All of the stop signs in the neighborhood have been ripped
down and are now being used in a very dangerous sort of Frisbee fighting. I fully expect a fleet of ambulances to be
here within the hour. Every other porch
is occupied by men that could easily hold the most stunning Charlie Daniels
look-a-like contest ever seen if they wanted to. None of them wave either. They just glare at me as I make my way down
the street, passing their fixed stare at me to one another like a baton in a “what
the hell is Nancy-boy doin’ here” relay.
It’s creepy. They pick me out of
quite a few people now celebrating in the streets. Speaking of, I’m amazed that so many David
Duke For President t-shirts still exist.
It will be a miracle if they aren’t ruined by blood and vomit stains
tonight though.
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