You stand over the charred remnants of the campaign posters of your political opposition, knowing your sacrifice to the dark god you pray to for success in the election will answer your grim prayer and set alight the flesh of your enemy. For months you have been burning signs, photographs, and opposing party voter registration forms in hopes that the ashes scooped into the maw of the obsidian idol next to your keyboard will sate the eldritch one’s hunger.
Beats going outside and talking to normies.