That lovely Tuesday night, November 4th, began with Yours Truly shooting some football out at the BigU, a nationally-televised throwdown.
That they won.
At one point went up to the student seating sections and wended between shouting spirited co-eds, making images of their various headgear and mouths in enthusiastic agape condition.
Tim Russert's sister did the cointoss and there was a vid of his son, Luke, saying hi to the nice folks in the stadium.
Yours Truly recalls that when things went dark for Russert there was much discussion that he had pushed himself to the max in preparation for the presidential election.
Little Geo Stephanopoulos has claimed, or more fully claimed, the mantle of the country's leading popstar of punditry.
A femme of red party status said of George that she'd like to prop him up like a teddy bear in the middle of her bed.
Geo reminds YT of a puppet from her childhood's distant past.
Is it Harvey the dentist of Rudolph fame. This will require more subconscious delving.
Which brings me and You to the next matter at hand: the presidential election.
The one that began, truly, in February, and that stumbled and glaciered along until last Tuesday with the glorious results.
Two favoured images from the evening - a couple gleefully dance on Allen Street after hearing the results, and the screen and history writ large in the lobby of Ellicott Square Building downtown.
Where all good Dems go to say a gracious thanks to their voters, and volunteers go to tipple, and publicans go to feel part of big history.
Big, historical, pixel-rich Love.