Thus it was written: if the squirrel in my crappy apartment complex side yard sees his shadow this afternoon, that means four more years of the Union remaining strong. If he doesn't, it means this entire nation will soon be plunged into one hundred years of blood lust, violence, and additional reality TV. I call him the Chaos Squirrel, and his decision is a strong bond forged in the Mines of Moria by a gigantic blood soaked panda named Panda Boo Boo. You cannot argue with his decision, of a shadow seeing, because he and Fate are the same thing.
But, unfortunately, I have to work today and will miss the Quad-Annual Chaos Squirrel Spotting, which means we're going to have to go into election night coverage as blind as the Blind Squirrel, who also lives in my side yard and once enraged the Chaos Squirrel, who promptly plucked out his tiny black squirrel eyes and feasted upon them right than and there without even wiping his mouth afterward.
So, all we here at Blogagaard can tell you is to go vote and then make sure you have plenty of flashlights, water, batteries, and booze on hand for the evening.
Especially the booze!