I'm far from Seattle, but feel free to call me and we can drink and despair (or rejoice!) together*. I'll be huddled away in my office, using a glue gun on wedding centerpieces, drinking Amber Bock, screaming at states like Tennessee and Utah, and glowering at Mr. Whirled, whom, I think, has been coerced into voting for that Son-of-a-Bush. Wh-wh-what? Jesus.

*Come tomorrow or Thursday or Saturday, I feel you will be doing the latter of this while I will be doing the former, but for entirely different reasons. Wherefore is this Bambino fellow?