Here’s what the election comes down to, says The New Yorker in a current piece labeled as humor:
To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”
Now I really want Obama to lose, so his followers will choke to death on their own hatred, intolerance, and bigotry.