Yesterday, the American electorate behaved like a teenaged girl.
But it wasn’t just any teenage girl. It was not the teenage girl with the fantasy poster of [insert name X from Frank Sinatra to Elvis, to the Beatles, to Bobbie Sherman and David Cassidy to George Michael to Justin Bieber] the Collective Crush, weeping inconsolably when [name X] gets married. It was not the teenage girl who dresses up in the latest gear and sneaks out to meet her friends at the mall. It was not the teenage girl who studies and practices obsessively, focused on winning first flute during the next band “challenge.” It wasn’t the love-struck teenage girl running away with her “bad boy” boyfriend for a weekend of statutory rape. No: It was the teenage girl who goes into the bathroom and ritually cuts herself. (And as in the metaphor, it’s a lot worse and more widespread than you ever imagined.)