It was about 6:45 last night when I realized he was going to win. I had my Twitter feed open -- got to check the New York Times feed, dontchaknow -- on my phone. I had the Washington Post's live feed open on my Fire. I had Facebook open on Pete's iPad. I had PBS on the TV. I had assumed that position as soon as I walked through the door from work.
And it was something I'd heard on NPR on my way home that hit me hard right at that moment: Republicans were following party lines. The fuckers were voting for him. And when the New York Times changed their projection to Trump having a 55% chance of winning, I knew.
I posted another less-than-pithy tweet. And then I posted a final tweet for the evening, saying I was going offline.
Off went Twitter.
Off went Wapo's live feed.
Off went Facebook.
Off went Patty for a walk with Youngest and the dog.
I don't know how long it took everyone else to come to that conclusion, but I spent the rest of the time until 10 p.m., when I went to bed, willing the media to call the damn thing and put people out of their misery.
I am in limbo right now. I know the outcome. But right now, before I've gone anywhere online except my little home right here, it is not reality. In this limbo, where I hang with Doctor Strange, something absolutely earth-shattering could have happened on the other side, and it could be a different world than I know it is. It doesn't have to be the 1933 Germany that got behind some charismatic wingnut whom they will follow to his bitter end. And, yes, I am comparing Americans in 2016 to the Germans in 1933. I am THAT person.
Limbo is really rather pleasant. You might want to come join me here for, I don't know, a couple of years at least.