Somewhere near 4am, I turned into an awful blowhard, didn't I? Congratulations, Josh: You bring out the self-righteous, sanctimonious prig in me. (I bet you get that from all the girls.)
It has, as ever, been an honor and a pleasure sparring with you. Win or lose – and let's not call this a landslide just yet; I'm about to mobilize the phone banks, maybe buy some airtime...plus there's that whole airport bathroom stall scandal I've been keeping in my back pocket – I look forward to shaking hands with you across the aisle at next week's Happy Hour.
And then of course there's next weekend, when I'll be locking you in a room with me to watch 11 Hitchcock films in a row for our upcoming Halloween feature.
Just you wait: Hitchcock will heal all our wounds.
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