January 20th, America woke up with a hangover of 
			biblical proportions. 
Which is to be expected after
		a four year bender of 
					science denial
			and general cruelty.
Now, after chugging a Monster-sized 
	      drink of reality, 
       we're looking at the mayhem
       we sowed in our orgy 
			of drunken debauchery and thinking, 
			"Oh God, I didn't really do all that, did I?"
"Yeah, you did," our friends and neighbors 
				tell us. "All that 
					and more." 
		Ugh, we know we're not 
				a fun drunk 
		but we never thought 
				we were a mean one. 
	Maybe we aren't. What if we're just the kind 
	who does whatever the fuck we want without 
		considering the consequences?
But now, the fun's over and it's time 
         to start adulting again:
        gathering up all the empties 
        and tracking down where we left our car 
        and figuring out just who we offended 
                    in our drunken revelry 
        (we're not sure but we may have wanted to hang Mike)
		because we need some idea of where to start 
				making amends.
It goes without saying we're never going
		to do this again. We know we were
	incredibly lucky and dodged 
			a major bullet this time. 
But it also goes without saying that we're 
			kind of lazy and no one's sure 
				not even us
		if we're really willing to put in 
			the necessary work to keep it from 
                               happening again.
It doesn't help that we're not great 
    at keeping our more destructive impulses at bay. 
	A quick look at our past history 
			tells us that. We try 
				so hard
			to do the right thing
		but always manage 
			to fuck it up somehow. 
	Not this time, we tell ourselves. This time, 
		we're going to stick to our guns 
			even though we know
				we have 
			the attention span 
                       of a coked-up hamster.
I mean, we'll try. Oh god, how we'll try. But, like every other drunk
	who's had a close call, we'll forget how
		bad we felt the morning after 
	        the last time and we'll keep 
		     bellying up to the bar
		     until our near misses
		stop missing and we wake up to 
	       swastikas and St. Andrew's crosses 
		              every fucking where.

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