Election Night Diary

Election night 2016 was spent on Fishers Peak Ranch, on the outskirts of Trinidad. Unlike most places I hang my hat, this rented home was equipped with high-definition satellite television, in addition to high-speed Internet. I had the remote beside my laptop, and my cell phone charging on the kitchen counter. I had considered going to Las Vegas, but lost interest in the trip when I realized I was excited about neither outcome: a longtime Bernie Sanders supporter, I believe Hillary Clinton rigged the nomination process in her favor, in collusion with the DNC leadership. Regardless of her long history of public service and experience, I couldn't trust her. Wikileaks emails revealed deep-seated corruption. I also refused to vote for Trump, believing him not only unqualified for the office, but a danger to our national security and uneasy sense of calm. I cast my vote in Vermont: knowing the Democratic nominee would sweep the state, I cast my vote for the Green Party candidate Jill Stein. Had I been casting my vote elsewhere, I would have likely acted differently. 

I had handed my ballot to my town clerk more than a month prior to election day. I was in Colorado, and I walked through downtown Trinidad. On my way back from the post office, I stopped in for a beer. The bar had recently opened-- like, the day before. The election results were on the screen: FoxNews was anticipating the closing of the polls within minutes. At the very top of the hour-- 7 PM on the east coast-- FoxNews announced the first of fifty states to be called. Vermont had predictably gone for Hillary Clinton. I raised my pint glass: the local IPA was amazing, too tasty. I drank my beer too fast and headed back to the house. 

There were phone calls, texts, emails. I turned on the tube and opened up my laptop. At 6:30pm Mountain Time, the Denver CBS affiliate cut in to the national feed for a local update. Electronic voting machines across the state shut down from 2:47-3:16pm, for reasons yet to be understood. State Dems were trying to file an injunction to allow for two additional hours of polling; without such an injunction, the polls would close on time. I flipped the channel. 

The talking heads on CBS were laughing about the difference between an "edge" and a "lead." I didn't understand what they were filling the time with, besides their own self-aggrandizing, idle banter. I flipped to ABC, luckily at a moment when that creep George Stephanopolous wasn't on screen. They were talking about how Paul Ryan is going to have to placate the next Congress, before calling Mississippi for Trump without citing any data. With one third of the votes counted, Trump's lead in Tennessee was 70-30. ABC's all-white panel was talking with all fourteen of their hands about Trump's last-days decision to ignore Wisconsin.

I flipped to NBC, and just before an ad about their election coverage being sponsored by Amazon Echo, I caught live coverage from as close to my hometown as any network would get-- Montgomery County, Pennsylvania-- and a blonde woman with a microphone explaining that the County Election Chair said they're going to be a while. NBC's national map, which floated like a holograph above the ice rink in Manhattan, colored Colorado yellow, as if the polls were about to close in less than nine minutes.

I moved on to the last segment of the Denver Fox affiliate, and caught the end of a fluff piece on a tree covered in free clothing for homeless people. These may need to be installed in many more communities in Trump's America, I thought. The Fox national feed returned. I noticed Shep Smith stutters on election night; it is probably whatever drugs they pump him full of and call it dinner. He leered and swayed before three-story-tall video screens, holding useless notes. He had a troubling snark in his voice. I moved on.

"Did we think it was going to be this close, John?" asked Gwen Ifil on CBS. John tilted his head and talked in a nasal voice: usually we've called a battleground state by now. CBS moves on to an all-standing panel led by Charlie Rose, and featuring Peggy Noonan, sandwiched by two men. Noonan told it like it was: "One of the problems Trump had the way he talked about those issues and his approaches... was limited, and seemed to be talking to the white working class," and not the Latino working class, the black working class, etc. The guy next to Peggy said this was part of a reaction to globalism, a reinvention of the Western world. Back to the first guy: people voted on personality, not issues. "There were issues, but he didn't do them well," Peggy clarified, as if to bring the question of Trump's qualifications to a close. CBS cuts to the most ominious commercial: "we're Wells Fargo, and we're renewing our commitment to you."

I move on. The Vermont Secretary of State's election-night website is legendarily reliable-- but it endlessly refreshed without providing any results. Back to NBC. The vote spread in NH was down to 200, and there were "jitters in Clinton headquarters." Not sure what to say, NBC cut to commercial. The Vermont results were back up: Republican Phil Scott held his lead over Sue Minter in the race for Governor. The NBC Denver affiliate was back, first from a strangely quiet room, the GOP watch party at a hotel somewhere on the Front Range, but it seemed like there was no one there. Still, the segment was entertaining because the sound tech hadn't properly checked the mic level, and blew out the sound volume on half of the televisions in Colorado. NBC National was back: New Hampshire's spread had grown to 1,700. Pennsylvania, Florida, New Hampshire, North Carolina, most of the map still too close to call. It was 9:30 PM on the east coast, and just past dinner time here in the high desert. NBC switched over to a confused man in a suit and beard (Chuck Todd) who couldn't work his magic screen to properly dissect Florida counties; he gave up and cited the number 537, like some sort of Charles Dickens ghost-of-election-past spectre. "The Clinton campaign has been projecting a lot of confidence" over the last 72 hours... "I don't want to say it was a hidden Trump vote..."

Missouri goes for Trump. The announcer's voice chills. Where am I? NBC. "We've underestimated rural America." Someone makes a joke about ordering breakfast. For better or for worse, suddenly we've cut to a shadowy Glen Beck, one-time major-network contributor, now media upstart, "We haven't listened to each other, and I know I've been at fault for this... we don't listen to each other, we don't trust each other... 34% of Americans trust any of our voices. That's because they view us as talking down to them." Beck's lashing out at the corporate media was a pleasant diversion, but was too much for the network to take. Beck looked like a deflated, not angry Lewis Black, and spoke as slowly as Fred Rogers. They cut back to their panel, where others tried to establish the idea of the Orphan Voter.

"The people are entering into a time beyond reason... they're not listening to reason."

Is this what you believe and why you believe it?

11 PM on the east coast, and with a chill, NBC called North Carolina for Trump. The Dow Futures started dropping-- 500, then 600, 700 by the time they cut away to two heads at a different desk. Evan Bye, Ted Strickand, other losers being branded as "retreads." The GOP was sweeping the night. The glass ceiling that loomed above the collected Clinton supporters was going to become a weighty symbol over at least the next four years. 

Cut to Andrea Mitchell in her red leather suit from Hillary Headquarters and beneath that ceiling, where the crowd behind her stood still and murmured to themselves in front of an empty stage. Mitchell didn't blink as she explained that Kate McGinty in Pennsylvania still had a chance, but she didn't have much other good news. Mitchell had no spirit in her voice, spoke in monotone, as if no one was listening. She could have passed for a much older woman, feeding twenty dollar bills into a Mr. Cashman slot machine at the Trump Plaza. 

In trying to escape Andrea Mitchell's gloom, I lost track of what network I was on. While a blue-suited white woman with a microphone talked about the ramifications of the loom(ed) indictment from Trump HQ, AOL flashed a news alert over my phone: Trump, according to AOL TimeWarner, was projected to win Florida. It became a matter of which networks were brave enough to call states for Trump, and not wait to see if Hillary pulled ahead anywhere. 

She wouldn't. Flip to CBS. In a low tone they were describing Trump's two-million-vote margin. Someone off camera said "wow" when they showed the Utah results: Trump got a 60% lead over Hillary, among the votes that had been counted to that point. Cut to Major Garrett: inside the Trump campaign, they're starting to count on Pennsylvania, Michigan, others. They're counting on things we're not, he was saying. Everyone, on all the networks, stood very still.

I flipped the channel: Trump was "never" in the lead of the CBS News poll, not once, not from the close of the convention until this night, explained the anchor, with some undefinable indignancy, as if waiting to be proven right. "This could go either way," says the old man, profoundly. "That's the headline right now."

Back to Montgomery County, where we're in a bar and an old man is leering at a younger woman wearing a mullet, who's trying to form a sentence about why she voted for Trump. They then cut to a a different table where they "brought in" some Hillary supporters. A man with a Trump sign walks  behind the camera. One of the alleged Hillary supporters is a young man with pudgy cheeks; he speaks, but not well, but speaks. One of the two women is  sheepish when the mic is put in front of her face: "I'm not from this country, I'm just here with them," she said, as she backed away. The third woman admits to not having voted at all, but said she supported Hillary all the same. Back to you in the studio, the anchor says, obviously aware of the disaster her simple segment became. 

Cut to Michael Bennett, Colorado Senator who won, quoting Ben Franklin in his acceptance speech: is this a republic, or a monarchy? "A republic-- if you can keep it," Franklin famously said. The network cut away. Had we kept the Republic tonight? Charlie Rose on CBS, a man who has sat at the tables of the Bilderberg summit: this is a statement about "a lack of trust in institutions." I thought about the pomp and circumstance of my doctoral graduation ceremony less than two months prior to this night. Charlie Rose turns to his still-standing panel: Clinton provided voters 'a confirmation that eltie culture was against them.' As this is happening, I poured my first Glenlivet, my first drink since that lone beer in the bar. The bottle was given to me as a graduation gift, from an absolutely beautiful and very smart woman. She is 2,000 miles away but right now I want to be by her side. I do not want us to be apart-- to be sleeping apart-- in Trump's America.

We will wake up alone. CBS is now noting that Hillary hasn't set foot in Wisconsin since April Second, as if that's something that is suddenly revealed to them. The looks on the faces of the CBS anchorpeople each held despair, trying to find something else to say about Wisconsin: somebody could have done the counting prior to this moment. 

Bob Schafer: this could come down to New Hampshire. Bob Schafer laughed at Gwen Ifil when she mentions Canadian Immigration Website going down; "I never liked you, Bob Schafer," Gwen says, as she looks him in the eye. The media would eat themselves by morning. The popular vote margin graphic stays the same. There is no more talk of the Dow Futures. Bob again: "this is a vote against Washington. That's what this is." Speechless, they cut to a break. We are all approaching midnight on the east coast.

I pour more Glenlivet. ABC: "I don't know if stranger things have happened."  Their correspondent in Times Square is jumping around on a lavish plastic set, built for Instagramming, sharing memories of this historic night, and interacting with the network and its Manhattan presence. But he explained that in Times Square no one's in the mood to be celebrating-- "you can't find a lot of Trump folks in this crowd"-- and that Times Square "has gone quiet, gone quiet," he keeps repeating. One could see the massive crowds standing still, and yes, quiet, there in the middle of one of hte biggest cities in the world. They stood in the eye of a hurricane, a blizzard of wealth, expecting to be rallying around the coronation of the longtime darling of the left, the once and true heir to the Obama legacy, the first woman President of the United States. Instead, they watched on Times Square's huge screens the populist revolution of Donald Trump, reality television star. 

Back to CBS: they're describing the "Howard Beale Coalition"-- the angry voter. I mute the television to watch Beale's final speech, titled on YouTube as "The Individual Is Over." I post the video to my Facebook page, captioning the video "tonight's winner."  

I lose track of the remote control. The phone rings. My Democratic friend, who's been pestering people going the polls in Pennsylvania all day, is talking in a low, sober tone. "We're done for, we're fucked," he keeps saying. I asked him if it was rural America that did it; he started ranting about pipelines and explosions. While he's talking, I notice a scrap of paper with a different friend's prediction: Hillary would take Florida, North Carolina, Ohio, for a final tally of 291-247. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. My Democratic friend is still going on about the Democrats' failure when the captain of the ship himself, John Podesta, appears on the screen. I insist on getting off the phone: Podesta, king of emails, made his now infamous 'thank-you-and-goodnight' speech as I was pouring more Glenlivet. Podesta is no Howard Beale, and neither was Hillary: the Clinton machine hasn't channeled the popular rage in quite some time. 

I call my friend back, and we talk until the networks were airing the gathering crowd in front of an empty podium, where the family and supporters of Donald Trump assembled. When Trump appeared, we ended our call, and I poured another drink, sat down on the couch, exhausted, terrified. The gloss of the network faded away, the news crawl on screen disappeared, and I truly listened to Trump's acceptance speech. Podesta's appearance earlier had been the slimiest of goodbyes, a snake slithering away in the night. Clinton would appear before cameras the next morning, but as the crowd dispersed beneath the glass ceiling, at first I thought 'why?' Suddenly something will become clear to us, surely. Or did Podesta, Hillary, et al not want to break up with the country in the middle of the night, but instead wait for day? Wolf Blitzer: "...as we wait for the President-elect..." and I yell into the phone, "FUCK CNN," unsure how I got onto the network. My friend agreed, though he knew  nothing of the circumstances on my end of the line. I let him go and sat down on the couch to watch President-elect Trump deliver his first address as such. 

The classification "America's forgotten men and women" includes all of us, it seemed-- or at least anyone who might be calling me at this hour. 3 AM on the east coast, or something close, when Trump's remarks ended. From this point on, even though none of us had been to bed yet, we were beginning to Make America Great Again. I do not know what CNN said or did after Trump left the stage-- I cannot imagine what they had to say, or if they, like so many, had even planned for this contingency. Somewhere Donna Brazile, DNC chair and CNN correspondent, was escorting herself out from beneath the glass ceiling. The world was to be a different place-- not when the sun came up and we all brushed our teeth and rubbed the sleep from our eyes-- but that moment, in the middle of the night on the east coast. 

Howard Beale's "The Individual Is Finished" speech, as cited by AmericanRhetoric.com:

Last night, I got up here and asked you people to stand up and fight for your heritage and you did and it was beautiful!

6 millions telegrams were received at the White House!

The Arab takeover of CCA has been stopped!

The people spoke!

The people won!

It was a radiant eruption of democracy.

But, I think that was it, fellas. That sort of thing is not likely to happen again, because at the bottom of all our terrified souls we know that democracy is a dying giant, a sick, sick dying, decaying political concept writhing in its final pain.

I don't mean that the United States is finished as a world power. The United States is the richest, the most powerful, the most advanced country in the world -- light years ahead of any other country.

And I don't mean the communists are going to take over the world, because the communists are deader than we are.

What is finished is the idea that this great country is dedicated to the freedom and flourishing of every individual in it.

It's the individual that's finished.

It's the single, solitary human being that's finished.

It's every single one of you out there that's finished.

Because this is no longer a nation of independent individuals. It's a nation of some two-hundred-odd million transistorized, deodorized, whiter-than-white, steel-belted bodies, totally unnecessary as human beings and as replaceable as piston rods.

Well, the time has come to say, "Is 'de-humanization' such a bad word?" 

Because good or bad, that's what is so.

The whole world is becoming humanoid -- creatures that look human, but aren't. The whole world, not just us. We're just the most advanced country, so we're getting there first.

The whole world's people are becoming mass-produced, programmed, numbered, insensate things.