Three days after Halloween, we still wear our masks, trying to scare off the coronavirus as we cast our votes for the next President of the United States.
Some are excited, others terrified, but most of us are a boozy cocktail of both.
The imminent onslaught of chaos that looms over the country is anxiety-inducing. For months, the election has hung in the imbalance of political theater as the coronavirus has creeped up on us like a beast in the tales of old, and we are exhausted from the mental gymnastics of trying to set our priorities straight between health and politics.
As the chronic spread of misinformation turns into a full-on plague, the pen cuts deeper than the sword, and the battleground runs red with the blood of our brothers, our sisters, our mothers, our daughters, our fathers, and our sons. It’s all bark and no bite until someone dies.
We have been ravaged at the hands of our leader, and it is time to bite the hand that feeds off of our hard-earned money. The poison can only fester within for so long before we are forced to spit it out and admit how toxic our nation has become.
Keep your gas masks ready; more bombs are coming to a screen near you.
Emy Deshotel 