Last night was perfect for a spot of magic. The moon was on the wane, Hallowe’en is near so the spirits were abroad, and it wasn’t too cold. (Besides, I have a new bottle of Bailey’s). So near midnight I took my crystal ball, my black wax candle and Steve (my pet owl) and slipped over to the graveyard. I put Steve on a tombstone, lit the candle, took a swig of liqueur and rubbed the crystal ball until it began to glow. Then I passed my hands over it three times, peered into its iridescent depths and… SHAZAM!!… a picture emerged.
It was Wednesday morning, November 3. All the major races were decided except for two that were going to recounts (PA and AK)… both nail-biter Dem wins being challenged by Republicans. The Dems had retained the house narrowly and already held 52 Senate seats.
“Oh, CRAP,” I muttered to Steve, who blinked owlishly. “That’s my worst-case scenario!”
But it is what is is. The ball never lies. (Okay, sometimes it exaggerates a little.) So I returned to its depths and saw the pundits coming forward one by one to pick through the tattered shreds of their reputations. They lined up, each prepared to offer an explanation for why they’d all gotten everything so dreadfully wrong.
Charlie Cook cleared his throat and began. “What I failed to consider was…”
At that moment a siren howled, shattering the eerie silence, and a police car swept into view. Hastily I gathered up my bird, my ball and my booze, and skedaddled. (They get so testy when they catch me scrying in the cemetery.)
So, what did I miss due to my abrupt departure? If, bizarre as it seems right now, my crystal ball turns out to have been depressingly accurate, how will the pundits explain their failure? I wonder, if they’ve all gotten this election wrong, what their excuses will be. Cell phones? Tea Party animus? Polling fatigue? Unforeseen last minute Dem surge? A wimpy public’s distaste for guys who stomp on little girls’ heads?
Help me out here, folks. I’d go back to the graveyard but it’s going to be too chilly tonight. Even witches like to put on their snugglies and curl up by the fire on frosty nights.