Up until a few months ago, I didn't think that Sad Grandpa Walnuts was entirely terrifying. His embarrassing and increasingly distasteful campaign aside, I still don't think that he's the worst of the bunch. So the thought of a decisive victory is tantalizing not for bragging rights, but for how a result including a bit of the south or a touch of the Rockies could say that it's not just the coastal elites and our pals in the Great Lakes finally getting our way after so many dispiriting, soul crushing, and embarrassing years.
Though I wish I had been able to, I don't know that I ever fully caught the stadium-sweep of pure infectious inspiration (blame a deep-seated preference for the pragmatic losers like Dean and Clinton). Out of fear of setting ourselves up for another awful disappointment, it is difficult to even consider the possibility of something seeming like a country agreeing to try a humane, competent, and fairminded course, but nevertheless, a peek at that out of the corner of one darting eye looks pretty good and maybe a little bit possible.
Possible enough, that is, to plan to get to the Showbox early. Just in case.