Imagine you’re in a school, and your school needs a new principal, and because your school is one of the more progressive schools around, the kids get to elect the principal they want. You have the power. That’s how it works.
There’s a bunch of options, and at some point you all vote for one, and then the teachers withdraw into their murky lounge and there’s some murky process and at the end of it the teachers say, Ta-daaa! Here are your two candidates.
You’re not really sure what happened in there, but the teachers said they’d take care of the pesky specifics, and that they’d roll the options out. So here they are. They’re super different.
One is the auto shop teacher, who’s some kind of wildebeest-badger-orangutan (who, because of his facial expressions and flame-colored complexion and crazy forest fire-like hair, owns a head that looks like it’s in the middle of exploding).
The other one is the English teacher, some kind of cat/koala thing, with slow movements and big eyes and clean, coarse-looking hair that’s parted very precisely and stylized so rigidly into a complex series of waves that it looks like you could dent it.
The two candidates start coming around to different classrooms to talk about why they’re better than the other one. You notice, right away, that one of them talks more like how you talk than how a teacher talks. He seems to be talking directly to you, and to all your friends.
The other one’s different. She seems to be talking to a metaphorical audience that might include you.
Almost immediately, deep in your gut, and deep in the guts of all your friends, the truth begins to rumble.
She’s No Good.
He’s Your Guy.
Everyone’s starts talking about who they want, because The Next Principal is a super-big deal.
The second time Your Guy comes to your classroom to give a little talk you notice that Your Guy, who’s new and teaches auto shop, is saying some mean things about the other option, the English teacher, who’s been around forever, and is also saying some mean things about those who might choose to vote for the English teacher, whoever those idiots might be. He’s also saying that he plans to kick a lot of kids out of school, the ones who are causing all the problems, or at least will be causing all the problems in the future. They must go. On this we must agree.
Maybe that seems a little extreme to you, but Your Guy and all your friends are kindof saying the same general thing: too bad for them, it’s the right thing to do, and he’s strong enough to do it and he’s doing it for you–You, who are voting for Your Guy; you, who are simply The Best, the most deserving, the most full of past and presently unrealized potential.
And this feels great! No principal, or potential-principal, has ever called you The Best. You’re The Best!
You and all your friends are voting for Your Guy, and all your not-friends are voting for Their Gal.
That’s how it works.