Of course our time in Hell hasn’t ended. The one certain result is that we’re enduring something eternal. Whatever we did to deserve bickering over tallying is rotten enough to be punished for far past our human conception of time. I blame politics, naturally. Governments that can’t count are surely careful with your money. I’m calling your mom but not Pennsylvania.

I’d feel sorry for anyone who woke up expecting to know who won the presidency if degenerate insomniacs weren’t also left waiting to discover what nobody really wants to learn. We all want an answer to the most reluctant question. Nobody’s opened the box on Schrödinger’s vote. Even if there’s not certainty, it’s safe to guess radiation will pour out.

Those conniving thieves entrusted with the supreme civic duty of handing out “I voted” stickers must be trying to steal the election if they stopped counting at three in the freaking morning. Why didn’t they hire sleepless darkness dwellers to count votes until the Tim Hortons dining room opens?

Seize the chance to come up small. The incumbent setting himself up to moan about being cheated is the first time he’s ever plotted ahead. Naturally, it’s not for anything other than his benefit. Donald Trump risibly claiming he already won is so in character that Aaron Sorkin would’ve called the dialogue too predictable.

Bracing to find out which regrettable option commandeered the Electoral College’s chancellorship is like waiting at the doctor’s office: we want it to be over but not by hearing the diagnosis. There’s pain on the horizon that can only be forestalled for so long. But at least we’ll know what brand of suffering is in store, unlike the inscrutable question of why either is good. With options narrowed down to wrestling Godzilla or drinking lava, not knowing who won is a temporary win.

I’m only speculating without information because I’m trying to keep up. Our nation’s hobby is the natural byproduct of an election that provokes irritability. Guessing who prevailed during a game that’s not televised might get me a cable news gig.

Why not focus on why each potential outcome will bring pain? That’ll help cope with uncertainty. Votes are split between two prominent gentlemen who have each been astoundingly unproductive through their respective preening careers. Joe Biden is the prototypical useless federal employee, which makes it wholly unsurprising he’s trying to fake his way to the biggest job. As for his similar enemy, everyone should’ve picked up on Trump’s bluster distracting from utter lack of accomplishment by now. But if those unnervingly impressed by the color gold didn’t see there’s nobody strong behind the curtain by the time the casino-closer ruined the USFL, it’s not happening after nearly a full term.

These are the two best humans America has to offer. Why do you deny logic? A lack of answers means just a bit longer to ponder how black holes of negativity were the final celestial objects. Take these extra few moments before fate sucks us in to not let politics reflect who we are. Americans are supposed to thrive without the government’s help, as this election confirms before we even know the final score.

Tribes are offended by being compared to present political factions. Venom gets more poisonous as the differences become more slight. Just know you’re supposed to despise anyone with a different logo tattoo. Sports fans are reasonable by comparison.

Each will end America, so what’s the point? The formality of which bad Teutonic era whose descent we’re copying is the only technicality left. Partisans bicker whether America is becoming East Germany or the previous undivided naughty version. No matter whose will triumphs, the letter S appearing consecutively will now be stacked.

In reality, we’ll just bust in the more traditional manner, namely by going broke. The final two both think Social Security is a good investment, which shows how this is the worst choice. Entitlements will continue to bankrupt an allegedly free nation while one of two egomaniacs bravely cowers from ever turning them into an investment. Biden’s more honest about wasting what’s yours on your behalf, which isn’t quite a virtue.

Nothing’s ultimate about this fight. A slap battle between a lifetime and longtime Democrat has been even less thrilling than anticipated. Hitting after the bell doesn’t feel like fun bonus action. Nobody told Biden the bout started.

Free people shouldn’t be this upset about not knowing which buffoon gets a jersey from the handful of championship team members who bother showing up at the White House. We’re going to be stuck with a nasty geezer whose ambitions far outreach accomplishments as executive soon enough, so relax for a few days.

Uncertain moments provide time to focus on minimizing the president’s powers, especially the imaginary ones. Panicking about unilateral enactment of creepy promises gives the winner exactly what he craves. I’d say nominate a woman next time if it’ll get me Bumble matches.

Don’t nominate a horse’s ass next time. The simple yet tricky notion applies to both sides, win or lose. Bipartisanship brings us together. Having to write in someone to avoid casting a ballot for an atrocious human means nobody wins. Voters already chose between one who’s a bad president and one who would be. All that’s left is adding up golf strokes. Low score should win.

Proclaim victory to create inadvertent levity. Cultivating integrity would’ve been a good idea decades ago if an executive hopeful would like to convince the public he’s won today. That bigmouthed little man is going to end up with the least deserved title in recent memory. It works either way.

Cranky as a lifestyle choice.