In a couple of hours, it’s November 5. Der Tag! The Day! The future is unwritten, our fates are balanced on a knife’s edge, but fear not! I’m here to tell you, we’re going to win this thing. We are. I just know it. The polls are wrong, because they have to be. Trump is a spent force. He’s winding up his campaign with a series of baffling missteps and ignorant provocations, to the point of delivering a pantomime blow job to his mic stand at one of his sparsely populated, low energy rallies. The garbage man schtick landed with a pathetic, blubbery thud. His policy proposals, such as they are, are wildly unpopular, as is Project 2025, and nobody, not even those determined to vote for him, really likes the guy any more.
I’m telling you.
Look, I’m not saying we aren’t going to get our hair mussed. Trump will do everything he can to subvert Kamala’s vIctory, there’ll be the court challenges, the attempts at civil unrest, it’s going to be ugly, and we might not know for sure until a couple of weeks have gone by, but c’mon, there won’t be another Trump Presidency, it just isn’t possible.
It isn’t.
Look, I don’t want to argue about it, it just isn’t and that’s that. Not even this shit show of a universe is capable of that level of absurdity. I know this for a fact. You’ll see. Tomorrow is going to be fun, and a great relief, do you hear? We’re going to triumph! We beat this unreasoning mound of orange Crisco before, and we’ll beat him again. We’ll beat him like a rented mule. We’ll club him like a baby harp seal, mark my words. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more! I swear by all that’s holy, we will not, cannot lose!!!
You’ll see.
the needlefish 