Oh wow, she's cute. I should try and talk to her. I wonder what she's drinking, maybe I should buy one for her….then again, she might have a boyfriend. Heck, even if she doesn't, it looks like she's out with friends. Why should I bother her? Odds are, we probably don't share a lot of interests. And I'm a journalist, I don't have a whole lot of free time in my life. It would all just be pointless. Check, please."
No matter how much I know about myself, something like this happens every time in my head and I cannot stop it. It also happens to today's average registered voter.
Most Americans, about 40 percent, consider themselves moderates. As a result, they've got a polarized political system pulling them from the left and the right. On Election Day, they are forced to make a choice. And this is what happens.
Let's change the situation for this new inner-monologue, this time average Joe/Jane voter: "Oh wow, it's Election Day. I should go vote this morning. Here's my polling place on my registration card. Ouch, that's a bit out of the way and I'm already running late. I'll vote at lunch. *lunch comes and goes* Crap, I forgot to vote! I'll do it after work. *5 p.m. arrives* Oh, I still need to vote. But I really need to pick up (insert child name here) from (activity.) I could bring him/her with me, but by now that line's probably around the corner. Plus I still need to make dinner. And to be honest, I don't know most of the candidates, and I have no clue about the local propositions. By now, it just seems pointless. Whatever, I'll live with it."
In both cases, none of those excuses are real. They are invented when it comes to making a decision about something we are not confident about. Instead, we prefer to just stay on the fence and do nothing, because it's comfortable and doesn't ruffle any feathers.
The problem is we can't change anything from the fence. Overcoming this will be the biggest hurdle to correct the trend of less voter involvement (and for me to actually go out on a date).
But it's already clear; we're all pretty bad at jumping.