Friday Chats - Nightmare election edition + meditations + an election drinking game
Some final election thoughts and lots of memes from the US midterms! I am allowing a safe space to lib out before we hate the Democrats again.
Because the election is tomorrow, Friday Night Chats will be slightly different than usual. We will have a shorter FNC, and I have made an election drinking game AND I've printed some meditations so you don't lose your mind.
I can't say anything tomorrow because I don't trust myself not to be political. So I will chat tonight, then see you at 7pm tomorrow night here - I'll probably be drunk and crying. It's fine.
Because it's such a big edition you'll need to click through to read it all. Which means you'll have to sign in. DON'T GET AT ME ABOUT THIS! Did I invent AI? No I didn't. Blame Sam Altman. Blame Silicon Valley! I have to make you sign in - I don't want you to sign in any more than you want to sign in! I have to pay for all of these fake email addresses!
It's fine! It's fine! Here’s my Halloween costume - Sexy Karl Marx obviously.
Feel free to skip to the comments if you read this already in your email!
I'm not having an election night party. I am going to be glued to the TV having a panic attack. I am going to be reading updates that are pointless and don't actually do anything except increase my anxiety. I will be on the Aotearoa Liberation League’s live stream at about 8.30pm election night. Probably drunk.
(Speaking of Pointless Updates, Josh went to the National event at the Morrinsville MegaCow and asked Christopher Luxon an important question. He's written it up for the Spinoff liveblog and it's also on Bluesky).
The Spinoff
here's a clip from the media standup where someone (me) finally asks Luxon the important questions #nzpol
— Josh | writer, painter, tinkerer (@tworuru.com) 2026-11-06T01:02:11.524Z
But you might be having a party. So here are my party tips!
Suggested cocktails for the party you support:
- Green Party: Hard kombucha
- Labour: Bloody Mary
- National: Old milk
- ACT: Piss
- NZ First: Roundup
- Opportunity Party: Water from the hose
Side dishes matched to the party you support:
- Green Party: A spliff and a bag of vegan lollies
- Labour: Two cigs and a cocktail sausage
- National: Salmon but it's still alive and it's screaming
- ACT: Breast milk ordered from the internet and shared with the Young Act boys who hope it will help them make gains and get laid
- NZ First: Blended sausage meat because you lost your dentures
- Opportunity Party: The grilled corpse of Michael Laws.
Nightmare Election Drinking Game
Drink every time:
- Anyone mentions gangs
- David Seymour looks visibly intoxicated (CAUTION: this may itself cause intoxication as it's about 90 percent of the time. Please look at David Seymour responsibly.)
- A woefully inexperienced and underqualified politician calls another candidate woefully inexperienced and underqualified
- There's a huge pizza order but no sides at a party HQ
- A rich person talks about “the cost of living crisis”.
- Anyone mentions "overhang"
- Anyone tries to explain what MMP is
- John Campbell swears
- Someone says "It's too close to call"
- Someone mispronouncing Quilae
- Someone trying to avoid mispronouncing Quilae by calling her 'Q'
- Luxon says "Well, what I'd say to you is..." (EXTREME CAUTION: Only do this one with a low-alcohol drink and make sure you have a toilet handy.)
- There's a drunk journalist sighting
- Winston Peters says someone has "only been here five minutes"
- Anyone mentions taxes
- Anyone says "It's a tight race"
- There's a “surprise” Green electorate win
- Anyone says "Kingmaker"
- Chris Bishop cries
- Tamatha Paul sends out a shaka 🤙
- Nicola Willis grinds her teeth so loudly they’re picked up by the hot mic
- Paddy Gower becomes so visibly excited you start to question if he’s on the nose beers
- Chris Luxon does a double thumbs up
- “Seymour is a c*nt” jewellery/tee shirts makes it on screen
- Winston Peters is caught smoking a dart
- You see a coked-up Young National guy trying to hide from the camera
- You hear an ACT politician say something openly racist on air
- You hear an NZ First politician say something openly racist on air
If you've appreciated my political writing and coverage over the last three years, please consider a paid subscription or a koha, as this is my full-time job and every contribution counts. Koha are one-off but help me and my family more than I can say. Arohanui Emily
Mediations to get you through the election
As a special election treat I got Josh to read the meditations on video! I'm not sure how he feels about this but it's happened any we all have to live with it, including him. Here is the video. I hope this helps keep you calm on a complicated day.
And here are the meditations!
You have voted. You have voted with love and care and empathy. You have voted for your elders and future generations. You have voted for the whenua and the planet. You have voted for people you do not even know - because you recognise that love is a doing word. You fight for the rights of others because you know that none of us are free until all of us are free. You don't have much, but you have enough to share. And it's this value that you voted for. Your vote has been made. What will be will be. Your commitment to humanity remains unchanged.
You are a hippo. You have spent the last six months living in luxury as you take part in a research project by the Royal Veterinary College. They encourage you to run and each time you fly through the air the scientists are stunned. Some cry. Others hug. You have brought profound joy to them. In their paper they reveal their findings - that hippopotamuses can be airborne for up to 0.3 seconds at a time when moving fast. Rhinos and elephants cannot do this. You weigh 2,000 kilograms and you can fly. You’re a marvel. And your mere existence delights everybody. You can also eat people if they annoy you.
Pedro Pascal nudges you at the bar and immediately apologises profusely. He says ‘my gosh, I would trip over my own feet if I’ and suddenly he stops. He looks at you properly for the first time and you feel a shock of desire. Of recognition. Of lust. He smiles slowly, pushes a curl from his eyes, and leans back. ‘Wow’ he says. You smile and in a voice you don’t really recognise that sounds cool and calm and collected you say ‘wow, yourself’. He points to your glass and says ‘can I?’ but you shake your head. A deep melancholy washes over him, but you say ‘I can’t have another drink because we’re leaving’. He looks around confused. He sees your wedding ring and says ‘Oh, you’re married?’. You quickly pull the ring off and hurl it across the room ‘no, I’m not’ you say. Pedro Pascal looks confused again. You take his hand and lead him out of the bar. As you slip out the back door, you see Leonardo DiCaprio on the floor screaming while holding his eye. A bored 26 year-old model stands next to him holding your wedding ring up to the light. You feel Pedro Pascal’s hand on the small of your back, and your whole body throbs with longing. The cool night air does not satiate the heat between you.
You are watching television when suddenly a breaking news banner appears. Elon Musk had an Ayahuasca-induced epiphany and realised he’s a fucking dick. He has closed down Twitter, apologised for ever calling it X, and donated his billions to a global independent research coalition that says it can now act to end climate change. Musk has dug a hole, and he’s going to live in there, and he promises you’ll never hear about him again.
You are six-years-old. You have lived at the pound for two years now. The people who care for you are nice, but you miss having a family. You know you have so much to give. Each weekend, people walk by your cage. You are a staffy crossed with something else. Maybe a kelpie? Maybe a working dog breed? You have heard yourself be described as an 'SPCA Special' and a 'classic pound pup'. You don’t know what that means; you just know that if someone gives you a chance, you’ll do anything for them. You can chase a ball, sit on a knee, you’re toilet trained (you take pride in this), you almost never bark except when you have to let your family know the courier is here. Still, they pass by your cage with barely a glance. Then one day a little moon face pops in front of you - a big gap-toothed smile appears. You are instantly in love with the child. They talk to you “Hello friend! You’re cute!”. Your tail can’t stop wagging. Is this it? Is it time? The grown-up opens the gate, and you take your chance - you bound into the child’s lap, licking their face, wagging your tail. “I want this one!” the child squeals. And she squeezes you tight. You can scarcely believe it. You’re overwhelmed with love for this child already, and you will care for them for as long as you can. This feeling - it is indescribable. You’ve got a home. Finally.
You are a six-month-old baby. You do not understand object permanence. For a brief second, your mother disappears behind her hands, but before your soul can become filled with terror, she reappears. She says PEEK A BOO, and you cannot explain it, but this is the funniest thing that you have ever seen in your short life. Laughter erupts from you, and the noise you make is pure joy. This too makes you laugh harder. All you can feel is delight and warmth. Your mother holds you; she too is laughing. She presses her nose to yours, and you’ve never felt so safe and loved.
Channing Tatum is your boyfriend. He is reading a BuzzFeed listicle of ‘fun facts’. He yells out facts in a voice full of surprise and wonder. “Babe! Babe! Clams have feet!” He is wearing SpongeBob pyjama pants, and you can see the deep line where his lower abs and obliques meet. “HOLY SHIT!” he yells. He comes bounding over to you like a Labrador on speed. “Every c in the Pacific Ocean is pronounced differently!” He tries to count the Cs in Pacific Ocean but keeps getting confused. His perfect jawline clenches and unclenches. His beautiful face sits in its natural resting state of mild confusion. He gives up on trying to figure out how many cs are in 'Pacific Ocean'. He leans over you and says: “The world blows my mind every day! Like, wow you know?!” He kisses you on the forehead and says: “I’m gonna do a few laps in the pool and then let’s fuck, yeah? 20 minutes! Yeow!” You smile and return to reading your fairy porn book.
You are a koala in a tree, munching on eucalyptus leaves. Unlike your cousins, you are not ravaged by chlamydia. You fear nothing. You have no enemies. You live in a zoo. You have as many leaves as you want. You are never bothered. You listen to tourists whisper, in reverent voices, about how cute you are. “Yes”, you think to yourself. “I am the cutest animal in this zoo”. You spend 18-22 hours of your day sleeping.
You are at a car show with Vin Diesel. He is wearing a T-shirt he made himself that says: Vin Diesel Loves Cars. Every car he sees, he acts like it is the first car he has ever seen. He is so happy. So enthusiastic about his adoration of cars that you start to feel carried away by it all. You listen as he passionately talks about mufflers. He loves cars so deeply, so unashamedly; he appreciates them so much. He breathlessly tells you about the Hyundai Ioniq 6 without a hint of self-consciousness. It is the second model from Hyundai’s dedicated all-electric sub-brand. You do not care. But his eyes brim with tears as he tells you that the aerodynamic Ioniq 6 has a drag coefficient of just 0.21, parlaying its 77.4-kWh battery capacity into a range of nearly 600 km on a single charge. When you truly love something, all artifice melts away, and what is left is pure humanity. Vin Diesel loves cars. You love his love and the love we all have for that which brings us peace and comfort in trying and troubling times.
You are a giant Apolemia siphonophore. Most people don’t know about you, and that suits you just fine. At 55 metres long, you’re a monster. You make a Blue Whale look like a little bitch. You are only the second life form found to produce a red light (the scaleless dragonfish being the first) and you know there is a desperate desire to capture your light on film for the world to see. But they won’t be able to. On April 6, 2020, the Schmidt Ocean Institute discovered your brother in submarine canyons near Ningaloo Coast, they have no idea you’re double his size. Your kind is an ancient lineage dating back 640 million years. You have no job. No thoughts. You just are. Without even trying, everyone wants to know you.
Your name is Holly. You were born on Christmas Eve. You are an assistant to an antiques dealer who is the best in the business. You hope that serving her will mean one day you’ll have your own business. She is horrible to work with. On Christmas Eve, she calls you to say you must drop off a rare tea set to a celebrity client in a small town four hours' drive away. You agree but you’re very upset. You enter the address into your GPS, then put on a podcast. You arrive exhausted at a small wooden cabin. Cate Blanchett answers the door. She is holding a glass of red wine. “Come in”, she says to you. You ask about the tea set, but she seems uninterested in it. “You must be exhausted,” she says. You look around the cabin, which is beautiful but sparse. “You have no Christmas decorations,” you say. “Well, that’s because this is my sex cabin. I share it with Alexander Skarsgard,” she says. She bites her lip. You forget all about your dreams of being an antiques dealer. She holds up a sprig of mistletoe above your head. You lean into her kiss, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Alexander Skarsgard appear. His V is out of control.
You stride forward, side by side with your peers. You hear children shouting with conviction and joy; you see elderly folks ahead of you being supported as they march. You see people of all walks of life walking together. You feel the weight of knowing you must act, but it is not a burden - it is an honour to be able to rally in solidarity with those bravely trying to show us a better way. You know that a better world is possible. You believe it. You look down at your tamariki and know they are searching your face for signs that the earth they inherit will be a safe one. You know you will be in community with others forever, doing everything you can to make this happen for future generations. There will be justice. There will be peace. You feel the conscientious objectors, the resistors, the pacifists, the protesters and the protectors, the radicals and the rebels watching over you from times past. A hand holds yours. You reach out your hand to another. Free. Free. Free You call. The crowd calls back with powerful conviction - and you know that no matter what happens next, you are not alone. You are never alone.
You are a Greenland Shark. Also known as Somniosus microcephalus. Your species is older than America. You have cruised the icy depths slowly and carefully for 150 years. You will live at least another 200 years. Maybe even another 400 years. Your kind has seen cities rise and fall, borders change, countries form and die - you have seen so much war waged above the sea and so much kindness and gentleness in humanity’s hope for repair. You have seen humans in all of their beauty and folly and horror and arrogance. You have never attacked a human despite their attacks on you. You are time itself. You were here before them, and you will be here after them. You are made mostly of piss. At 150 years old, you have finally reached sexual maturity. You are down to fuck.
The voter turnout is the highest it has ever been. People queued for hours to vote. There was no complaining - just waves of gratitude spreading across the motu. In record numbers, Aotearoa voted. It is a landslide victory for the planet. Care, compassion, courage are written on every ballot. The world is surprised, opinion pieces are written in the thousands trying to explain how our little country chose so overwhelmingly to protect the Earth and each other. We smile at each other in the street; we know we are powerful - that we have more in common than what divides us. We will heal, together. Everything will be OK.
It’s your chance to give a koha again if you like my writing! I’m sorry to keep asking but we are in a cost of living crisis. Thanks Chris.
Friday Night Chats - Nightmare Election edition
Welcome to Friday Night Chats. This week has been rough. But the weekend will probably be rougher so...
I have to come up with a name for my events company (btw get a ticket to Date my Queer Mate please). And my friends are useless. So please help me come up with a name?
I am considering:
- Resist/Persist (I have these as tattoos)
- Revolting events
- Harbour Lights
- Safe Haven
- Tony Honk Productions
- Feral Events
Thoughts? Prayers?
Ok, obviously, the Democrats aren't going to do sh*t, and the system is still cooked, but I do think we should be able to lib out for like 12 hours. So I'm going to share some midterm memes that made me laugh.
With the caveat that we can't be complacent! But you can hope-scroll for a bit.
Also - I am fascinated by this:
From Links I Would G-chat You: A Kentucky man who received a religious exemption from using AI at work gave the following justification: “The process and work involved in thinking through situations, through my work, through my ethics, through the way I handle other people, is a key component in being able to develop myself as a moral person. And offloading that labour, regardless of whether it’s taxing or not, is undercutting my ability to be a moral actor.” - Religion News Service.
I mean?! Can I get an amen?!
What I'm reading:
Nothing of great interest I've got to say. I moved my pile of books from my bedside table because I kept knocking over my glass of water with my flailing nightmare limbs. And now because the books aren't 'right there' they don't exist to me.
Toby Manhire
RNZ | Te Reo Irirangi o Aotearoa
Melanie Nelson
Joel MacManus
What I'm watching:
I've been watching It Gets Worse, and it's so good. It's so funny. Kind of like a UK version of Adults? Amazing cameo by Andrew Scott in the first episode.
I have been watching Yaga for Hudson Williams, obviously. And I have to say, if it didn't have Hudson Williams in it, I wouldn't be watching it.
I’m watching season two of Fleabag again because my annoying heart is still irritatingly broken. Every time I watch it, it gives me a new message.
Anyway, let’s just say I’m consuming a lot of media about yearning. For example:
What I'm listening to:
My song for the week is election-inspired. Enjoy:
What are you reading? Watching? Listening to?
Have you voted? How are you feeling about the election? Are you as worried as I am? Are you just grateful it will be over soon? Because fundamentally, it shouldn't change how we show up for our community in the long run, but gosh, some harm reduction would be good. And all of this talk of Chlöe Swarbrick as finance minister is just getting me too excited...
Mostly, I’m just swinging between delusional optimism and crushing despair - so tomorrow I’ll probably have a nervous breakdown.
So, tell me everything you’re feeling, act like the journal factory exploded - and tomorrow from 7pm we can chat politics!
Arohanui, I'm not going to say we got this. Because I'm not entirely convinced we do got this. But anyway, we're here, I'm queer, and that's about the best we can do right now. Love Emily x
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