Part of me sympathizes. I've been there, losing elections that made me sick to my stomach, shake with rage, all that. I, too, have feared for my country, felt as if it were slipping away. And I've nursed some powerful grudges against various politicians, the Clintons notable among them. I spent most of yesterday depressed that Hillary Clinton was going to be the next President. The damage to the country I foresaw, the gratuitous nastiness and corruption that was coming, left me numb.
And then I fired up my laptop about 10:00 and saw that things were not going quite as planned. And my depression lifted. Not that I'm a fan of Donald Trump, but to see Hillary finally sent packing was something that felt good and right and long overdue.
But back to the topic I started with: those who thought they were on the right side of history with Herself, who were looking forward to a victory that was snatched from them even as they sat down to feast on it. As I said, I sympathize somewhat. But when I read their anguished screeds, in which they not only blame everybody but their candidate -- especially in which they blame their neighbors on the other side, who voted for reasons as lofty or personal as their own, and call them bigots and racists and so on -- well, then my sympathy pales.
People get tired of the progressives' everlasting sneers and condescension, their vilification of others (even as they say their opponents' problem is their rejection of The Other), their unfounded moral superiority. Part of me sympathizes with anybody experiencing the pain of loss -- but part of me wants to say, Howzat feel, baby? Howl some more for me, I like it.
That's not very admirable of me, but I'd be more than human if I didn't feel it. What goes around, comes around. Karma's a -- well, you know.