from the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library here in the wild of Connecticut.

This is obscure season two Frankenstein I am your host your ear lover your

prince of pretension your Georgianologist and literary mans's planer in chief, Michael Ian Black, excited as always to join you and today brings with it a special anticipation because I record this the day before

election day 2020 and as we speak about the horror it is certainly pertinent to describe the last four

years of our American experiment.

How do we describe them?

Like this.

It's fucking fucked up.

I mean, clearly like I'm a writer, so I have a way with words. But that little piece of eloquence

right there, I think, is almost me showing off at how good I am at description. Just like

fucking fucked up that's where we are that's where we have been.

And it is interesting to contemplate experimentation,

American or scientific,

as we consider young Victor Frankenstein and his journey, dark journey from Paradise,

from Paradise into ruin. Is the nation on a similar path?

Hard to say.

As I peer into my prognosticators ball,

I have no idea what the election holds.

As you are listening to this, if you're listening to it

when it is posted, you will have a much better idea

of what is happening. The outlook right now is cloudy and perhaps a bit grim, not

necessarily because the results will be bad, although that's certainly a possibility, but because we don't know yet

...