October 15, 2016: Hillary died in her sleep today. I wondered what people were thinking. Didn’t they realize you can’t depend on old-timers to stay alive? 

I was smoking a fat Cohiba when I heard the news. We were in a cigar basement downstairs from a little cigar store on West Broadway. A couple of the guys started arguing about the election. “How is Bernie going to to win after New York City?” I said. 

We were still getting news about the jihadists; 23 arrested, two just today. A total of 1,223 dead, more than 4,000 injured, three venues in Manhattan. A cavalcade of suicide vehicles exploded on Fifth Avenue in front of Trump Tower. A grenade launcher took out the sixth floor. Shades of 9/11. Suicide bombers ran into Grand Central station. Three more exploded tourists in Times Square. 

We were still talking about Hillary a couple hours later when we heard a rumbling and went outside to West Broadway. A great throng of Bernies was moving toward us from Prince Street. The crowd grew as we watched, swollen by new Bernies as it moved. An ad hoc Bernie rally. Someone carried a large effigy of Bernie’s hoary head before it. The chant of “Bernie, Bernie” grew louder. 

I saw something red and realized it was a red flag, the universal banner of revolution, unfurled by revolutionaries since the Middle Ages.