I abhor the forfeiture of hard fought and won liberty

I abhor the forfeiture of hard fought and won liberty America - This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave. courtesy a local Indiana man, one named Elmer Davis - (1890-1958) was a journalist and broadcaster. He worked for the New York Times from 1914 to 1924. As nightly news analyst for CBS (1939-1941) he had an audience of 12.5 million viewers. Roosevelt appointed him head of the newly created Office of War Information (OWI) in 1941. Most likely long hours, maybe even days or weeks after most contentious election witnessed within the United States after voting machines satisfactorily deployed (meaning at long last contender identified) once winning candidates declared, EVMs again kept inside the strong room and the room locked and sealed, which again done in front of candidates or their representatives, plus signs taken as well. I don't wanna be stayin' alive come Tuesday, November 5, 2024 particularly if the presumed winner as forty seventh president none other than antithetical, despotical, egotistical, fanatical, heretical, impractical, lunatical... oafish hull windswept orange and yellow spray-on hair dyed, coiffed, and barb burred septuagenarian whose tidy quasi toupee looks like a foreign racoon migrated onto his head. Cuz the death knell of democracy willfully, woefully tolls all across the webbed wide world because Joseph Robinette Biden Junior, whose insistence to remain in the drawing drew droves of electorate to the polls, handing victory margin, whereby countless elephants trumpeted far and wide affecting a Republican landslide. Impossible mission to keep doors shuttered over subsequent pandemonium to hear donkeys braying, bobbing, and babbling doleful "hee-haw" sound, not because their tails pinned incorrectly, but rather courtesy yes screaming fans of Mötley Crüe, (that Doctor Feelgood could not cure) sparking seismic activity equivalent to a 9.9 magnitude (so take that Taylor Swift) deafening roar that rocks the crowded house ushering bono fide pandemonium: the name stems from Greek pan, meaning 'all' or 'every', and daimónion, a diminutive form meaning 'little spirit', 'little angel', or, as Christians interpreted it, 'little daemon', and later. The aftermath of a Biden loss (not just him - and his coterie being called "loser" the rest of life), but would be a field day among die hard Republicans, and even some renegade Democrats that would cause the Grateful Dead to become awake turncoats that would find lovely bones of Benedict Arnold rattling and humming with U2 courtesy hullabaloo quintessentially branding, hashtagging, vetting and rocketing nonestablishmentarians as political outcasts forcing an aging long haired pencil neck geek such as yours truly (me) forcing us (socially conscious voters) to forage as a foreigner alienated, ostracized, and penalized on another planet survival incumbent upon the outer limits of the twilight zone, where dark shadows morphed, jump/kickstarted, exaggerated into monstrous shapes along the edge of night, which spooky, haunting, ghastly, eerie place more appealing than then prospective tragic loss of freedoms such as life, liberty and pursuit of happiness, which we take for granted.