Ireceived an email from the Hillary Clinton campaign recently that finally jolted me with a surge of excitement.
And it wasn’t an invite to Wednesday’s “Nasty Women Vote Dance Party” either – hosted by a group of protesters at Donald Trump’s South Street campaign office, where the sounds of Janet Jackson’s “Nasty” song spun – in a play off of Trump’s labeling of Clinton during last week’s debate.
The email provided notice of Clinton’s Election Night event due to take place at the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center in New York City on the evening of Nov. 8.
Time will come when we as a nation can begin to process all the negativity and anti-democracy rhetoric that reared its head this year. We can lament the glare of all the hoods and masks that have been yanked from the heads of everyone — from Rudy Giuliani, once fondly dubbed America’s mayor, to our own Ben Carson, a pioneering surgeon formerly celebrated by an African-American community that now questions his very IQ.
Or we can put our head’s under our pillows and pretend like none of this ever happened, that we didn’t get as close as we are to soiling a democracy that the rest of the world actually admires – a democracy that given a chance, a huge percentage of voters would just as soon turn from being the darlings of democratic aspirants everywhere to just another international monster in disguise.
Maybe the rest of the world will forget how so many Americans are willing to thumb their nose at a respected Constitution to push for a ban on Muslims, that a major political candidate encouraged violence at a campaign rally, that that same candidate on audio admitted to sexually assaulting women — while his followers just ignore it all, in pursuit of their vision to “Make America Great Again.”
Maybe we won’t be treated to a daily dose of stolen emails from WikiLeaks — some enlightening and others just mundane. And maybe our media can go back to being the Fourth Estate instead of a depository for the seedy exchange of sex charges between the campaigns.
We still have 11 days to stomach the campaign news, to hear the testy exchanges and mull over the nasty accusations.
But on Nov. 8, something will happen. A winner will be appointed, a loser will go home, and the ugliest presidential election season that ever was will be part of history. Here’s to Nov. 9.