It’s not quite time to sigh, just yet. We’re but a mere week away from casting our votes into oblivion, as we allow the electoral college to make our choices for us and we couldn’t be less excited for it.
On one hand we have the candidate that we don’t want. On the other hand, we have the candidate that we don’t even want to be alive. As a nation, we are sad. We are tired. We are ready to just call it a day and hang up our pants. The nation is ready to go pantless, but it’s too cold, to uncaring and our underwear is too dirty.
There isn’t enough coffee in the world to get us pepped up for this one and we’ve shrugged our shoulders so much that they might spasm. We hang our heads, walk forward towards destiny and let out a collective, “F*ck it.” This is what we are and this is who we’ve become.
But it is not all at a loss.
The senate majority may change. The congress and house could be dealt a swift blow of change, right to the belt, knocking the USA in the nuts just enough to say, “hey, I kind of liked that, but wait like 3 minutes because it still hurts a bit and I’m not ready to do anything with you until that goes away. You can start undressing now but I’m going to need a few minutes to catch up with you. Put on this DVD first, I’ll join you in a few.”
We have a chance, America. We just might pull through this and make it on top, thrashing about in agony as we get there.
At the very least, there will always be fried chicken somewhere waiting for us, to console us and guide us on our way out through morbid obesity and death in our sleep. Well, unless you are a vegetarian or vegan.
Oh, and alcohol. So much alcohol. We can drink to forget and never forget to drink. Anyone can drink, if they choose to. There are vegan drinks. Most of them are, actually.
Have hope, though. We really goddamn need it.