Well, here we go.
In 2016 I was smart enough to isolate myself for the majority of November 9th. Remember – I’m well ahead of US time, so the election of that year wasn’t called into long into the day, when Hillary Clinton admitted defeat and called the winner to congratulate him. And like most people, I have my thoughts on that whole deal – nothing so goofy as “the Russians did it!” or “If Comey had only stayed out of it in October.” More along the lines of “the Dems got so cocky they blew it.” Biden (the natural successor) stepped aside and they torpedoed Bernie with their super-delegates all in the name of crowning the first woman president. Then something happened. And I haven’t forgiven them since.
But of course, I digress.
So I remember the exact time I was told Trump won the presidency. I was driving home from Costco on the afternoon of the 9th and my pastor called me.
“Crazy, huh?”
“What?”
“Clinton called Trump and congratulated him on his victory.”
“You know you go to hell for lying pastor.”
It’s memories like this that make me cherish my quirks. The ability to dump Facebook and Twitter. Not voting for Republicans or Democrats for president. And staying away from the news and enjoying myself until the election is well over.
Good times…
