Election Night Insanity

... and a few laughs to stave off my impending nervous breakdown

I just got back from an otherwise amazing trip to Denver last night, where apparently a HARRIS/WALZ yard sign factory exploded, raining its contents over damn near every lawn in the Mile High City. Heartening, it was not.

(Props to the three or four homes bold enough to fly an American flag though! And can we talk about how depressing it is that loving your country automatically makes you a deplorable bag of garbage?)

Today has been brutal. MSM—which faithful readers know I only torture myself with to stay on top of the propaganda—is all but pre-calling Harris’s win and swooning over her epic exit polling numbers. Which is a bit hard to believe, particularly when they’re also grudgingly reporting actual facts that would suggest quite the opposite:

Call me crazy, but that stat right there couldn’t bode well for Kackala… could it?

Me, Myself, and I have been at each other’s throats all day long.

Me: She might actually win. I mean, it would be stolen, but she might just pull it off.

Myself: But! But! She’s a moron! An utter nitwit! People see that, right? I mean, they have to.

I: Guys, relax. Remember how popular Trump was when he was just Trump? Now he’s a Bobby-Elon-Tulsi-Tucker-Joe—Hell yeah, we got Rogan!—Vivek-JD burrito! That combo is unbeatable. Trust me. We got this.

Me: Trust you? What if you’re wrong? We’re not talking about paper or plastic here. This is common sense versus communism! Paradise versus purgatory! Liberty versus lockdowns! It’s a Wonderful Life versus Nightmare on Elm Street! Tonight could be the beginning of the utter, absolute end. [*sobs into pillow*]

Myself: Maybe… but… I mean… what about the Peanut thing? Who could vote for a democrat after that?

I: Trump is more popular than ever. Polls lie. Tonight the people will speak!

Me: I’m afraid of the people who aren’t even legal citizens speaking.

Myself: Me’s right. How can we combat that? We should have screamed louder… donated more… voted harder… something.

I: The betting markets—and that one Jim Carrey-in-Dumb-and-Dumber-looking psychic—all say Trump. Have a drink and start planning how we’re going to spend all that money we won’t be paying in income taxes anymore. [*pours and lifts a healthy glass*] Cheers!

It’s exhausting.

Me and Myself asked if I would pretty-please share some positive headlines, so here you go:

And this isn’t a headline but a line from an ABC piece that actually made me LOL.

Um… you think?

I’m trying to hold onto my cautious but relentless optimism, but as you can see, Me and Myself are taking a toll. Together we’re torn. Terrified. An absolute emotional trainwreck. Tell me how you’re feeling in the comments. Bonus points if you can make me laugh while you do it! :)

P.S. I do not know who made this but they deserve an award. Enjoy!

There’s not a single sentence in this book in which Kamala Harris is a winner.