Hands. Eyes. Assembly required.

I'm off today, once I get home.
I'm going to the polls, then I'm going to be shopping for odds and ends, and I'll probably catch a flick. (Hacksaw Ridge looks like a safe bet.)

Beyond that, there's no point in getting interested in things any earlier than about 5PM PST.
If Trump pulls FL, NC, VA, and pries loose PA and/or OH, this could be an epic F. U. to the media pundits, and their chosen Felon.

If he doesn't do that, it's going to be like watching the Hindenburg come in to Lakehurst for a landing, in slow motion, over and over and over again.

All that's at stake is whether the country finally throws the brakes on eight years of the current obamination, and declines to elect a women more corrupt, before she ever gets to the Oval Office, than the administrations of Grant, Harding, Nixon, and her husband, combined.

Or whether instead we collectively vote ourselves into a perpetual banana republic.

It's rare to know that a given day will presage the course of a generation, as the sun is barely breaking over it.
And I could have lived without the knowledge this time around too.

The only thing tempering the possible dread is the knowledge that in less than twenty-four hours, things should be decided.

I can cross my fingers, and hope for the least awful outcome between the horns of two turdburgers.
But I'd just as soon not watch the roulette ball rolling around waiting for the answer of which slot into which it will drop.
And besides, there's still a lot of work to do, either way.

                                                       TINVOWOOT