Boy, they took away your fois gras, and now this? As it happens, it's National Bittersweet Chocolate with Almonds Day, a particularly apt food to celebrate on a day when you think at least half this country is nuts. No doubt you've already started cycling through the five stages of grief, starting the first stage (denial) last night, when you were wistfully colorblind to the big map of the United States being slowly shaded in with the wrong Crayola.

Then, as filling in the map was interrupted by a satellite feed of your guy delivering his concession speech, you gave in. You had resisted the chocolates until that point; after that, you had no choice. Food as a coping mechanism: It works for Cookie Monster, it will work for you. And that's how five bars of dark chocolate were devoured by midnight. At least it will make you smarter.

In the light of the day, you're probably nursing a slight stomachache. Is it from the chocolate or are you psychosomatic? Does it matter? You're now probably denying the impact that United States presidents have on your day-to-day life. After all, all politics is local. (Pass the bittersweet chocolate.) For dinner, maybe something heavy to match the weight in your heart. Pick a gastropub, any gastropub; you just need fried Brussels sprouts with thick squares of bacon to get the juices of nostalgia flowing so you can forget the last 24 hours. Remember the Clinton years? Of course you do; everyone does, and fondly. Pass the bittersweet chocolate.

While you're thinking of the past, also contemplate the future. Maybe now is the time to think about moving. After all, America died last night. Sweden sounds like a nice place with good food (Fäviken! And Noma just a hop away).

But then again, no, you hate moving, and so does your dog. Instead, sit tight and check your calendar. The apocalypse is still scheduled for the end of the year, so it may not be four more years as just six more weeks. Time to start stockpiling those buckets of macaroni. And, of course, the bittersweet chocolate.

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