Because of the way deadlines, and publications, and distribution, and weekly newspapers work, I am writing to you from the past. No, I haven’t yet been able to secure a time machine. Or at least not one that can take me further back than three days ago.
Aside: If I could get me a time machine, I’d go back in time to that day in 1988 when I whiffed on the chance to ask Laura Bailey to prom. My goodness, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Instead, I plopped myself right in the friend zone and… oh, sorry.. Column from the past. Gotcha.
Anyway, how is the future? Anything big happen Tuesday night? I’m writing this on Monday morning and from where I’m sitting, Tuesday might be a complete poop basket with polls closer than me sitting next to you on a Southwest Airlines flight. (Middle row, obviously.)
I get a real sense that I’m Leslie Nielsen from the movie Airplane! when before the final scene, he pokes his head into the cockpit and says “I just want to wish you all good luck. We’re all counting on you.” Then proceeds to do that three or four more times throughout the landing. I do. I just want to wish you all good luck on Tuesday. We’re all counting on you.
But you’re reading this Wednesday or Thursday or, if you’re really slow, Friday. And you know what I don’t. Whether Election Day was a seamless masterpiece of Democratic effectiveness. Or, yanno, what we all expect it to be. A boulder sized turd rolling down the hill of democracy.
Will Mister Orange call shenanigans and grind the wheels of power to a halt? Or worse, will there be violence? These poor election workers. I can’t even think about how some semi-retiree working in a counting station will be threatened by Billy Bob and Cooter when they’re just trying to make their $10 an hour counting all your votes.
But maybe, somehow, there will be a landslide one way or the other. I mean, all we really have to go on is polling. And polling is done from dummies who answer UNKNOWN calls on their cell phones. Those are the real criminals here. Who would do such a thing? Why do you need to answer the phone unless it’s your significant other and they’ve been in a chimney fire? Terrible.
One thing seems certain, Election Day will stretch past Tuesday night. One benefit I guess we have here in the Northland is that we’re pretty set in our ways. And most of our races are pretty well known going in. The only real 50/50 I’ve seen is whether we can do sports betting and my opinion on this is very clear. I hope that jazz is turned on by Sunday.
Either way, enjoy the future. Do they have flying cars yet? Did Elon finally make a robot that will empty the dishwasher instead of make a truck that looks like a toaster had sex with an Amazon box? Do the Royals really win the 2025 World Series? These are all questions I have and you, dear reader, will forever be four days ahead of me in time.
Godspeed. Be safe. Bet the under. (Find me Laura’s number, please. I’d like to call her.)
(Get more from Chris Kamler on what we like to call Twitter, where you find him, interestingly enough, as @ChrisKamler)
