I wrote a prediction Monday morning about the aftereffects of the 2020 election. Let’s see how I did.
I woke up Wednesday morning with a stretch and a yawn. “Odd,” I thought, “Since the Presidential Election is still undecided. You would have thought there might be a minor earthquake, or possibly a tsunami commensurate to the occasion.”
Oddly enough, there were no catastrophes. The sun rose, people went to work, and life, despite dire warnings to the contrary, went on. Sure, there were clamors for a recount, but that has become as commonplace in an election as to have turned into a cliche.
I wonder if there will be an economic upswing once the dust settles. After all, after the last four years, there are fences to mend and burnt bridges to be repaired. Sure, it’s emotional infrastructure. But our country cannot continue down this path and still survive. For goodness sake, married couples broke up over political divisions during this Administration. That is the sure sign that a country’s priorities need to be readjusted.
Truth be told, I thought liberal anger at Hillary’s Clinton’s loss in 2016 would dissipate within a month of Election Day. Boy, did I underestimate the Left’s ability to hold a grudge. And to that point…
Blithering. Used in a sentence, “That voter is a blithering idiot.” By the way, how do you blither? A little research revealed that to blither is to talk on and on without any real substance. Not to be confused with blathering which means, um, to talk on and on without any real substance. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the Election.
That digression is my not-so-subtle way of suggesting that as mad/sad/verklempt as you may be after Tuesday’s election results, life still goes on. Once you realize that, it makes it easier to go about your day.
I have long held the belief that our country functions despite the folks in Washington, not because of them. That is why we need to conduct national elections the easy way, like in Rabbit Hash, Kentucky. Their Mayor-Elect is a French Bulldog named Wilbur. Wilbur defeated a field that included 13 dogs, a donkey, a rooster, a dead cat, and a human. Wilbur is the sort of candidate I could get behind. Or the cat.
We still must endure the sturm and drang of court battles, leading up to the already obvious conclusion. Joe Biden is the next President of the United States.
To be fair, in this age of instant communication, the thought of having to wait days before the official outcome of a major election is made known is beyond ludicrous. And disappointedly, COVID-19 was not immediately cured November 4th, defying a lot of predictions to the contrary.
Yet I contend my prediction for post-election America will prove to be true. Court battles aside, the sun will continue to rise, and we will wake up and go about our workaday lives. Hopefully, if we think good thoughts, we will even start to heal as a nation.
