So you heard about Vote Save America’s plan to take the 2020 fight to six battleground states and you want in? Good choice. Here’s a completely scientific, absolutely foolproof guide on how to pick one of our Adopt A State teams:
They say if you want to fry an egg, try a Scottsdale sidewalk in the middle of summer or an Aries temper on a Tuesday. Fine, nobody says that—but they could. Our point is: no one keeps it picante like an Aries. You’re spicy! You’re feisty! You terrify us! In a good way. Why not channel some of that famous rage into flipping the state that gave a platform to a flaming racist like Joseph Arpaio? Show AZ what a dry heat really looks like.
Every Taurus is a dad who wants to eat cheese and look at a lake. That’s science. And no sign better embodies the squatty, stubborn mustelid energy of the Badger State—that indescribable vibe that’s kind of like, please, just let me eat cheese and look at a lake—than you, Father Taurus. But what do you love even more than a world-class dairy industry and miles of pristine shoreline? Rules. We almost….don’t want to tell you…what the Wisconsin GOP are doing…
Geminis, it’s pretty common knowledge that you are the Mamma Mia 2 of the zodiac: not a ton of plot cohesion, but who cares when we’re having this much fun! Since MM2: Here We Go Again is the keystone of the modern film canon, we’re asking you to bring some of that trademark pizzazz to the Keystone State. Pennsylvania. We’re talking about Pennsylvania. Our point is: you’re a charismatic delight! And Pennsylvania, once solidly blue, needs to be wined-and-dined a little. You can spin a yarn like Allen Iverson could spin a basketball into an ankle-breaking killer crossover against MJ in a March 12th, 1997 Sixers-Bulls match-up. That’s right. We care about Mamma Mia and basketball. Where were we? Pennsylvania! Please help us with Pennsylvania.
Cancer: North Carolina
As the astrological sentimentalist and the author of several unsolicited scripts for a Dawson’s Creek revival project (Joey’s Brook? Pacey’s Tributary?), you owe a creative debt to North Carolina. Make good and show the Tar Heel State some love. As the stories of four smalltown pals ran through your heart, so the road to a Democratic-controlled Senate runs through North Carolina. (Also, just a warning as a friend: the cease and desists from the Dawson estate will only get scarier.)
We know the pandemic’s been especially hard for you, Leos. But, hey, you figured out how to set up your ring light so your pores look invisible on company-wide Zooms—things are looking up! Toil without spotlight has never been your way. Did J.Lo work her body like a sexy slinky to Fiona Apple to not get an Oscar nomination? (Yes, you’re still pissed about that, and so are we). You’re here for glory, so let’s get you some glory. Trump won Michigan by the smallest margin in 2016, and Democrats flipped a bunch of seats in 2018, so this is a battleground state with some good odds. Set yourself up for success then come out looking like a hero? A lesson from the Leo playbook, indeed.
We’re not saying you regularly commune with the devil, but we will say your perfectionism has contours of the sinister. A familiarity with the dark forces and some deeply repressed daddy issues can only help you in Wisconsin, where you’ll be forced to dodge the seedy tactics of a nefarious and depraved Republican party. Also, a digital sojourn to dairyland feels like a perfect fit for someone who wrote every school paper on pasteurization. A process that makes milk last longer? Has there ever been anything more Virgo?
Libra: North Carolina
You’re the perfect fit for the south. You have a natural air of diplomacy that reads as gentility, but also a proven track record of good sense that makes us trust you won’t do something wack, like get married on a plantation. We think one look at the gerrymandered map in North Carolina will so offend your innate respect for fairness and equilibrium, you’ll be hastened to action. Or you’ll get a dire case of vertigo and be forced to sit out the whole election. High risk/high reward.
You legally changed your middle name from Jessica to Vengeance. Your safe word is “recount.” You got a stick-and-poke spelling “Broward County” across your clavicle in Cyrillic two months after the 2000 election. You were 10! This one’s personal. We know the idea of a “Sunshine” state is morally and climatically opposite everything you stand for (we were actually surprised you were able to set up the wifi in your Transylvanian lair to read this), but now’s the time to right the old wrongs and steer that icy heart of yours towards some poetic justice. Help us turn Florida a bright, spiteful blue.
Face the facts: You’re the Lake Havasu of the zodiac. And once upon a time Arizona was as scarlet red on an election map as the trash vortex of solo cups floating down the ’Hav like a funeral pyre of broken dreams. No longer! Maybe! This fall, the fate of the great Southwest will depend on the participation of an expanded electorate. Yes, that includes youths. Hey, if anyone can make filling out a mail-in ballot feel like a beat drop at a Tiesto concert, it’s a Sag! So rub some aloe on those tankini sunburns, activate the emcee within, and reroute the party boat to a little dock called Civic Engagement. We know, we know, you live to fête, but in the immortal words of the Supreme Leader of the People’s Republic of Sagittarius (Britney Spears): You want a
Maserati democracy? You better work, bitch.
“Capricorn” is Latin for “The golden age of American manufacturing.” You belong in the Rust Belt, baby. You live for the grind. If anyone can convince an Obama-Trumper to vote in their own self-interest with a cold, detached, and frankly almost sociopathic delivery of hard facts and reason, it’s you. Also, did you know Kid Rock is a Capricorn? Are you really gonna let Robert James Ritchie, Sr. be the Cappy of Record in the Wolverine State? Forget the election. Take what’s yours.
Do you know what you, Paris Hilton, and Guy Fieri have in common? You’re all Aquarians. And you all hate disenfranchisement.* And probably none of you ever finished Bloodline. Aquarians are the social crusaders of the zodiac and nothing offends your moral compass like the flagrant undermining of democracy. Would you believe us if we told you that was happening in Florida right now? (Something sus going down in Florida? We were shocked, too). We know you’re not going to stand for that. We will, however, grant you permission to never finish Bloodline.
(*Crooked Media does not purport to know Paris Hilton’s or the first selectman** of Flavortown’s position on universal suffrage. Don’t sue us. This is satire).
(**Flavortown transitioned from a mayoralty to a select board-style of municipal executive government a few years back. It was a whole thing).
Tough Love O’Clock: If you spent half as much time digitally organizing for Pennsylvania as you do packing bowls and caring about the love lives of fictional betas in Scranton, this wouldn’t even be a battleground state to begin with. You owe us. Make it right.
Carolyn Seuthe is a writer and author of Staunchly, a feminist newsletter about politics, pop culture, mental health, and beauty. It has been described as, “like if Mother Jones and Goop had a baby and that baby had a personality disorder.”