I have been following politics since kindergarten, which means I have spent the better part of four decades watching election results roll in while slowly developing the emotional resilience of a man who has been kicked in the testicles by the same horse every two years. I’ve witnessed promised landslides turn into narrow victories, narrow victories turn into devastating losses, and enough supposedly historic turning points to conclude that history has a particularly cruel sense of humor. I’ve watched blue waves become blue ripples, blue puddles, and occasionally nothing more than a damp spot on the electoral carpet. Somewhere along the way, I learned to approach Election Day with the optimism of a man buying a lottery ticket while fully expecting to be struck by lightning on the way home. Which is why I find myself sitting here this morning, November 4, 2026, experiencing an emotion I was not adequately prepared to handle. Joy. Actual, ridiculous, uncontrolled political joy. I keep checking election results like a suspicious lottery winner waiting for someone to explain that the ticket was printed upside down.
It started last night with Texas and Michigan. The early numbers were encouraging, but I’ve been watching elections long enough to know that early numbers are approximately as trustworthy as a used-car salesman wearing a sheriff’s badge. I allowed myself a little hope, but kept it carefully contained, the way one might handle a small explosive device. Then the first two Senate seats flipped. And something strange happened. I began to believe. Not the cautious belief of someone who thinks things might possibly work out if seventeen unrelated miracles occur simultaneously. Actual belief. The kind that makes you sit a little closer to the television and start doing electoral math without immediately subtracting twenty points for the inevitable disappointment. And then the victories kept coming. Another race. Another state. Another Republican realizing that the electorate had apparently developed opinions of its own. The House went blue. The Senate went blue. I had prepared myself emotionally for a small step in the right direction, and America had apparently decided to get a running start and jump over the fucking furniture.
And the individual victories! My God, the individual victories! Texas elected a Democratic governor. TEXAS! Gina Hinojosa defeated Greg Abbott in a state where Democrats have spent more than three decades wandering through the political wilderness, presumably surviving on cactus water and memories of Ann Richards. And James Talarico is going to the United States Senate! A Christian! A genuine, thoughtful, progressive Christian whose understanding of his religion seems to involve caring about other human beings rather than demanding that everyone else follow his interpretation of a book. As an atheist who has spent much of his adult life recovering from fundamentalist Christianity, I cannot adequately express how refreshing it is to see someone publicly embrace his faith without immediately attempting to weaponize it against his neighbors. Meanwhile, Michigan elected Abdul El-Sayed, a progressive Muslim who supports Medicare for All, to the Senate. An openly progressive Muslim and a progressive Christian, both heading to Washington. Somewhere, a conservative political consultant is staring at a whiteboard trying to figure out how the entire culture-war instruction manual suddenly caught fire.
And Susan Collins lost! Susan Collins, who has spent years perfecting the art of expressing deep concern while somehow remaining remarkably comfortable with the circumstances causing it, will no longer be expressing that concern from her Senate seat. I imagine she’s deeply concerned about this development. Perhaps even troubled. Possibly disappointed. I sincerely hope someone has checked whether she’s considering a strongly worded statement. And then there’s Little Mike Johnson, the Speaker of the House, whose days of treating the legislative branch like the executive branch’s personal coat-check service now have an expiration date. He’ll have a little time to pack. Maybe someone can find him some little boxes. As for Pete Hegseth, our remarkably theatrical Secretary of War, the election doesn’t magically remove him from office, but the prospect of congressional oversight must be considerably less entertaining than playing military strongman with an unlimited supply of taxpayer-funded letterhead. The idea that the people running these operations might soon have to answer questions from someone other than an enthusiastic supporter is almost enough to make me pour a celebratory cup of coffee into a champagne flute.
And I think that is where the real joy comes from. Because the past two years have been sickening to watch. Endless presidential proclamations, tariffs treated like magic economic spells, federal immigration agents shooting American citizens, and a seemingly bottomless collection of controversies involving the use of public power for private or political benefit. Watching those events unfold while congressional leadership repeatedly declined to provide meaningful resistance has been exhausting. There is something deeply unsettling about watching the institutions designed to restrain power behave as though their primary responsibility is to applaud it. I don’t expect everyone to share my interpretation of these past two years, but I suspect even my political opponents can appreciate the principle that a government should have to explain itself. Particularly when people have been killed, constitutional rights are being questioned, and enormous amounts of public money are involved. Congressional oversight shouldn’t be a special feature you unlock by electing the correct political party. It should come standard with the republic.
Now, before anyone gets too excited about my excitement, I haven’t suddenly become a Democrat. I haven’t developed a newfound faith in the political establishment, and I certainly don’t believe that electing a Democratic Congress will magically transform America into the country I think it has the potential to become. We still have enormous problems involving wealth inequality, corporate influence, healthcare, education, and a political system that frequently seems designed to protect the interests of everyone except the people living under it. A Democratic majority is not a universal healthcare system. A Senate victory doesn’t remove the influence of billionaires from politics. And a blue wave does not wash away every injustice committed before the tide came in. There will be compromises, disappointments, infighting, and undoubtedly moments when I find myself yelling at Democrats with exactly the same enthusiasm I’ve spent the past two years directing at Republicans. I have no intention of retiring from that particular hobby.
But for the first time in a long time, I can see a little genuine possibility where there has mostly been obstruction and resignation. The incoming Congress will have the ability to investigate, hold hearings, demand answers, and challenge an administration that has grown accustomed to operating with remarkably little congressional resistance. Whether it uses those powers effectively remains to be seen. Whether those investigations uncover criminal conduct, and whether anyone is ultimately prosecuted, will depend on evidence and the law. But at least the questions might finally be asked. Accountability is not the same thing as revenge, and I would much rather live in a country where government officials of either party understand that their decisions may eventually be examined in public, under oath, with consequences that extend beyond a disappointing appearance on Sunday morning television.
The absurdity of all this is not lost on me. I’m a determinist who doesn’t believe in free will, an atheist who just celebrated the election of a Christian, a leftist who is delighted that Democrats won, and a lifelong political observer who has spent decades cultivating realistic expectations only to discover that reality apparently neglected to consult them. I understand that one election cannot solve the problems of a nation. I understand that history is complicated, progress is uneven, and political victories have a remarkable talent for becoming political disappointments. I know all of that. I’ve known it for years. But I also know that sometimes something wonderful happens, and you don’t have to immediately dissect it, qualify it, or explain why it isn’t wonderful enough. Sometimes you can just enjoy the damn thing.
I went into yesterday hoping America might take a tiny step toward becoming the place I believe it can be. Instead, I watched it take a running leap. Where we land is still uncertain, and I have no illusions that the landing will be graceful. But for one glorious night, the electoral math kept getting better, the faces on television kept getting more confused, and a man who has watched politics since kindergarten found himself grinning like an idiot at a map of the United States.
I don’t know what happens next. But for once, I’m not spending the morning wondering how everything went wrong. I’m too busy enjoying the fact that something went right.