In observance of the election

[Humming]

I can't help but think of this poem.

"Ozymandias"
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
1792-1822

[The Light]

Here's some darkly humorous stuff...

"Ladies and gentlemen, I came here tonight with the intention of giving a concession speech, the contours of which you might have already in your own minds anticipated: the graciousness, the upbeat look towards the future, the thanks for all of those who put in the good work.

Well, as I rode here today in my stately limo, with such a concession speech in hand, I came to the realization that telling the truth is more important than adhering to formula. So I threw that speech out the window. Let me speak from the heart.

I f&#$*ing hate losing. Ladies and gentlemen, to come so close to the most powerful, sweet gig in the world, and to then be denied it, is the worst misfortune that has ever befallen me. And it f*$*#ing sucks. You see a man before you, apparently healthy, no visible signs of damage to his person, no tears pouring from his eyes (yet). But let me assure you, my fellow Americans, that the anguish that I am currently feeling is of the most acute variety. It sucks, hard. Everyone in this room feels bad for me, I can tell; but I want you to imagine all those bad feelings of everyone in this room compunded into one horrible feeling, and then make that several orders of magnitude worse. That is how I feel.

Along with that pain of losing, I feel an unspeakable rage and loathing for my opponent, so obviously my inferior in all respects. This intensifies the bitterness within me, already at a fever-pitch. And what this rage entails is a desire to murder my opponent. As you know I am a rational person; but as rational as a person may be, nothing rational can quite curb the blood-thirsty desire for revenge I feel welling up within me. (Funny, I never thought I would ever feel "blood thirsty", and, funny as well, I also at this point have a literal thirst for blood!)

So my next action after concluding this speech will be to leave this building, ask my driver to whisk me away to a secret location, where I will devise strategems for the physical annihilation of my opponent. I will be doing this alone. I want to look into his eyes as I slide the dagger between his ribs. It will happen when he least expects it. Which is to say probably when he's asleep. He won't be expecting it then.

After having commited this act, I will then kill myself. Now ladies and gentlemen: though I feel you have let me down dreadfully, not having put in that extra hour in handing out leaflets, the extra minute of phone calls, the one last plea for a donation to the cause, still I ask you one last favor: [tears begin to pour from his eyes, not merely drip]

If I fail in the commission of these acts, I ask you to slay me. If I for some reason and not unsurprisingly show cowardice at some point by not attempting to do what I have promised to do, then please either in the form of a torch-bearing mob or the lone derangement of an oily-haired assassin with a small caliber pistol, ensure my demise. Please do not heed any calls for mercy I might give then; ignore them as a mere unconscious survival mechanism; do me in.

[He finsihes the speech. He dabs his eyes with his sleeve. He flashes a smile that many in the room take to be a mocking one, and then, with a violence that is, though only in restropect, comic, he extends his arms straight out and shows the room his middle fingers. He swivels about 30 degrees in either direction, back and forth, making sure everyone in the room "gets a piece". He backs out of the room with this same gesture, leaving his supporters to murmur uncertainties, each looking alternately at one neighbor and then the other.]