Following the tragic loss of Texas senate seat to a Republican incumbent who has, at various points in his campaign, been rumored to be Bat Boy, the Zodiac Killer, one of the Blue Meanies, both of the Boston Stranglers, six “your mama” jokes come to life, pudgy Mothman, melting Elvis , fat Gozer, Canadian Ed Kemper, the front part of a centipede glued to an exercise ball, real-life Sleazy P. Martini, all three of Casper’s uncles, resurrected Slimer, a blobfish hit by lightning and turned into a man, humorless John Wayne Gacy, gravy Hitler, and then fat Gozer again, voters in both of the state’s real cities are left to wonder what went wrong.

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Texas democrats find themselves asking how a politically astute, charismatic, young challenger could lose to the man some are calling “As Thicc as Texas”, “The Hedge Fund of Boggy Creek”, “The Texas Coleslaw Massacre”, “The Frown that Dreaded Rubdowns”, “Gawker: Texas Stranger”, “Spouse of 1000 Corpses”, “Payola Tengo”, and “a piece of shit”.

The historically narrow margin of defeat has been determined to be the fault of North Texas resident Darby Marbles, who, despite enormous social pressure, inexplicably refrained from reminding two hundred thousand of his Facebook friends to do their civic duty and vote in Tuesday’s election.

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“They say a single status update doesn’t count for much, but, in this case, I guess it cost the state of Texas our hero,” a mournful Mr. Marbles wept into his egg foo young the morning after the election, “I knew I was forgetting something.  I love voting.  I love how it brings us together as a nation in an unspoken agreement to not steal the pens from the booths, but then the old, dementia guys go ahead and steal ’em anyway.  God bless their right to do so.  It just didn’t occur to me to brag about it online.”

Darby continued his tearful tirade as he tucked into his hot and sour soup, “You know, when I tacitly agreed to share every aspect of my life transparently and instantaneously with everyone I’ve ever met, thereby reducing the ontological impact of every experience to a memetic representation of the experience that approaches, but never coalesces into, living authentically, I never thought it would end civilization this soon.”

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He then covered his nose and mouth with a giant “I VOTED BUT I FORGOT TO UPDATE MY FACEBOOK AND NOW WE HAVE TED CRUZ STILL” sticker and asphyxiated right there in Chili’s.

Mr. Marbles’s negligence only confirmed the suspicions of his more socially conscious out-there-in-the-real-world, or, “otitrw” acquaintances.  “People like Darby are destroying our country,” Sheryl Strange said of her distant coworker amid the industrial cacophony of their boutique hedgehog furniture Etsy store, “He one time asked me if Instagram was Myspace for photographs.  What an old!  He should asphyxiate in a Chili’s.”

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Reached for comment, Darby’s two hundred thousand friends responded, “He should have told us to vote.  We would have voted.  We love any excuse to go to a church or elementary school gymnasium.”  Straightening the sheer fabric on their queen-size canopy bed, the two hundred thousand friends continued, “Oh well.  We’ll get ’em next week.  Go Red Raiders!”

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