I didn't watch the last debate. Instead, I watched the Dodgers get slaughtered by the Cubs. It was a heated and passionate Game 4. Yet without even watching the debate, I know that this race to the World Series was gentler and less anxiety-inducing than the Clinton-Trump throw-down must have been. That cow that was lowered over the electric fence in "Jurassic Park" was more Zen than I feel watching CNN.

I didn't watch the last debate. I have to keep saying it because I barely believe it myself. I grew up as a product of Greater Washington, D.C. My parents — a teacher and a psychologist — did not work in the political landscape, so I did not see myself as much of a politiphile. It wasn't until I got to college and realized I knew more about our government than 99 percent of my fellow freshmen — and Gary Johnson. You can't help it when you live in the D.C. area. It's in the water — like fluoride and the much-rumored-about-but-I-totally-believe-they-are-in-there Sea-Monkeys. Yet I did not watch the debate.

Fatigue perhaps? Or a general clinging to a more decent, less cringe-worthy time. When I was a kid, the president of the United States seemed like this mythical wizard — someone you would aspire to be in the same way that I would aspire to be a unicorn or Michael Jordan or, more accurately, Michael Jordan in "Space Jam." There was power and promise and reverence and a slight suspicion of some behind-closed-doors cross-dressing. (You know I'm not just talking about Bugs Bunny.) But now it is as if someone pulled back the curtain and the reality is not to anyone's liking. Perhaps this is not new. Perhaps this is just the experience of going from child to adult. But it doesn't feel that way. It feels as if we, as an entire nation, just went from child to adult. And we aged to be paunchy and tubby and bitter and scared, like Robin Williams in "Hook" before he got his bangarang back.

I did not watch the debate. Mostly because I didn't have to. My vote is set. It has been for some time. I don't understand the Ken Bones of the world. Sure, I understand that he is the long-lost half brother of Mister Rogers. He clearly knits his own bright red sweaters with the same meticulous consideration and love that he uses when he combs his mustache. I get that. But I don't understand how he is undecided. How is anyone undecided with candidates so vastly different (even if they could come together for a brief moment of mutual admiration after Kenny B's most adorable question)?

I didn't watch the last debate because I honestly would rather have done anything else. Truly, almost anything. Bungee jumping? Sure. Why not? I can't even stand roller coasters, but right about now, I'm ready to jump off a bridge. I'd rather sit through listening to Gilbert Gottfried taking opera singing lessons than watch another debate. I'm sure there would be pleasure in supporting such a lost cause. Shaving my head would also be preferred — and you all know how I feel about hair. Sucking snake venom out of the paw of a leper leopard is about where I draw the line. But I'm even open to considering that. My friend spent a summer collecting bull elephant ejaculate and artificially inseminating female elephants in Arkansas. That sounds triumphantly superior to hearing any more political banter. But with my luck, the elephants would want to talk politics. Much like the case with growing up in D.C., when you're born the animal mascot of a political party, speaking like a government PowerPoint presentation is in your blood.

I did not watch the last debate. But I will go out and vote Nov. 8. Not voting is not an option. I will suffer for the next 10 years with a horrifying new driver's license photo because I was so determined to get my ducks in a row for registering to vote in a new state. Because despite my pulling out of engaging further in the political punching match between the two opponents, I have no desire to pull out of the political process. This is a democracy that I am honored to get to participate in — and I would be even if I had to flirt with elephants from now until Election Day.

Katiedid Langrock is author of the book "Stop Farting in the Pyramids," available at http://www.creators.com/books/stop-farting-in-the-pyramids. Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. To find out more about her and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.