Tom Hicks | November 3, 2026
Dear Diary,
I have had the most exhausting day, and frankly, I am beginning to wonder whether the Democratic Party has completely lost its sense of proportion.
All I did was endorse a Republican for the United States Senate. One Republican. It’s not as though I endorsed the entire Republican Party, their children, their household pets, and whatever strange little creatures they’re keeping in the basement of the Heritage Foundation. I simply said I thought Mike Rogers should be elected, and suddenly people are behaving as though I drove a bulldozer through Democratic headquarters wearing a MAGA hat and dragging a life-size cardboard cutout of Donald Trump behind me.
Honestly, Diary, people can be so sensitive.
And before anyone starts lecturing me about loyalty, I would like to point out that this entire unpleasantness began when Abdul El-Sayed’s campaign informed me that I was no longer welcome at his campaign events. We were supposed to appear together at a church service on Sunday, and apparently he decided he would rather I stay away.
Well, excuse me.
I was raised to believe that when someone closes a door in your face, you find another door. Preferably one attached to a church containing the opposing party’s Senate candidate. That’s simply good manners.
So I went to church with Mike Rogers instead. There were pews, a sermon, and people who seemed genuinely pleased to see me. Nobody asked me to explain my previous statements about Donald Trump before passing the collection plate. Frankly, it was a lovely morning until everyone started making such an enormous fuss about the endorsement.
Apparently, some of my colleagues are particularly upset because I spent a considerable amount of time warning voters about Mike Rogers before deciding he was exactly the sort of person voters should elect. I don’t understand why this is confusing. People change their minds all the time. My husband once bought a different brand of mayonnaise, and while I found the experience deeply unsettling, I didn’t demand a divorce. I simply refused to speak to him for three days and quietly threw away every sandwich he made.
That’s called maturity.
Someone even had the nerve to point out that I was reportedly telling Democrats as recently as Saturday night that I wasn’t going to endorse Rogers.
Well, yes. That was Saturday.
I don’t understand why people insist on dragging yesterday into today. We have calendars for a reason. Saturday is over, Sunday arrived, and I made a fresh decision. If we’re going to start holding politicians accountable for things they said the previous evening, I honestly don’t know how anyone expects this government to function.
One particularly unpleasant person asked what had changed overnight.
I told him I had slept on it.
He wanted to know what I had been thinking about while I slept, which struck me as a rather invasive question. I certainly don’t ask him to account for his dreams. For all I know, he spends his nights riding a unicycle through a supermarket dressed as Abraham Lincoln, but I have the decency to keep my suspicions to myself.
And now there’s the business with my staff.
Nearly two-thirds of my remaining staff have resigned, including people who have worked with me for years. My chief of staff, my communications director, and several others apparently decided that endorsing one Republican was sufficient reason to abandon their careers.
I asked who was going to process all these resignations, but apparently the person responsible for personnel matters had resigned as well. This seems terribly inconsiderate. If you’re going to abandon your employer over a minor philosophical disagreement, the very least you can do is stay long enough to arrange your replacement.
One of them said she could no longer defend my decision. I explained that I wasn’t asking her to defend it. I merely expected her to explain it convincingly to reporters, reassure our supporters, calm down the party leadership, and somehow make the whole thing go away before lunch.
Honestly, nobody wants to work anymore.
Another staffer asked whether I understood how much work people had put into electing Democrats.
Of course I understand. I’ve attended fundraisers. I’ve eaten chicken in hotel ballrooms. I once spent forty-five minutes listening to a man explain agricultural subsidies while my dessert melted. Nobody can accuse me of being unfamiliar with sacrifice.
And now everyone is throwing around the word betrayal. Such an ugly word. You’d think I’d handed over military secrets or told the Republicans where we keep the good coffee.
For the record, Diary, I have never revealed the location of the good coffee. Although after today, I am seriously reconsidering whether these people deserve access to the creamer.
The worst part is that everyone keeps asking me why I did it.
I have explained my reasons repeatedly, but apparently they want reasons that make sense to them, which strikes me as a rather unreasonable demand. Since when did political decisions require the approval of the people affected by them? Imagine if voters started expecting politicians to consider their opinions before making decisions. We’d never get anything done. Congress would spend all its time answering questions instead of doing whatever it is Congress does between recesses.
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And apparently Abdul’s campaign raised millions of dollars after my announcement, which I find especially insulting. If people are going to throw money around because they’re angry with me, common courtesy suggests that I should receive at least a small percentage.
I did, after all, provide the entertainment.
Someone suggested I should have anticipated the reaction. Well, excuse me for believing that adults could disagree without behaving like children. I thought people would acknowledge my announcement, respect my independence, and quietly rearrange their political expectations around my personal decision.
Is that really so much to ask?
I even considered holding a press conference to clear everything up, but my communications director looked at me with an expression I usually associate with people who have just discovered a raccoon in their kitchen. She suggested we wait until everyone calmed down.
I asked how long that might take.
She said, “Possibly until you’re out of office.”
I reminded her that sarcasm is not an acceptable substitute for a communications strategy. She resigned shortly afterward, which I thought was a remarkably childish response to constructive criticism.
Anyway, Diary, I have decided that tomorrow I shall rise above all this unpleasantness. I will be gracious, dignified, and absolutely determined not to let other people’s feelings interfere with my commitment to doing whatever I have decided is right at any particular moment.
And if anyone asks me another question about something I said last month, I may simply explain that those remarks were made by an earlier version of myself and that I cannot reasonably be expected to answer for her behavior. Frankly, I barely know the woman.
Perhaps I should issue a statement distancing myself from her.
After all, people evolve. Some of us apparently evolve considerably faster than others.
Goodnight, Diary.
I do hope everyone has regained their senses by morning.
Honestly, I don’t know why people insist on making everything so political.
One Last Question
If you were writing the next page of this entirely fictional diary, what would happen when our narrator walked into her nearly empty office on Election Day?
Leave a comment. The imaginary diary may be closed, but the discussion doesn’t have to be.
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