From: A Student Reader at UMass Amherst [Email him]

I have always tended towards a more pessimistic manner of thinking, with my reasoning being that it’s better to be pleasantly surprised than hugely disappointed. Thus on election day, sitting at my computer as the results came in, I found myself hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised (to put it lightly). I have high hopes for Donald Trump’s presidency and the opportunity it offers for patriotic immigration reform. That being said, what I’ve found most gratifying is listening to the psychotic squealing and melodramatic blubbering of lefty media shills and your average moonbat alike. It has been music to my ears, and I plan on sitting back and indulging in the spectacle for as long as it lasts.

Meanwhile, in my own mental wanderings, I began to contemplate how Trump’s victory was able to reduce so many supposedly rational, intelligent beings, to incoherent lunatics. In my frequent dealing with leftists since Trump secured the Republican nomination, not once did I encounter an individual willing to discuss the candidate, let alone the prospect of his presidency, other than in jest.

Trump was merely an amusing caricature of a backwards, declining segment of America, worthy only of contempt and ridicule. I doubt your average liberal once discussed the possibility of a Trump victory with his or her peers, a confidant, or even their spouse. It is possible some did not even entertain the idea, not even for a fleeting moment, in the deepest, darkest corners of their fragile little minds. And in the course of an evening, their entire reality came crashing down.

Personally, I would never regard the result of any event in human affairs as a foregone conclusion. But for many liberals no doubt, Hillary Clinton’s election was as assured as sunrise the next morning. That is not to suggest the impossibility that one day we might wake to find the sun absent.

Such an event, however, would suddenly and inexplicably invalidate our preconceived notion of the universe. And no matter how we might be able to rationalize such an occurrence in theory, it would undoubtedly have a profound and deleterious effect on the human psyche.

This cosmic comparison to the psychological plight of liberals reminded me of the Asimov short story, Nightfall. The setting is a planet in a stellar system containing six suns, which keep the world illuminated continuously.

However, rapidly approaching is a total solar eclipse, which will bring about the first night in several thousand years. A group of scientists, predicting this phenomenon and fearful of the consequences it might have for civilization, scramble to warn the public, or at the very least record the nightfall for posterity. One such scientist attempts to impress upon a reporter the magnitude of the event about to transpire, and the unlikelihood that individuals will be able to respond to it rationally:

"Imagine darkness – everywhere. No light, as far as you can see. The houses, the trees, the fields, the earth, the sky – black! And stars thrown in, for all I know – whatever they are. Can you conceive it?" 

"Yes, I can," declared Theremon truculently. 

And Sheerin slammed his fist down upon the table in sudden passion. "You lie! You can't conceive that. Your brain wasn't built for the conception any more than it was built for the conception of infinity or of eternity. You can only talk about it. A fraction of the reality upsets you, and when the real thing comes, your brain is going to be presented with the phenomenon outside its limits of comprehension. You will go mad, completely and permanently! There is no question of it!" [Full Text]

You might think it an exaggeration to compare such a cosmic disturbance to that which shattered the liberal world Wednesday morning. Perhaps in regards to the magnitude of the event itself, the first nightfall in two-thousand years might be a bit more momentous than the election of Donald Trump. But I would argue that the reactions in the case of each event (both the real and the fictitious) are rather similar.

In the depths of the darkness, as the last scientist descends into insanity, the mad ones rush into the streets to burn anything for light:

“On the horizon outside the window, in the direction of Saro City, a crimson grow began glowing, strengthening in the brightness, that was not the glow of the sun.”

And so, if you are like me, thoroughly enjoying catatonic SJWs, militant feminists pulling out their hair, and pathetic girly-men weeping, take a moment to contemplate how some of these people might actually be going insane. It makes it so much more enjoyable to watch.