(Image: ‘Election Day Brawl,’ by Woody Guthrie, and found here.)

Overcast and cool this late-afternoon Tuesday here in California’s Central Valley. In this new back to the old standard time of darkness coming too quickly in the PM is depressing enough.

Finally, that day has come — Election Day 2024! And so far, with all the expectations and the word games the last six months, pretty low key as we await the results of this most-important, serious-ass election in my lifetime. Maybe Reagan’s 1980 win set the stage for our modern, nowadays Republican party (I have always thought Jimmy Carter was the last American president under our original historical motif, shit has been getting weirder and weirder since then), as the current version of the right-wing coalition (MAGA) has mutated into one foul, immoral, nasty and cruel strain when compared to the old Eisenhower crowd.
And most-likely makes today so humongously important — the horrid horror of the T-Rump and an unchecked, unbridled and way-unquaified second term as America’s leader. A nightmare if pondered for a few seconds — and if you half-ass follow the news and have a near-competent mind — would cause after those few seconds of pondering a loud, screeching scream to bubble forth from your skull.
A bad-movie-like surreal scenario.

Already this early (NYT live blog): ‘Polling places in at least four states were targeted by bomb threats on Tuesday, officials said, leading to evacuations and some disruptions in voting, although none of the threats were immediately found to be credible.‘
Supposedly, Russia-linked bullshit.

Scrolling news sites for election news right now is stressful and shitty.

So best to try and drop out for a while and wait.
Or return to summer and a ‘Kamala Curious‘ initial attraction:

Or give a spin to Stevie Nicks:

Or scroll Digby’s post of a highly-fretful day’s humor tweets linking to this:

Real-time of lives that are not real.

Or feast upon the words from my most-favorite poet, Miss Emily Dickinson — “My Reward for Being, was This“

My Reward for Being, was This.
My premium—My Bliss—
An Admiralty, less—
A Sceptre—penniless—
And Realms—just Dross—

When Thrones accost my Hands—
With “Me, Miss, Me”—
I’ll unroll Thee—
Dominions dowerless—beside this Grace—
Election—Vote—
The Ballots of Eternity, will show just that.

Note: ‘A lot of my personal musing is dedicated to one theme: Can I be more of an adult? E.g. Can I take care of my health better, clean the apartment, be more professional? Compared to that, Dickinson’s confidence is otherworldly. She is emphatically not disappointed by a lack of likes on Twitter.‘

Or swing with the most-obvious political/election tune per Neil Young:

Time to wait without going crazy. Later in the night and or maybe in the morning. Shit can’t be helped at this stage of in this crazy-ass, though, heartfelt play.
Overripe stress, or not, yet here we are once again…

(Illustration out front: ‘A Break in Reality,’ by Xetobyte, found here.)