I was going to headline this post “The End of Thinking,” not because we have ceased to think, but because soon we will not longer have to preface every comment with “I think…”
As I write this, we’re down to 58 hours to election day, bless God and may He have mercy upon us. As we approach the event horizon of the black hole, our velocity approaches the limits of perception–asymptotic to the speed of light–and time stretches to infinite. Everything, from our perspective, begins to accelerate around us as time slows, and to everyone else, we appear to freeze in place.
And then, poof, we’re inside, like a Christopher Nolan movie, trapped in a tesseract, or Möbius loop, or victims of Anterograde amnesia. But history will march on from the point at which we disappear from the pre-election universe to the post-election creation, having consigned everything behind us to the Langoliers.
We will finally know if Schrödinger’s cat is alive or dead. I have already cast my vote, like most here at The Resurgent, for Evan McMullin, shaking my fist at Destiny while refusing to accept the grim future. And I’ve asked myself the question: If Trump be the cat alive in the box with Clinton’s box left to quantum possibilities in a different universe, what should we do?
It turns out that National Review’s revered Jonah Goldberg, whom I secretly idolize and simultaneously envy like Jets fans watching Tom Brady play football, agrees with me.
I will say, however, that if Trump wins, even his most ardent Never Trump opponents — me included — must restart the clock and give him some benefit of the doubt. We only have one president at a time.
In this universe, anyway, yes, we must accept fate, or move to Canada (or Spain, or Mexico).
Behind the scenes, Trump’s Republican backers insist that they will be able to manage and steer Trump toward positive ends. “He just wants to make speeches about making America great again,” they say. “We’ll do all the heavy-lifting on policy.” I am profoundly dubious of this. The idea that one could hand the keys of the Oval Office to this glandular oaf and expect it to not go to his head strikes me as ridiculous. Character is destiny, and given his character we can predict what the destiny of the Trump presidency would be.
But we all owe it to the country to give him his shot. I will be delighted to be proven wrong. But given that I actually believe the things I believe in, I don’t have high hopes.
I agree with this completely, or should I say that Goldberg agrees with me, as I’ve been writing how a Trump presidency would be the migraine of all time (or as Goldberg calls it, “an ass ache”) for 16 months.
Without attempting to extol the virtues* of a potential Trump presidency, mostly because it hurts when I try, The Donald brings some heavy firepower to the race, and could be formidable if he figures out how to deploy them properly.
Whether Trump figured it out or not, he has managed to get here, to the edge of the black hole of history, close enough to smell the victory. In less time than it takes for Hillary’s staff to compose a tweet storm, we will know.
Then we will not have to think anymore. Of course, unless there’s an electoral deadlock, or claims of massive rigging, or more hanging chads. Then our only hope to achieve the end of thinking will be the near-term arrival of SMOD. And may God hurry the apocalypse.