Okay, yes — Kamala Harris was totally bombed (on something, whether it be drink or pills) when she delivered her Thanksgiving valediction yesterday, right? We can all admit that? You “have the same power [intoxicated pause] that you did before November 5” to recognize that, right? Yes, it’s embarrassing — the only thing harder to conceive of from a professional messaging operation than the video is the DNC staffer who said, “That’s gold, let’s roll with it.” (Imagine the outtakes.) But the hour before vacation is late, and I prefer mercy.

Later in her life, my mom — bless her dear and recently departed heart, I miss ya every day, mom, and I hope you can see I made good — acquired one of those “backup prescriptions” I suspect many suburban mothers of unruly children eventually get, for the sedative lorazepam. She would use it infrequently to help her through truly traumatic moments. (We’re talking about thoroughly horrifying events, such as “I just saw my new and beloved family dog get run over by a car, and it wasn’t the driver’s fault.” She offered me a few in the aftermath of that hateful day back in 2006, but I was too wired, as I was back for 1L Christmas vacation and had to wake at 7 a.m. to run downstairs to my wailing mother and pack up poor Sonya, still alive but fatally wounded, into the car for a trip to the veterinarian from which she would never return.)

I know what it’s like to watch a beloved dog die (far more important, I know what it’s like to watch my mom suddenly and unnecessarily die, for that matter), so I can’t even imagine what it feels like to lose a presidential election as pathetically as Harris did, with all of the hope of a national party suddenly thrust upon her unprepared shoulders. You think I’m mocking her — and I swear to God and to you, I am not. It’s easy to mock people who lean on one crutch or another to get through hard times, but I can understand because I’ve never forgotten how actual humans react to actual hardship.

So yes, let’s have a laugh about how many glasses of wine (or sedatives) Harris must have quaffed before recording 30 seconds of disjointed incoherence. But let us also remember at year’s end that we are heading into a season of forgiveness, of reconciliation, and hopefully one of joy (real joy, not Democratic Party manufactured “Joy”), and that behooves us to forgive a candidate her weaknesses as she bids the political world farewell.