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One-Hundred-and-Sixty Toilet Rolls by Nigel Roth

A few days ago, the outcome of the 2020 US Election was decided.

Winning both the popular vote and the electoral college, Joseph Robinette Biden Jr became the forty-sixth President of the United States of America, or the forty-seventh if we count John Hancock who first held the title.

When the announcement was finally made and we all gave that palpable sigh of relief, even knowing that the tumultuous transition from rabid Republican monster to sense and sensibility will be as tortuous as the crazy incumbent can possibly make it, and despite our tears of joy, I think we all knew we were experiencing one of the strangest days in history.

However, we at least have the ability to cope with strange, after four years of dealing with fallacious rhetoric and bizarre decisions, and we have a process in place that will frame our response to this new madness, however long that takes.

But give a thought, if you will, to the ordinary people of Nuremberg, who awoke on April 14th, 1561, not to a simpleton regime clinging to ethereal notions of fraud like a barnacle to the Titanic, but to a supernatural battle, happening right above their heads, in the dawn sky.

While an angry orange face is now part of our everyday awareness and can be instantly dismissed as human-made, in the middle of the sixteenth century, a burning blood-red-orange sun-face, splitting into two and forming crescents of light, was far less understandable.