My texts and private messages have blown up. It might be a while before I get through the backlog. And the rock cried out, no hiding place.

I wish #Biden hadn't stepped down. I believe, and will continue to believe, that he could have won—**if** #Democrats had rallied around him after the debate fiasco, instead of being so eager to throw him off the sleigh in the desperate hope of distracting the wolves. But we don't do that, do we? Fucking ever. The circular firing squad is always ready. Democrats fall in love, and then they fall out of it, while #Republicans fall in line.

Well. This is where we are now. As the prophecy foretold. The prophet was Octavia Butler, BTW. Seriously, go read *Parable of the Talents* again and tell me you don't see it.

The nominee has to has to has to be Vice President #Harris. She's our best chance of national survival. I will not be taking questions at this time.

If I were a Party official, I'd seriously try to plant someone in the audience to yell "Give 'em hell, Harris!" at an opportune moment during her next speech. So, of course, she could come back with "I don't give them hell. I tell the truth and they think it's hell!" But probably no one will do that. Lack of showmanship is almost as much a Democratic flaw as lack of party discipline.

Yeah, I'm scared. If you're not, you're not paying attention.

Take some time. Absorb the impact. Process the fear and anger and grief. Do what you have to do, for as long as you need.

Please come back when you can. We have roughly three and a half months to figure out how to save our country. Anyone who seriously decides to get out, and can make it happen—I don't blame you. Most of us don't have that option.

Good afternoon, and good luck.