This morning, did you happen to feel a sensation akin to waking up from a particularly unpleasant dream where you're being chased into a dark basement by zombies and axe-wielding [Jim-]crow-headed madmen yelling "Macaca! Macaca!", only to discover the basement door opens onto a thousand-foot-drop cliff face, and you're suddenly

falling falling FALLING

{thump} and then, you're just drooling absently on your pillow, three cats pawing at your face begging for breakfast. But at least the zombies are gone for the day. For the first time in years, I'm breathing a sigh of relief after Election Day.

UPDATE: Pinch me. Donald Rumsfeld is apparently resigning.

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