These last days remind me of nothing so much as the fourth quarter of an interminable football game. Both sides are unable to gain yardage. Down on the 20 yard line, both sides are rushing, making headway by the single yard ... back and forth over that 20 like a seismograph. The daring passes give brief flickers of hope to each side, getting batted out of receiver's hands. The debate will be the last opportunity for the losing side to make a "Hail Mary" play; not a winning strategy but merely a last-ditch attempt to maintain face.
Meanwhile, we sit back and wait, knowing in our hearts that the game is most likely to sweat, grunt and groan to a grudging win by running out the clock. No flights of eagles here, no heavenly trumpets with a hero[ine] achieving the Valhalla of the end-zone. A rough-and-tumble win, muddy and sweaty, followed by an end-zone brawl with nasty post-game recriminations.
And please, Lord, strike down the first person who says "mandate" ... my pet peeve of the previous four contests I've blogged through. The term is absolutely of no practical use. We have a whole lot of angry people to bring back to sanity.