IS THE ELECTION over yet? Can I emerge from my dark cave of foreboding to the bright light of day, or have my worst fears been realized? I don’t really have a cave, just a basement. And it’s not so bad, since it has two reassuring packs of toilet paper to get me through the unknown that lies ahead. There’s also a case of tuna, and several cans of beets procured, presumably, by a troubled family member who thinks sheltering in place means living with a red tongue and a sour disposition. Let’s be honest: In these perilous times, you may need tuna, but nobody needs beets. (Pretzels would be good. But we don’t have any of those.)
Speaking of safe places: I had planned to use this column as a smug refuge filled with sanctimony that I would fling at those on the losing side of an election that brought us to the precipice of authoritarianism. It was to be a preening and indulgent essay that we couldn’t publish before the election because nonprofits like ours are forbidden from partisanship. (I felt so sneaky! I’m such an outlaw!) Unfortunately, after a careful check of the printing schedule, it turns out this issue might arrive in mailboxes before Nov. 3. So, it’s a good thing I didn’t say which side brought us to the precipice of authoritarianism. Because when it comes to authoritarianism, there are very fine people on both sides. (Whew! That was close!)
I already voted by mail, a good choice in this year of COVID, but it dulled my display of pride for participating in the democratic process. I didn’t get an “I Voted” sticker. It’s difficult to walk the streets reeking of self-important patriotism without that sticker. That sticker would say to all and sundry that I’m a lover of democracy, a citizen steeped in integrity, a man of principle and action. And then I’d go back to my basement because democracy is getting scary out there. (“I Voted” stickers are not as obvious as the mark you get on Ash Wednesday. That “I’m deVoted” symbol is a more sober emblem, a powerful sign of devotion to an eternal faith, until somebody ruins the moment by pointing out you’ve got a smudge on your forehead.)
The results of this election probably won’t be announced on the night of Election Day, and Americans will be looking to the media to monitor and report in a responsible way, beginning with wrapping Wolf Blitzer in duct tape to prevent him from premature postulation. Locking him in a storage closet is another idea to consider, where he could join a similarly stifled Karl Rove, who has his own blabby history of calling it too soon.
Because you can’t rush the results of an election. There’s too much at stake. You can rush an unproven vaccine, of course, with no downside other than the risk that most of the human race will turn into zombie cannibals. That happened in a Will Smith movie, where a heralded cancer cure didn’t cure cancer, but definitely relieved the boredom of normal, non-zombie life. (Not that there’s anything wrong with zombie cannibals, other than the fact they don’t wear masks and refuse to social distance—it’s hard to eat someone’s brain from six feet away.) The movie is called I Am Legend, and the CDC definitely recommends you not watch it. Oh wait, now it’s saying you should.
Come to think of it, elections are kind of like vaccines. They can cure the cause of our affliction—such as, say, the U.S. Senate—when it suffers from inflammation caused by hubris, or cough due to hypocrisy. As yet, we haven’t reached herd immunity from such symptoms, so we’ll need an injection of some kind. I’m thinking ... majority rule?
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