It’s November 4th. It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine. My name is Yon Yonson.

I don’t know why Yon Yonson just came into my head. It’s been a long time since I read Slaughterhouse Five. Maybe it came into my head because Biden just won Wisconsin. He doesn’t work in a lumbermill there, although many of the people he meets as he walks down the street probably will ask him how the hell he got there.

Looks like we are about to face four years of conservatives wailing about how this country is broken. After all, we just endured four years of liberals wailing the same song, doing their best to break it even more. I’m conservative and a Christian as well, so I am disappointed. There is no chance that I will move to Canada. As I told my neighbor when he asked me in the hallway this evening, poop eating grin on his college professor liberal face…. God is in control. With that in mind, it really doesn’t matter who is sitting in the oval office. Life will go on as it always has.

Same as it ever was. Same as it EVER was. Same as it ever was.

I do have to remind myself that life needs to feel broken, needs that urge to get better, if I am going to be motivated to make it better. I could choose to give in, accept that it is broken, decide there is nothing I can do about it, surrender and send up the white flag in defeat, sit on the couch and get fat on peanut butter bologna sandwiches. That is not the way. I hope that America doesn’t get that way, never becomes complacent, always has that hope that never accept being broken.

Of course, with a Democrat in office, even if I am not willing to be broken, I probably had best learn to live broke. At least I will be healthy because, well, Biden has the solution to the COVID situation.

OK, time to quit writing. After all, my words are bent, not broken.

I raise a soda pop towards the east. May whoever sits there prosper. We, the people of America, need you to prosper.