So here’s the deal. You’ve been stranded on a desert island for the past 4 years. You’re unhappy and extremely thirsty. In fact, it hasn’t rained in a while, and the thirst is getting to a point where it just might kill you. You are desperate.
But then you hear news of a rescue ship. It’s on its way, but could take a while to reach you. You’re told that when they do reach you, they have an endless supply of blue Gatorade for you. You’re ecstatic. You fucking love blue Gatorade. It’s unique. It’s satifying. You haven’t had it in forever. It’s exactly what you need to feel better. You start dreaming about it night after night. How good it’ll taste, how the moment you sip it, it’ll change your life for the better.
The rescue ship arrives. You are so, so thirsty. “Here you go!” says one of the rescue workers, and hands you a cup of water. The water is lukewarm. You know you should drink it, because you’re in a really bad spot, but you have to ask– “Where’s the blue Gatorade? I got so excited for blue Gatorade. I was told there would be blue Gatorade.”
The rescue workers apologize and explain that the blue Gatorade expired, and they had to throw it out. It was no longer drinkable.
You are devastated. You got so excited for blue Gatorade. You can’t imagine another option, because you were so determined to feel that cold, sugary sweetness go down your throat. Lukewarm water is such a disappointment in comparison.
Then you spot a bottle of unidentified liquid on the floor of the boat, and a glimmer of hope comes back. “What’s THAT?” you ask, hoping it could be Gatorade.
“We don’t know for sure,” a rescuer explains, “but we are pretty certain it’s poison. Or an explosive. Either way, we are 99.9% sure that whatever it is, it’ll kill you.”
You sit back and weigh your options. You could drink the lukewarm water– it’s not exactly what you wanted, or truly satisfying in this moment, but it will sustain you and keep you alive.
Or, you could choose the unidentified liquid, which is almost guaranteed to put you in grave danger.
Or you could choose neither option, and die a slow, painful thirst-induced death. And no one will feel sorry for you, because, well, you kind of did this to yourself.
And that, Bernie Sanders supporters, is why you should vote for Hillary.