I woke up the Sunday before the election and had only just begun brushing my teeth when my phone started blowing up with text messages. There’s a flyer in my mailbox and it’s not good. Cassie, there’s a picture of you blowing the Pope. Call me. My brain and body flooded with white-hot rage and adrenaline, and I called Scott, the person who had texted me, while throwing on jeans in a panic. Scott was one of the other Democratic candidates for city council in our small town. He was a combat