The prospect of enduring four or even eight years of President Hillary Clinton, possibly followed by President Chelsea Clinton, for the rest of my life, had filled me with an intense and enervating dread. As the night wore on, and Donald Trump secured the victory, I felt better—I had carefully listened to what he actually said and did, instead of what the round-heeled media claimed he said and did—but two days later, I'm still having trouble sleeping.

I think I may know the reason for this.

I was born during the Presidency of Harry S. Truman, a guy almost everybody now says was likeable and maybe even noble, but who was directly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of individuals, in Japan and Korea, and saddling us with the evil United Nations. I don't really remember any of that, personally.