Election Day – or as I like to call it, “The Day I Stop Seeing How Fucking Insane the Vast Majority of the Neighborhood Really Is (except for the house that’s had an idyllic "Welcome to our home!" sign with a heart around it on their porch paired with "Tumor/Pestilence 2020 FUCK YOUR FEELINGS" hanging in their opened garage for the last five years and the innumerable odes to Brandon, homemade or otherwise, that populate the landscape)” – has arrived and I make no predictions other than there will be some surprises and that the outcome will probably be worse than I hope (probably) but better than I fear (maybe) – though FWIW, there's more enthusiastic sane yard signage around here than insane (much more than I remember in past years; not dissimilar to Obama 2012 and far different than 2020 and 16) – though yard signage means fuckall on a ballot – and I do know of several Republicans out here that won't vote for Vance (and my father-in-law, a (Tumor)-publican, is voting for Nan Whaley for governor) hence the hope; the one house which had a ton of signage and "HONK FOR (TUMOR)" leading up the end of his driveway in 2020 has none – zilch, zero, nada; and Tim Ryan has run one hell of a campaign (against one of the worst candidates I've ever seen – and that's saying something in Ohio – especially as a democrat (small d - I'm a registered independent but vote for sanity every time)) – but that only matters if he wins.

(I mean, jesusfuckingchrist, Ohio.)