Blood is in the water. We’re under the pile and bodies are still pouncing. Custer’s back to back with the flag-bearer. Pretty bleak. The White Knight suspends his campaign and rides in and gets caught in a traffic jam. He piles up debating points but the scorekeeper’s on the take. Now Miss Congeniality’s lipstick is fake. Jeez.
Ya know, I’m just crazy enough to think that something’s going to pop up to put The One off-stride. You get overly confident and you get sloppy. “Pride comes before the fall.” So I’m going to watch some baseball (Rays) and some football (USF Bulls and maybe the Bucs), ignore the Dow and ween myself from this 24/7 campaign vigil. I’m just not wired to watch the piling on. Besides, it’s ridiculous to be screaming at the TV all the time.
Meanwhile I’ll be praying for that cruel twist of fate, the untimely fumble, the step out of bounds, the misfire, the backfire, the snap over the punter’s head, and so on.
I’m not going to watch (famous last words) but I’m not giving up.