The Usurpers

And now for something completely wrong.

Come January 20, two of the last three Presidents will have taken power without the consent of the governed.

This is a problem.

As we write Friday evening, three nights after the election, Hillary Clinton leads Donald Trump by about 400,000 votes of 120 million cast. Because of an artifact of history, these numbers are legally meaningless. And, until 2000, for six generations — 112 years — they might as well have been. For six generations, for more than a century, the Electoral College was a ceremonial formality that, for practical purposes, merely codified the popular vote.

Until it wasn’t.

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America, 1776-2016

Not all experiments succeed.

Exit Left to Funway

What has been seen cannot be unseen.

Unless something goes horribly, horribly wrong — What? Here? — Hillary’s gonna win tonight by a hundred electoral votes. If that’s news to you, well, blame the news, which as usual is fixated on reporting every score except the one that matters.

And after tonight, we’ll never hear about Donald Trump or this election ag— hahaha haha HAHAHAHAHAHA…

Er, sorry. What we meant to say was, We’ll never hear the end of it.

So while we’re searching for a hemorrhoid cushion in preparation for the endless Congressional investigations to come, you’re invited to squat on our election Open Thread/PTSD Support Group. Tonight’s drinking game is whoever wins, drink until you forget.

Pestorking Penguins!

We were planning this long Serious Post about voter suppression and election undermining, stemming from the FBI revelations and trawling Our Exceptional Nation’s long history of resisting the franchise for anyone but White male landowners, how one era’s gains can easily become another era’s setbacks, how that sustained and strong resistance shows how valuable a single vote remains, because there’s so much power and treasure to be gained from it. It was going to be an undeniably compelling piece of writing, sure to go viral as the country suddenly lurched to its senses before election day, and guaranteeing us a parade even bigger than the Broncos.

And then somebody mentioned “penguin sex” in passing on Twitter and we decided life’s too short.

Four More Years

The House is now in session.

Making our peace with Hillary Clinton last spring was like making our peace with watered-down Obamacare seven years ago: The legislation was poorly conceived and managed, it was neutered to appease an opposition that never intended to vote for it, but compared to the alternative, it was all we had. The Damn Bill Passed. Maybe they could fix it in Post.

And now that the initial version is beginning to self-destruct as predicted, we’re starting to hear happy chatter that Hillary may reintroduce our only protection — well, besides universal Medicare — against insurance-company mergers, pullouts and price hikes: the Public Option.

Fat chance.

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Jack Chick, 1924-2016

Upon Jack’s arrival, St. Peter looked up from a collection of Chick Tracts and asked “What the hell is this shit?”

R.I.P. Jack Chick, comics scaremonger [A.V. Club]

The Day After

Well played, doughboys.

We’re more than happy to join the national pearl-clutching over Donald Trump’s remarks that he won’t necessarily concede the election if he loses.

But we also happen to think that it won’t make the slightest difference.

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