Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Building Bonfires Something Like Eyelashes

Let me explain. I promised Loved Ones I'd vote on issues/people important to them. I got to polling station, the line is at an hour. I brought a book but too distracting to read, I put in earbuds and put iPhone on shuffle and decided whoever was in ears when I cast my ballot would be my write-in choice for POTUS. Thirty seconds earlier it'd been Meredith Monk, two minutes later it'd been Julie Doiron, but this was in my ears when I voted:

  • UPDATE! Planet tells me posting that photo of the ballot is illegal. Come and get me, Copper.
  • I did not cause HRC to lose Maryland.
  • I thought HRC would win, by less than 2012 Obama, but win. I'm surprised, but not shocked.
  • I underestimated how many white women would break for Trump. And I overestimated how much gender would be the tribal affiliation to, um, trump.
  • It is entirely possible to hold the position that Hillary Clinton is the most unfairly maligned and attacked candidate of our lifetimes AND to hold the position she's the stupidest, shittiest campaigner ever.
  • Loved ones and friends and colleagues are distraught, so
  • HRC's autopsy can start tomorrow or whenever.
  • Though this: this isn't Comey, this isn't wikileaks, this isn't BernieBros, this isn't Jill Stein, this is HRC's and DNC's alone.

Anne Sexton, born 88 years ago today:


  1. I'm hungover. And not in a good way.

  2. I blame society.

  3. Thanks, America! Didn't see *that* coming!

    Incidentally, our Place Of Labor is advising all of us to leave now for the day and avoid planned demonstrations and 'police activity'.

  4. HRC autopsy? Nah. Instead, we should expect a DNC autopsy.

  5. Thomas Frank wrote the autopsy report before HRC's campaign was dead.