Inescapable cataclysm! Total destruction! Nowhere to hide! Make peace with your God!


Prepare yourselves, sayeth the news. This thing is coming and you can’t stop it. You’ve seen the numbers. Banks of supercomputers refining to the eighth significant figure the precise moment of impact; the location down to a half mile. The giant Obamaroid bearing down on us: unstoppable by mere puny earthlings; a rock the size of Ireland, immutable, inevitable, crushing and final. Run all you want; you’ll just die tired. This is it. The end of all we hold dear.

And what advice do we hear from political-science advisers, our best and brightest stalwarts rallied to stave off this disaster? What say these wise men in white coats, men that spend decades in labs, dissecting every trend and poll, crunching numbers and assaying intentions to the milligram? What help might we look to them for?

Ah! Some instructions! Something at last, some hope to cling to! Let me just check the official printout here…

On the morning of impact, grab the sturdiest chair you can find. Move it away from all doors and windows. A basement is your best bet, if you have one. Place the chair in any doorway underneath a load-bearing beam — a steel I-beam is ideal. Sit down and place your feet about two feet apart, firmly pressing down on the floor. Open your mouth slightly to relieve the overpressure from the impact, and the instant you see the flash of light, close you eyes immediately, lean forward as far as you can, put your hands over your ears and kiss your ass goodbye.

You know, I love cheap sci-fi. And one of my favorite lines from an absolutely terrific little cheap sci-fi film is this: History is made at night. Character is what you are in the dark.

This attitude of despair is being trumpeted from the Left for the sensible and understandable reason that if they lose this election — with all the advantages they have at this precise point in time — then they can never win. Not ever. And the media is pulling with their teeth now, because if Obama loses they will have destroyed their credibility — for nothing.

That’s all fine with me. I know what they and the press sayeth. Sayeth I:

  If we are mark’d to lose, we are enow
  To do our party loss; and if to live,
  The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
  God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
  Let he which hath no stomach to this fight,
  Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
  And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
  We would not vote in that man’s company
  That fears his fellowship to vote with us.
  This day is call’d the eve of Elect-ian.
  He that votes this day, and comes safe home,
  Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
  And rouse him at the name of Republican
  He that shall live this day, and see old age,
  Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
  And say ‘To-morrow is the fourth of November’
  Then will he strip his sleeve and show his hands,
  And say ‘With these I moved yon levers on election day.’
  Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
  But he’ll remember, with advantages,
  What votes he did cast that day.  

  We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
  For he to-day that shares his vote with me
  Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
  This day shall gentle his condition;
  And gentlemen and lady pundits now-a-bed
  Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
  And hold their book deals cheap whilst any speaks
  That voted with us upon election day.

The original is a speech promising glory in the face of overwhelming defeat. King Henry V went on to win perhaps the most miraculous victory in the history of mankind.


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