Election 2020: Politics as Porn
I’ve never voted in my life. I’m an anarchist. But the 2020 election drew me in like a hapless bird getting sucked into the engine of a jet aircraft. I never had a chance.
Set in the midst of a global pandemic, an apocalyptic economic collapse that rivaled the Great Depression, and massive civil unrest with violent protests in hundreds of cities across the country, it had all the elements of high drama.
Hours of conversations with friends, watching the news, reading newspapers and political blogs—it dominated my life. Would there be violence at the polls? Would angry mobs try to stop ballot counting by rioting or setting buildings ablaze?
I’d stare at my laptop, watching the latest videos from The Young Turks, CNN, and Fox. It was mesmerizing. A warm rush cascaded over me, a numbing, mid-grade euphoria, like sipping warm chamomile tea with honey, curled up in a comfortable recliner, covered in a blanket, next to a fireplace, watching my favorite movie, Heat. It’s a hopeless and depraved addiction, as vicious as crack or meth, and it’s got me by the plums. My work has nosedived, relationships crumbled, and I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since February.
As dire as it was, the news was wildly entertaining—the ultimate reality show. I remember the rabid anticipation I felt before the first debate. It was like the Super Bowl and World Series combined. I watched with my parents. My mom made artichoke dip. I fixed myself an Irish coffee and sat riveted in front of the TV, wondering what the over/under was on Joe Biden making it through without a catastrophic blunder? And what kind of mendacious gibberish would come from Donald Trump when he tried to defend his coronavirus failures? 
The campaign was a narcotic. It was porn. It was a Jenna Haze, interracial three-way, an Allie Sin, lesbian orgy, a cheap thrill and transcendent escape from the dreariness of life. The treachery, the outrage, it inflamed my soul, but with each masochistic dose I felt more alive. Afterwards I was hollowed out, beaten up, but desperate for the next fix, for the next nadir, and the cycle repeated.
When the media finally called the election for Biden, I thought I’d get some relief. But like a monster in a horror movie, the thing wouldn’t die.
A president refusing to concede, a majority of Republicans enabling him, over half of Republican voters believing the election was rigged. It was a bizarre spectacle, an outrage for the ages.
“They’re throwing acid in the face of Lady Liberty,” said one commentator, referring to Trump and the Republicans. But it was worse. They were gang raping and bukkakeing the poor gal by peddling baseless voter fraud claims and casting doubt on the integrity of the election.
Rudy Giuliani’s ridiculous press conferences were a search for Bigfoot, like watching Unsolved Mysteries or Arthur C. Clarke’s Mysterious World. I loved those shows. They had more evidence of paranormal phenomena than Trump’s lawyers ever had of voter fraud.
https://youtu.be/AY5qr0oyWOQ
Conservative radio, cheerleading for their boy, was all in on the “steal” narrative. Rush Limbaugh, battling terminal lung cancer, was spewing canards and rancor like blasts of napalm. So were radio hosts Michael Savage, Glenn Beck, and Bill something or other, “the great American,” as they took calls from self-righteous citizens, seething with anger, vowing to “fight for America.”
I’m as dumb as the next guy. But it’s easy to see there’s no evidence of widespread voter fraud, with right-wing judges (some Trump appointees) quashing his legal challenges like dixie cups.
But there’s no reasoning with some people. Facts don’t matter. In the funhouse-mirrored, social media dystopia that is our world, truth has been obliterated, crushed, stomped into dust. Reality is in the eye of the beholder now. Protestors were chanting “stop the count” in Pennsylvania and “count the votes” in Arizona. On YouTube, I watched “Stop the Steal” rallies, where “patriots” gave impassioned speeches about “saving the country” without any hint of irony.
This is the era of post-truth politics. Without any consequences, politicians can say whatever they want, whether it comports with reality or not. Trump falsely claimed there were “tremendous discrepancies” in the ballot counting, and that he won the election by “historic numbers.”
Biden will take the White House in January. The orange menace has been vanquished, but the damage to our democracy has been incalculable. Like crop circles, chemtrails, and UFOs, the phantom election controversy will rage on for the rest of our lives. The coup failed this time, but I shudder to think what will happen next time. God help us all. We’re doomed.
