I wrote Tuesday afternoon that the pro-Hillary corridors of Facebook and Twitter rang with cheer and confidence—but that, also, maybe, Democrats’ social media triumphalism concealed some anxiety. Yeah. Remember the “cheer and confidence” part of that equation?
Trump just won Florida. We are all haunted heartsick wretches.
Blue Facebook and Twitter have collectively become a mausoleum where the phantoms of our morning hopes drift like braids of ash. No more “You go, girl!” Now it’s:
And on and on to infinity.
We can’t joke about this. We can’t comfort one another with baby animal palate cleansers when Donald Trump slouches so close to the White House. What was an improbable nightmare has shuddered into a real possibility—and we didn’t see it coming.
These are some things that describe my social media feeds: an unremitting wall of despair. A cataract of oh god no. The Vale of Shadows. The ninth circle of hell. The verbal manifestation of someone curled in the fetal position mumbling to herself the horror, the horror. And threaded through it all, a plaintive wail: How?
