Forgive me for being the ant at the picnic.
Certainly, this is a glad moment, an ecstatic and delirious moment. The election of 2020 has ended at last. Joe Biden is finally the president-elect and Donald Trump is finally consigned to the dank well of ignominy he so richly deserves.
As Gerald Ford once said in the aftermath of a less dire threat, “Our long national nightmare is over.” As the Munchkins of Oz once sang, “Ding dong, the wicked witch is dead.”
But if gladness is mandated, caveats are required. America needed an emphatic rejection that left no doubt the chaos, lies, lawlessness, bigotry and ignorance Trump represented were not, as some of us are overly fond of claiming, “who we are as a people.” We needed to deliver him a thundering, emphatic rejection.
And we did not. To the contrary, a victory that should have been an overwhelming landslide had to be eked into existence. Indeed, even in defeat, Trump actually improved on his 2016 popular vote count by — at this writing — roughly 7 million.