7 long, dark nights for America: A forced metaphor
Seven long, dark nights to go.
Trump’s Daily Twitter Highlight: “Crooked Hillary should not be allowed to run for president. She deleted 33,000 e-mails AFTER getting a subpoena from U.S. Congress. RIGGED!”
Clinton’s Daily Twitter Highlight: “Election Day is in one week—and once it’s over, it can’t be redone. Is everyone you know voting?”
Daily election article of interest: What Would Florida Man Do
A week remaining. Next Tuesday evening will consist of well-groomed cable news hosts and their well-groomed talking heads parsing results. That morning I will have voted in a US election for the first time thus making me culpable in the result. This election is at once something that cannot come soon enough as well as something that I am dreading. I am dizzy and nauseous from this election.
On Sunday I took my daughter to Central Park’s Trump Carousel, so named because he had funded its renovation. It was the last day before it was shuttered for the winter and we had half a booklet of tickets to use up. Back in the spring investing in 40-odd carousel tickets had seemed like a good idea, rushing at the last minute to use them all showed it had been misguided.
So with umpteen tickets still to use we hopped on to Trump’s brightly colored Merry-Go-Round, and, serenaded by calliope music, rode. And we rode and rode until it stopped being fun, until it became boring. It was probably his golden mane, but by the third ride I noticed that the horse I was riding bore a striking resemblance to the Donald. So there I was, on an equine Trump riding along in a forced metaphor. I hope the election does not leave me feeling quite as listless and woozy.