Well, another presidential election is here. Again. It feels like only yesterday that we were waiting in line for hours to cast our ballots, slowly rocking in front of the TV while the Big Map turned bruised colors and stress-eating leftover Halloween chocolate like a dog intent on seeing God.
Don’t worry. Our Founding Fathers had a dream for our great nation. And if we could teleport them to this very moment, they’d look around and say, “Yep, this is exactly what we were going for.”
If John Hancock saw you frantically refreshing the New York Times Election Needle like a lab rat pulling a lever, he’d weep. With joy.
That’s democracy in action, baby.
Election Day is supposed to be the culmination of a beautiful, natural process that starts with George Washington sticking his head through your window and asking, “Can I count on YOU for four shillings?” every day for a year, in increasingly manic tones.
In his wildest fantasies, John Adams hoped that, someday, we would get free stickers and greet each other like our grandmothers are all having open-heart surgery.
Every four years, on the first Tuesday in November, Americans were meant to gather round and find out which small county in Arizona, Wisconsin, or Pennsylvania will haunt our waking nightmares for the next two weeks. James Madison would be so hard right now.
Part of the American Dream is your face spasming every time you hear the words “too close to call” or “recount.” Elbridge Gerry would eat this shit up.
Your terror is the hallmark of a functional state, and nausea is the most civic emotion.
Elections preserve the sacred voice of the people, and voting should feel like dropping a rock into a great, black pit while you pray to hear it hit bottom.
Election Day should feel like seasonal depression on Four Loko. Benjamin Franklin said that.
It’s normal to hunger for leadership. That’s why it’s our job to imprint like baby birds on some pleated-khakis-wearing white man who shows us charts. This was Thomas Jefferson’s idea.
You’re not a true American until you feel like you’re sharing a body with someone who licked an open electrical socket eight years ago and is thinking about doing it again. Benjamin Franklin also said that.
Elections are about trusting the public. When the Powdered Wig Gang decided to declare our independence from King George, they sighed wistfully and said, “Isn’t it cool how our descendants will never want a monarchy again and choose candidates who are qualified and will leave office peacefully and graciously after a normal amount of time?”
Election Day is a day for historic firsts. Or seconds. That might also be lasts.
Alexander Hamilton would have given his left nut for a breathless series of push notifications that tell you jack shit.
Okay, maybe the Founding Fathers didn’t know about smartphones. But if they did, they’d be very excited to see you googling “felon president how legal,” “bipartisan hot dish,” “is my body a crime yet,” and “what the fucking fuck is happening oh my fucking god.”
Every time you switch between scrolling through exit polls in swing states, footage of war crimes, and your work email, Betsy Ross adds a new star to the American flag.
Election Day is a day for national pride and worrying that your candidate is somehow polling behind the Menendez brothers. Benjamin Franklin said that after the syphilis kicked in.
Election Day is the appointed day for raising our voices, calling our therapists, and getting voicemails because our therapists are busy talking to their therapists, as originally ordained in the Articles of Confederation.
Do you feel that churning in the pit of your stomach? That’s the spirit of freedom, buddy. He’s holding a bolt gun to your head and asking you what’s the most you’ve ever lost on a coin flip. Samuel Adams never got to see No Country for Old Men, but he’d be super into this.
Chain-smoking may not be in the Bill of Rights, but it’s not not in the Bill of Rights. Ditto for gobbling Xanax. Or drinking Benadryl straight from the bottle. As Patrick Henry once said, “Give me liberty, or give me Benadryl.”
Election Day is all about consensus, rational discourse, and jumping every time you hear a loud noise. Francis Lightfoot Lee was twitchy as hell.
Do you feel like you’re in the back of a speeding car that no one is driving? Well, the Founders would say that you’re in the back of a speeding carriage. And that’s just fine.
In fact, democracy looks like marching in the street, chanting, “This is what democracy looks like!”—until you’re run over by a speeding carriage that is held liable in only some states. Button Gwinnett hated pedestrians.
John Jay said that if you don’t finish that entire jar of Nutella while sobbing by 10 p.m., then you’re no true patriot.
If he pulled you aside, William Williams would whisper that his parents really named him “William Williams.” Then he’d say to stop being nervous about electing the president because we’re protected by checks and balances. Doesn’t thinking about the Supreme Court make you feel better?
John Jay said there was no need to finish the Nutella that fast.
Tonight, as you sit on the couch with your loved ones staring at CNN in brittle silence, just remember what Thomas Jefferson said when he was plagiarizing John Locke: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness”—which we’re forced to defend on a rolling basis.
Election Day is all about trusting the process. It’s not like it’s failed us yet.
Oh, and John Jay said there was a second jar of Nutella in the fridge.