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One week more. Just one more week. One more Hump Day. One more Fri-YAY. One more weekend. One more Sunday Funday. One more case of the Mondays.
Pick your least favorite, tired, annoying work-a-day pun and shout it from the rooftops because we only have ONE MORE OF THOSE BASTARDS until this dookie heap of an election cycle is ostensibly over.
That’s right, I had to add quantifier because we all know that as much as we hope to awake November 9th with a new Madame President-elect, and a leaving off of all things Drumpf, there is going to be the flotsam and jetsam surrounding us on all sides, like a moat made of deflated victory party balloons and Trump supporters’ bodily fluids.
November 9th can’t get here soon enough, but it doesn’t look like it’ll be pretty. So here are the things I am looking forward to when that day finally comes.
I hate it so much. I never ever ever want to see it again. If the internet and our new Russian overlords can make anything go away, I want it to be this gif. After you read this, I pray it self-destructs.
That’s right. Thanksgiving will still be weeks away, but if you have a Hagrid-sized inflatable Baby Jesus, a giant, resin-coated scrollwork copy of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, an entirely realistic, carol-singing Dickens village I will praise you because that means you don’t have room for a single election sign. God bless us, everyone.
I have been ear to the ground this election cycle learning all I can about the candidates, their “scandals”, their policies. I’ve been reading articles daily for more than a year, trying to absorb all I can so that I can make an informed choice. So that I could make TWO informed choices, since this started well before my state’s primary.
I’ve listened to political podcasts from every side. I’ve watched hours of post-debate commentary for every.single.debate. I’m almost John Oliver-ed and Ezra Klein-ed out (but never you, Samatha Bee). I’ve felt the need to be as well-informed a person as I’m likely to be for my age and education. BUT NO MORE. Come November 9th, I’m picking up a Young Adult book series that I’ve probably already read and not coming up for air. SCREW ALL THIS.
I’m in a secret group on Facebook for just women, where over 5,000 ladies have been sharing their fears, their wins and their stresses for months now. It’s been a great little space, BUT LORDAMERCY we are stressed out over this election.
I just want to imbibe and feel like the world is not possibly going to go the nuclear fall-out route from the end of Stephen King’s 11/22/63. I don’t want radiation poisoning, ok???
I feel like everyone is hiding a secret. Their own little secret “reasons” for whom they are voting. Maybe it’s just around here, in the South – in the Christian south – where everyone feels like Donald is terrible but Hillary is a godless baby killing monster, so you have to pretend to shake your head and “vote the platform.”
I hate it.
Want to know the percentage of people that I’m close to in my life who have been open and honest about their vote? About 4%. NO ONE is talking about it. No one is willing to be honest around someone who they think might feel differently than them. It sucks. I want to be able to look my friends and family in the eye and empathize with our current political climate and how it’s affecting us. But I can’t. Because no one is being real.
Be real. Say you’re voting for Donald Trump because you don’t hate the horrible stuff he says about people who look different than you. And while you’re being real, I will too.
True story: tonight I went with my kids and my friends’ kids trick or treating in one of our favorite neighborhoods for it. Tons of families and lit up houses. Lots of fun decorations, scary yards and run-ins with people we only see once a year on the sidewalk in costumes. One of the houses that always has a huge, scary display had an un-ironic effigy of Hillary in an electric chair. A chair that shook and sparked. I gingerly shepherded my girls away from the display in absolute horror. I heard horribly misogynist and untrue goading coming from the huge crowd of people the display attracted.
As much as I want people to be real, I don’t want this excrement disguised as fun family times invading my life. I will be more than glad to see it go.
Oh yes, come November 9th, the take over begins. Despite all the other female heads of state that have been in office for decades, the onslaught of Madame President will spark the beginning of the Oprahtopia we have been promised in the hidden cyphers in Toni Morrison and Kate Chopin novels.
HERE FOR IT.
Come on, November 9th. Get here. This gestation has been long and sickening enough.