I cannot believe we have to endure more than NINE MORE MONTHS of campaign torture before we can pick a president. Nine more months of debates over who is more like Ronald Reagan (or isn't). Nine more months of mudslinging, pandering, obfuscation, and mind-numbing one-on-one interviews with Mitt and Mike and McCain (and Rudy, unless he gets a call from his wife)... Hill and Bill (two, two presidents for the price of one!), Obama, and John Edwards (who I am convinced must have a portrait stashed away in his attic or basement 'cause the man barely looks a day over 40) on the Sunday morning talk shows and NPR (which I love, but the story on what it really meant when Obama voted "present" in the Illinois Senate just put me over the edge).
Nine long, agonizing months. (Oh and before one of you writes, "What about Dennis Kucinich?" let me just say that although he has some good ideas, and can be very funny, he ain't going to be our next president. Of course, neither will most of these folks, but I had to draw the line somewhere.)
Nine months. That's about how long it took Rosemary to give birth to her baby, the anti-Christ, right? I was just reading a synopsis of "Rosemary's Baby" on Wikipedia (Cliff Notes for the Internet set!), where it says Rosemary, shortly after discovering she is pregnant, "soon finds out the horrible truth, that Guy [her husband] allowed the devil to impregnate her in exchange for a successful career." Sort of like finding out that candidate who you trusted, who you naively believed was acting in your best interests, who you dutifully voted for, was actually in the pay of some nefarious special interest -- and now there's the devil to pay. Let us all pray this is not the case.
I have not fully made up my mind for whom I will vote. (Look Ma, no dangling preposition!) But I like the idea of Obama. Yes, yes, he's weak on experience, especially on foreign policy. But so was Abe Lincoln. To me a good leader is someone who is smart, well educated (on the issues, not necessarily that he or she had to have attended a good college), passionate, with good ideas, who surrounds him- or herself with smarter people who can execute on those ideas. OK, there's a lot more to being a good leader -- especially President with a capital P (which rhymes with "T," which stands for Tool!) than that, but you get my drift.
So back to Obama. I believe, perhaps naively, that Barack Hussein Obama -- whose father was from Kenya, who lived and studied in Indonesia when he was a kid, who has worked with and for the poor, who is young and, yes, seemingly full of hope (though technically Mike Huckabee is too, Hope, Arkansas, that is) -- would send a powerful, positive message to the rest of the world, if just in name and resume only, and would make it more difficult for foreign extremists to rationalize attacking us. Like I said, that may be naive on my part, but that's not the only reason I want Obama to succeed, nor why I am, for now, an Obama Mama. (For some truly insightful, well written, and humorous political prose, check out Gail Collins of The New York Times. And for all you lefties with a sense of humor, do visit Betty Cracker's blog.)
On a MUCH lighter note... I did mention the words "fore play" in the subject line, and I don't want to disappoint, though I'm afraid I will anyway. Having come to the sad realization that I can't smoke (makes me sick and is bad for you anyway), can't do drugs (ditto), can't drink alcohol (ditto, though I hear a little bit is actually good for you), or caffeinated beverages (ditto), can't carbo load (ditto), can't eat tuna sushi (ditto), can't drive over 55 (at least when there are cops around), can't be center for the Knicks (too short, too old, and can't dunk), and a few other other things which I know I shouldn't do (and you know who you are ; ), I have come to the conclusion that the only two vices left to me are gambling and golf (hence the "fore" play).
Yes, yes, I hear what some of you are thinking, and I will deal with you later. (Did I mention I can read minds?) You are thinking: But gambling isn't good for you either. You could lose your shirt! (Which could lead to drinking... or worse, eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream or that one with the fudge core.) Take it easy. I always go with a buddy and take only what I can afford to lose -- much less actually. Hey, a girl's got to have a little fun, right?
As for golf, my father was (at one time) a scratch golfer and always hoped I would play. But I somehow managed to resist the urge (actually, there has never been an urge) to play a round, or even nine holes, confining my play to courses of the miniature variety. Until now. There I was, in the kitchen the other day, flipping through the upcoming local Continuing Education offerings when I saw it, an opportunity to pick up a club and whack at something small and hard. How could I resist? So far I have, but I am seriously thinking about. The first class starts in April. Stay tuned...
We’re Rootin’ for You, Lulu
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