Funeral for democracy

How, I ask myself at 4:00 a.m., did this come to pass? I tried. I voted. Only once. I made calls to Arizona and Nevada. "Hi, I'm Leslie. I'm a volunteer with Hillary for America. I understand you support Hillary, too."

"No, I don't," said more than one registered democrat on the end of the line.

"Thank you for your time," I would say, according to script, and feel a little worried. I realized I hadn't fully believed in the existence of Trump supporters. Not really. They existed on television, like the Muppets, and on Twitter, like trolls.

I should, obviously,  have been a lot worried. The Muppets and trolls voted in a man who has told us hundreds and hundreds of lies, who has no experience of electoral politics, who molests women for sport, who is racist as well as misogynist and whose fans include Putin and Kim Jong Il, as our commander in chief for four years. 

What a truly terrible feeling. I'm exhausted but don't want to go to sleep only to wake up and realise again that it is true. Can I stay awake for four years? Better yet, can I sleep through them instead? I shall be checking the requirements for Canadian citizenship. The time is unlikely to become riper. I heard that the Canadian Immigration website crashed this evening as the results took their sad and horrifying shape and Americans looked north for an escape route. Come on over, I say to them. Bring a coat.

For my kids, for my parents,  though, I must stay positive. There. Sit up straight. Bake some bread. The man's  going to be president, not king, not czar, not dictator. We are lucky to live under democracy, not because it's the best system of government, but because it's the least worse one.  (Least worst one?) The BBC's satirical radio show "The News Quiz" called this election 'the ongoing funeral for democracy in America.' Well it's not. Democracy is not dead. It lives. 

It's just wearing camouflage south of the border. 

And so to bed.