For Brutus Is An Honourable Man

Right off the bat, I want you to know I'm playing hurt here. Well, not "hurt" like injured, but compromised by a combination of a chest cold and all the exciting, attendant over-the-counter medication I can fit into my body just short of liver-death. None of it is actually working that well, so I assume I'm in the grip of some superbug mutated out of the dangerous overprescription of antibiotics in our population. By this time next week I expect my mind and body will be a hollowed-out host vehicle for a sentient, coordinated system of megabacteria artificial intelligence, joy-riding around in three-dimensional space once they figure out how to operate my legs. If you're worried about not being able to tell if I'm me or the public face of a self-aware bacterial collective, just note what it is I'm drawn to. I imagine if I'm a bacteria-man, it'll be obvious when I'm doing things bacteria like to do most, like for instance, lying at the bottom of a poorly sealed tupperware container of tuna noodle casserole accidentally left in a car trunk on a summer day.

I wouldn't say I'm as far gone as to be a parasite's automaton, but I am slightly zombied out. I haven't been sick in probably two years, which sounds a little bit like a humblebrag, but it's tough to be that socially and emotionally subtle in between violent coughing spasms and the resulting rainbow spray of mucus. So long as the rainbow only ranges from green to yellow.

This is my way of saying this week's entry may be a little shorter than usual. I haven't been that tied in to the political cycle except to note that Nate Silver has finally unveiled his 2016 national presidential race forecast. Right now it has Trump with only a 20% chance of winning. And remember that this is the statistical prediction model that has called 49 and 50 states correctly in the last two presidential elections. Remember also, it's the thing we all used to calm us down during the "all the polls are rigged in favor of Democrats" dark days of the 2012 campaign, where enough droning repetition of the same bullshit talking points made us start to doubt the numbers ourselves. Fivethirtyeight was always there to level us off, like an internet hit of Xanax. Best when taken with actual Xanax.

But Mr. Silver does note that there's a lot left we need to get through before we really know what this race looks like. Things we still have to process past include:

1. Trump naming a running mate, probably just by starting with whoever has the most twitter followers and working downward until one says yes. Note that Bieber is still technically Canadian, so don't panic. Or better yet, WHY AREN'T YOU ALREADY PANICKING?

2. The Republic National Convention, which at this point looks like it will be just Trump speaking nonstop on his own for four days.

3. Hillary naming a running mate, most likely a Democrat who won't outshine the candidate in terms of physical charisma. Sadly the only person on that list is Bernie Sanders.

4. The Democratic National Convention, brought to you by your local Medicinal Herb Dispensary Collective and your benevolent friends at Merrill Lynch.

5. SOMETHING SOMETHING BENGHAZI!!!

6. Trump inauguration (one of five)

What I'm doing here clearly is trying to guard against any sense of inevitability or overconfidence, purely on my part. Because I know of course that my minute-to-minute emotional state can have a strong impact on the outcome overall.

It helps to disengage slightly when and where you can. Being sick helps. Also you can keep yourself distracted by reading the endless and endlessly soapy details of the current British constitutional crisis brought on by the successful Brexit vote. Seriously, it's Game of Thrones if instead of tits and dragons, it focused on quiet strategy talks over sherry at one's country house and a politely tittering jumbled mumble of passive-aggressive insults and lateral moves. Honestly, it does read like a particularly shitty political thriller novel where the writer researched all the things that could happen in a given political system and then writes a completely implausible story around making sure all of them do. Except it's real. And the characters are way, way better.

I'm going to read more about it right now, lying on my back in my bed, drowning in my own sputum. Hope your Independence Day weekend goes better than that.