Comfort in Lousy Details
Now we know specifically what woe to expect. Phew!
Radioactive lava is way better than death comets, idiot. Or is it the other way around? I only know I’m right like everyone who agrees with me. My fellow decent geniuses get everything correct, including what catastrophe causes less agony.
The results are in and out. We finally know what kind of awful we’ll get. Knowing it will be awful did not create as much comfort as hoped.
There was no drama as we ready for more melodrama. America is in store for lurching to rage fits that are unpredictable on their own and entirely predictable as a pattern of unstable behavior. Humans who act consistently irrationally may not the best choice for presidents. We already knew why it’s best to avoid a race between competing illogicalness from a former executive and kind-of incumbent.
America experienced letdown in the softest way, namely by never having high expectations in the first place. The pessimist feels vindicated. But picking the least worst was still an unfulfilling ending. This election was a Choose Your Own Adventure book where the reader got to decide which cliff to plummet off.
Permanently remaining in crash positions can’t be good for muscles. Everybody’s cramping, which explains the constant crankiness. Bracing for impact doesn’t negate the collision. Oh, this’ll just be another four wretched years off our lives hoping for autonomy. It’s nothing compared to eternity, which is what this feels like. The pending term is good practice for what’s next.
Only one style got to celebrate. The tiresome race was between the nasty people who pretend they’re nice or the nasty people who wallow in it. Each can figure out which group is theirs. As a hint, one claims to be loving as they endorse mental illness, coercion for the most dreadful initiatives, and jealousy-based seizing for growth. Said side eternally vies with lunkheaded patriotism whereby loving the government and general and candidate in particular reflects needed blind loyalty for membership. You know an election’s bad when it’s over and still feels like it’s going on.
These next few years are not going to offer merriment. The easiest guess has been accurate during any time there’s been Earth. Noting woe is on the horizon and overhead is simply more obvious during this advanced era of primitive notions. Goods become hard to obtain precisely when they’re promised. The uselessness of guaranteers involving plundering remind us why politics should never should be at the forefront. Getting drunk is great, but I wish you didn’t have to deal with the elevated mood.
The election’s loser was everyone else. People who like the Constitution want government banished to the degree that we don’t notice who’s head of state constantly so we can get on with our lives. The tiresome habit of electing presidents who insist on getting in our faces is one of those occasions for learning the downsides of bipartisanship.
Anyone who knew the ballot bum fight was going to conclude with a dreadful result struggles to feel vindicated. Knowing what kind of shameless pandering was in store will dampen anyone’s enthusiasm. We merely waited to see whether empty preening involved hugging an American or pride flag. The impression that neither finalist cares about the country unites bitter enemies.
Awareness of how depressing the result was bound to be allows for mental preparation. Highway chases of felons seem futile until realizing the fleer is using the time to enjoy one last speeding countryside tour while preparing for the clink. Electoral motorists didn’t need to see who was going to win to know this was going to end with spike strips and pepper spray.
A distressing Super Bowl pitting the 49ers against the Chiefs was supposed to teach about life. Why else follow sports: to see who catches the ball? Hating the possibility of either winning is ultimately unfulfilling but the best choice given the presented options. Dejected viewers outside the two fanbases already knew what it’s like to have both as reigning champs, so cherish memories of each feeling downcast.
It doesn’t take a haruspex to know torment awaits. Nobody can afford pork entrails. The alleged prophecy aides are redundant when an astute observer can see that a ghastly person will make a ghastly president. Awareness of what will happen just means less flinching. Voters went with enacting tariffs over printing money as the surefire lock for prosperity.
Guessing the future is easy when it’s going to be so hard. I told you so about forecasting in general and what’s specifically forecasted. Being correct about how woeful conditions will be for yet another term offers next to no happiness. The looming president will not install happy feelings. Don’t tell his fan club, as their disappointment is the smallest comfort to come. Gloating is only so mirthful, especially when the reason for it means debt will continue to grow. Cultists who anticipate universal bliss deserve the pending shock.