My wife is watching the returns. I have headphones on with the music turned up loud. I have logged out of twitter. I am sipping whisky. I think I’ll work on my cell biology exam. I might occasionally glance up at the TV to flip the bird at Wolf Blitzer.
You cannot imagine how much I detest election night.
It’s everything I despise about media coverage of the election. It’s the horserace mentality writ minute — we’re going to examine every hoofbeat with a microscope, with airheaded babblers reading omens in every county as every percentage point dribbles in, and I fucking don’t care. Policies and consequences get shoved even further away from the news. Shut up, publish the final tallies tomorrow.
Do not mention the name Nate Silver to me. He’s the worst for putting pointless statistics high on the shrine of public regard.
The whisky will help me get through this.