If you voted for Hill-dog
Biscuits and Gravy: Why the fuck did you drink so god damn much last night? Oh right. When I get totally hammered, I need some god damn grease. Something stuffed with fat and salt to really sop up the toxic cauldron of regret fumes that's stewing in the guts. And nothing is better after eating 5,000 calories of butter and pork fat than taking a glorious nap afterward. Sweet sweet Gravy Nap. Biscuits and Gravy don't give a shit about your feelings of bitterness and regret. No one knows anything, except the comforting certain deliciousness of butter and pork fat. That will have to do, don't be an asshole.
If you voted for The Donald
Huevos Rancheros: Why the fuck did you drink so god damn much last night? Oh right. Stay with me now. This is all about the beans. Beans are my secret weapon whenever I drink way too much. It provides comfort when you're in pain, but it also doesn't knock you out like the other greasy stuff can. It also saves space in case someone gets overambitious and orders a big thing of bacon. And as a bonus, sometimes those beans can make you rip epic farts, and farts are always funny. I refer to HR as my victory meal. But it's not a license to be an asshole, so don't be an asshole.
If you played Battlefield 1
SO GOOD, RIGHT? It's intense in a way that feels more realistic than any other shooter out there. Call of Duty, Titanfall, Destiny, Halo… all the major shooters have that same feeling, like you're some super-heroic shooty-man. But with Battlefield 1, I feel like I'm just a dude with a gun, just trying to survive. The battles hold no glory, and the only reward after victory is to move on to the next fight. All you have is your squad, maybe that medic you keeps you up so you can toss the final anti-tank grenade. Or that scout, who stays way back but spots everyone for you like he fucking should because that's the whole point of the class. And hopefully get enough War Bonds to buy that sweet-ass SMG.
Oh and Joe Arpaio lost, that piece of shit.