These are good times.

Really good times.  Fabulous times.

Somewhere down the line, My People will forget how incredibly lucky we have been for the past few years.

The only saving grace is that it will be easier to get tickets.

Is it safe to talk about books these days?  I think it is, although I may be proven wrong.

I just finished Curtis Sittenfeld’s American Wife, and found it very unsettling, indeed.  Like Prep, I thought it was extremely well-observed, without being particularly engaging–or entertaining.  But, American Wife was a strange, and puzzling, choice, for a novelist to make.  The notion of a stranger publishing an extremely personal and speculative version of a person’s actual life is–I don’t know–unseemly. Rude, even.  It will certainly make the author rich, but I’m pretty confident that the author was already rich, so I’m not sure I see the point.  I would say that the entire project borders on stalking–except that I think it crossed the border, relocated to a new country entirely, settled down and began to grow crops.  (and if you find the Buffy reference in there, you’re good)

I suppose that Primary Colors was an unnecessary novel in a very similar way, but somehow, it seemed less–prurient.  Or, maybe just less scatological.  Then again, Joe Klein, for all his failings as a pundit, is simply a more compelling writer.  I suspect that Ms. Sittenfeld was aiming for Theodore Dreiser–which might have been a damned interesting creative choice, and a really good book–but, ended up with–well–Olivia Goldsmith, instead.  (It doesn’t help that the last third of the novel is a rushed blur, and clearly the result of trying to hit a demanding deadline schedule.)

American Wife is worth reading, and–sort of–ambitious, but after I finished it, I was left feeling as though I should go wash my hands.

I’m currently about halfway through Giles Blunt’s By The Time You Read This, which I’m enjoying.  A nice, solid book.  It won’t reinvent the wheel, but then again, it wasn’t designed to do so.

What else?  The Camera, by Ansel Adams.  Dense, demanding–and very informative.  Actually, I hope to read the entire series, but I’m starting with The Camera.  (Here’s a great article about photography, by the way, on an excellent site.)  Fletcher Knebel and Charles W. Bailey Il’s surprisingly not-as-dated-as-you-would-think Convention. A book about fishermen called Their Fathers’ Work.  Everything the Instructors Never Told You About Mogul Skiing–because, even though such things are probably out of my reach, it can’t hurt to try to improve.  Red Sox Rule–for no other reason than because I feel like it.

And I was completely delighted to pick up an affordable secondhand copy of The New Professional Chef, which I had wanted for a really long time.

I haven’t read The War Within yet, but I assume I will, at some point.

And–it scarcely needs saying–but, go, Red Sox!

I must be candid.  When I first heard that Senator McCain had chosen Governor Sarah Palin to be his running mate, I laughed my head off.  In fact, I laughed for about two days straight.  Not derisive laughter, mind you.  I laughed because the pick was audacious, savvy–and profoundly stupid.

Then, various pieces of information began to surface (nope, not going to go into detail about things most people already know, and which would further invade other people’s privacy), and the situation moved from funny–to bizarre.

Only, she turned around and gave quite a good speech.  Far better than the ones by the other three members of the two tickets, in my opinion–and for anyone who didn’t get the memo, a vice presidential pick is routinely expected to be an attack dog.  The fact that Governor Palin can be vicious–and still look so very cheerful and friendly at the same time–kind of appeals to me, and some (not all) of her criticisms of the Democratic nominee are concerns that I share.  I’m also not going to pretend to be upset about the fact that, in November, either a person of color or a woman is going to be elected.  How can anyone spin that into anything other than good news, and a sign of tremendous progress?

But, I have to say that if you kill wolves–or anything else, for that matter–you are not My Pal.  Not now.  Not ever.  In fact, it made me scrape up some spare cash and send it here.

I have also–grimly–purchased an Obama/Biden 08 hat, but I haven’t worn it yet.

Nevertheless, I am not a fan of people who decide that if you don’t agree with them on every single issue, across the board, you are evil.  Only the Yankees are evil.  Profoundly evil.  Inescapably evil.  Even when the issue involves abortion and choice.  I don’t like abortion, either.  Is there anyone who does?  But, the point, for me, is that people must be free to make their own choices about their own bodies and their own lives,and the government–or any religion anywhere–should not be involved.  However, I still allow for the possibility that reasonable people can agree to disagree in a civil manner–and I’m damned if I’ll make an “of course, I support the idea of women in public office, just not this woman” argument.  For people keeping score at home, that was the logic which destroyed Senator Clinton–who would probably have been a very fine President, and really would have won in November.  Judging from the many articles and blogs I have wasted countless hours reading lately, no one is spewing more invective towards Governor Palin than self-described liberal feminists.  What I have learned during this campaign season is that it is considered very, very bad if Republicans make unpleasant, inflammatory and divisive remarks; but, if Democrats do the same thing, it is excellent!  And if they are passive-aggressive about it or use clumsy surrogates (see Obama, Senator Barack), so much the better!

I say, enough already.  Governor Palin and I have many different beliefs.  So what?  I don’t have to vote for her.  I don’t even have to be fond of her.  But, I don’t have to spout out a bunch of spiteful things simply because we don’t share much common ground.  Senator McCain was quite right when he said (I paraphrase) that Americans are tired of everyone yelling all the time.  Although, honestly, we talk a lot about sexism and racism, and yet I can’t help wondering whether classism is what really rules this country–and this election.

Many Democrats seem to be enjoying having fun at Governor Palin’s expense, but I suspect it will all seem less jolly in November.  Instead, they should really be afraid.  Very afraid.

On a happier note, go, Patriots!

I have actually always liked, and respected, Senator McCain.  And it’s hard not to admire someone who survived years of torture in a POW camp. I get deeply offended by the non-stop ageism of this campaign, just as the endless racism and sexism is ugly and disgraceful–and completely beneath my vision of the way people are supposed to behave towards one another.  It is actually possible to disagree with someone politically, and still be courteous.  Americans should be able to accept a wide variety of opinions from their fellow Americans, without constantly going to pieces.  (And if I never hear the phrase “denounce and repudiate” again, I’ll be delighted)

But then, Senator McCain did this, and my opinion of him changed forever. The Office of the Presidency does deserve respect, even if you’re not a fan of its current occupant, but I certainly would not go out of my way to embrace the person who treated my daughter with such callous disrespect in the 2000 Republican primaries. But, then, Senator McCain would almost certainly have to be carrying some heavy guilt about the way he handled his first marriage, so maybe he doesn’t wish to cast stones.

I am a very competitive person–always have been–but, I have never wanted to win anything enough to switch my beliefs–and also, to beg strangers for money. It’s degrading.

I would never tack to the center, or veer to the right–just to win an election.  I’d rather be elected–or not–based upon my actual beliefs.  (which could well be quite centrist in many areas–which means that I wouldn’t turn to the left to hoodwink a bunch of primary and caucus voters, either.)  Wouldn’t it be nice to elect someone to high office, and actually know what to expect from the person, once he or she was sworn in?  I have no idea who Barack Obama is, and that makes me very nervous, but who is John McCain?  This version of him is pretty terrifying.  This version isn’t.  And this version is somewhere in-between–until you give it more thought, whereupon it goes back to being alarming.  (and do I privately think that Senator Clinton would have made mincemeat out of Senator McCain last night, instead of a halting, inconsistent performance which hurt Senator Obama more than it helped?  Well, yes.  I do think that–and quite openly, it would seem)

The problem is, there’s a really good chance that Senator McCain is going to win in November, for many reasons–some of which are within Senator Obama’s control, and some of which aren’t.  Ergo, my energies will be going down-ticket, since if Senator McCain does win, he is certainly a one-term President, and with strong majorities in the House and Senate, the amount of damage he can do in four years will be mitigated.  Particularly with different, and more courageous, Congressional leadership–but, that is a topic for another day.

So, where’s Al Gore?  Funny that such a prominent Democrat isn’t slated to speak at the Convention, isn’t it? Hmmm.  Could it be–?  Yeah, it’s a pipe-dream, but by God, I’m going to allow myself to have it.

Boy, how embarrassing is that?

I joined for the most foolish of reasons–which I can admit here, because it is not a secret.  I, quite frankly, signed up in order to be able to spy on a much-loved child, and make sure no shenanigans were taking place.  The child and I were both quite open about this and, in fact, give each other quite a lot of space.  But, we poke each other regularly and the like (Hey, it’s a Facebook thing; what can I tell you?), and all seemed to be well.

But then, it turns out–oh, the ignominy!–that Facebook has games.  Lots and lots of games.  I like games.

First, I was playing a game called Triumph.  There were soldiers involved.  It seemed like great fun–until it got entirely monotonous, after a remarkably short period of time.  (I have subsequently discovered that most of the people in the game were cheating madly, and creatively, and that was what made it continue to seem entertaining for longer periods of time.)  But, I was bored, so I moved on to Dope Wars, where I joined a predominantly Malayasian drug cartel–and became remarkably good at the game, and made many new friends from all over the world.

However, it was awkward, when a bright-eyed, bespectacled nine-year-old in my life asked, happily, in the elevator, if I was currently selling crystal meth–or heroin?  And I, without thinking, said, “well, the profit margin for the crystal meth seems to be higher.”  I won no friends among our fellow passengers.

However, the Dope Wars application was fatally flawed, and one entirely un-golden day, I could no longer access said game, without encountering dreadful configuration problems.  So, it was on to King of the World.  King of the World is excellent.  I now belong to a large and ruthless multi-national alliance–with an absolutely dreadful reputation within the game; mostly because we play with great abandon, and display remarkable teamwork for people who live in wildly varying time-zones.

But, teamwork requires a non-stop flurry of messages on each other’s Royal Walls, and our discussion boards (plus, the friendly conversations I generally end up having with the people we are attacking), and Facebook decided I must be a spammer, and sent me what is known as The Dreaded Red Box–wherein, I was to be eliminated from the site at once, if I did not mend my garrulous ways.

So now, I am trying to be very, very silent–which is hard.  My teammates and I can take ourselves over to MSN, or even use good old-fashioned email–and how scary is it that email seems slow and clunky and antediluvian, in this context?–but, it’s just not the same.  I am trying to stay quiet for an entire week, which is thought to be the amount of time the mysterious Orwellian Facebook Police (who respond to no forms of contact, answer no questions whatsoever, and are known to make arbitrary and final decisions) require, in order not to delete one’s account.

But, this has made me think about a couple of things.  First of all, does it make any sense that a social networking site would go out of its way to discourage–socializing?  If anyone has an answer to that paradox, I would be deeply curious to hear it.

The situation has also made me think about teams.  It is a subject which has come to mind often lately, particularly since I am a member of a few teams–which directly resulted in my being injured in a very frightening, egregiously unsportsmanlike, and unnecessary way last week, with an uncertain prognosis.  (the details are not particularly relevant, or interesting.)  But, this event has–much to my dismay–definitely put me in an “exactly when is it time to hang up the old cleats?” frame of mind.

I have been a Democrat since I was a small child, and always considered that a team, except that once the Party embraced Unity, it turned out that the only change was that it is now making a point of excluding millions of its former members in a startlingly hostile and dimwitted way.  Then again, I continue to be one of those old-fashioned and currently unpopular people who really do support the 1st and 4th Amendments–and believe in the right to privacy, the freedom to marry whomever one wishes to marry, and a person’s unfettered ability to make personal medical decisions for him or herself.   I also do not like off-shore drilling or abrogating  the separation between church and state, or denouncing and repudiating–and insulting–anyone who dares to disagree with me–which means that, apparently, I am no longer a Democrat.

Which leaves me with very limited options politically–and little or no stomach for continuing to follow the current campaign season, except in the most vague and casual way.

Luckily, I have a more reliable and entertaining team to watch.  One of the best right-handed hitters of the modern era was traded to Hollywood–and the Red Sox are so very much better off.  Tremendous talent did not change the fact that he was hurting the team, and his replacement certainly seems to be working out, so far.

Few things interest me less than the New York Jets.

Finally, on the subject of teams, this episode has its moments, but is not one of my favorites.

I want to read this,  and am already reading this one, but expect to have better things to do than spend good money on this.  Fortunately, the world is full of fine libraries.

In fact, I adore puppies.  Lots of puppies.  I am partial to German Shepherd puppies, but really, all puppies are excellent.  I’m not sure that there is any such thing as a non-adorable puppy.

I am also fond of kittens.  All kittens.  Well, okay, maybe not this kitten.  (No, wait, I like that one, too, and have even been known to wear this shirt out in public.)

And this is a very sobering piece of information.  Take heed!

Do I like baby robins?  You bet!

And butterflies?  Yes!  Especially monarchs.

Is is possible to be much cuter than this?  No, it is not.

Is this an appropriate gift for a baby?  Of course!

One of my favorite charities is the Best Friends Animal Society.  I haven’t been able to do it yet, but I have heard that they actually permit you to spend your vacation there, taking care of strays and just generally pitching in around the sanctuary.  This appeals to me.

I anticipate that tomorrow’s disturbing and controversial blog subject will be–gumdrops.  Or flowers.  Or ice cream.  Or mittens.

Or maybe just this, and everyone can go out and buy their own copy.

Until then, I leave you with this.

Which, if you watch Battlestar Galactica, should frighten you a great deal.

He is certainly brilliant, extremely attractive to many, and has a messianic appeal, which baffles and eludes a good number of sensible adults–of which, I like to consider myself one.  And, if these guys show up, I would absolutely expect Senator Obama to respond the same way Baltar did.

What can I say?  For me, it’s Roslin all the way.  Always has been, always will be.

All half-kidding aside, Senator Obama has failed to impress me from the very beginning.  At best, this is the person I see.  Mostly, though–despite knowing that this opinion is likely to make me very unpopular–I see someone who cares more about winning, than he cares about principles, and who is mainly just interested in his own political fortunes–which look very good, at the moment, given the utter and continuing ineptitude of his current opponent.

The FISA vote is just one example of the evolution of The Chosen One to Mr. Expediency.  (Here is the actual text of the bill, if you have a little time on your hands.)  He could have done this, but he didn’t.  Making the convenient choice to abandon public financing doesn’t thrill me.  Waffling on choice really doesn’t thrill me.  (No, NARAL, your check is not now–nor, from now on, will it ever be–in the mail.  I daresay I’ll send a donation here, instead.)  I am also strangely fond of the First Amendment, so the hue and cry over the recent New Yorker cover is very tiresome, indeed.  It does, however, obfuscate the very mixed profile contained within the actual issue, which may have been the campaign’s–clever and opportunistic–intent the entire time.  However, this Slate writer has a nice line:  “Only weak thinkers fear strong images.”

Is it possible that the invariable humorlessness of the Obama campaign is what I dislike most of all?  Yes.  The fall-out from the not-all-that-shocking cover reminds me of Robert Redford’s lament to Barbra Streisand in The Way We Were, when he tells her (I paraphrase), after she falls apart when being heckled during an impassioned political speech, “You had them, Katie. If only you had just laughed.”  It is probably very, very wrong of me to think this article is funny.  (I am sure this is funny–but, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong.)

And, since I’m one of those wacky people who deplores the death penalty, and thinks the Second Amendment does not mandate an individual’s right to own firearms, you can imagine how excited I am about the Senator’s slippery positions on those two issues.  The idea of spending four to eight years of living in this world is just exhausting.  If we’re very, very lucky, we may catch a break for the next few days, and neither Senator Obama, nor any members of his campaign, will feel the need to denounce or repudiate anyone.  But, there seems to be no shortage of people for them to insult, so, don’t hold your breath.

Yet, I am a pragmatist, and–by relying on precedents like Griswold v. Connecticut–I would be willing to allow the current misinterpretation of the Second Amendment remain permanently unchanged (with the proviso that the phrase “well regulated” be applied, as well), in exchange for an ironclad agreement that Roe v. Wade would also remain untouched, in perpetuity.  Seems like a fair trade to me, and could, in fact, be justified by accepting the notion that in the United States, an individual does retain a right to privacy, and that the government should not be allowed to interfere with a person’s ability to exercise that right.  (which, all things being equal, means that the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” disastrous policy would also be struck down at once, that Proposition 8 would be defeated in California, and that euthanasia would no longer be an area in which the government is permitted to interfere in any way.)

Not that it will ever happen–but, wouldn’t that strategy solve a lot of huge problems and issues which divide so many Americans, in a matter of seconds?

Remind me why Mr. Gore didn’t run again?

By the way, nice work, if you can get it.

I’d kind of like to read this, although I might wait until fall, and I think this one can definitely wait for a paperback edition, or a trip to the library.  But, even though I was underwhelmed by the first two books this writer published, I’m not going to lie–I’m really might curious about this.  It looks like good, trashy fun.

I never thought I would be entertained by fifteen endless innings of an All-Star game–but, I was.  Three cheers for J.D. Drew!

The Democratic Party is broken. In fact, I don’t think too many people would disagree with me if I were to say that, right now, the entire country is not in particularly good shape. Ever since that terrible September morning in New York — which had the most shockingly beautiful blue sky I ever remember seeing in my city — I’m not sure we have even gotten close to being who we were or, at least, who we hoped we were. What makes that even more sad is that, no matter where you fall on the political spectrum, today should be a truly glorious day. After last night, America really never will be quite the same — and that’s a good thing. I would even argue that it’s a great thing.

But, in the spirit of full disclosure, I have been a supporter of Senator Clinton throughout the primary season. Her tactics have often annoyed and sometimes even disgusted me, but I still thought she would be the most effective president during a time when the country seems to need grit and determination and the grinding tedium of hard work to get ourselves back on track. Unfortunately, I think she and Senator Obama have been caught up in a bizarre maelstrom of non-stop punditry and over-analysis and media-fed miscommunication — most of which has just made me feel like going somewhere and lying down with a cool cloth on my forehead.

Everywhere I have gone today — both in the real world, and in the peculiar, highly charged environment known as the Internet — instead of celebrating the fact that we’ve been catapulted into a new era, people seem short-tempered and tense and confused. When you think about it, that’s really quite heartbreaking. And, day after day, the division between the two competing halves of the Democratic Party seems to be growing even more ugly and intractable.

One often hears the question “What can Senator Obama do to unify this vast sea of wildly opinionated, intensely involved citizens?” I have a very simple suggestion, which — at first glance — will sound rather banal and meaningless. I respectfully ask anyone who happens to read this to stop and take a second glance.

There is simply no way for the deplorable wounds of racism and sexism to be erased during a single campaign season, no matter how groundbreaking it truly is, in so many ways. But, I have been waiting for Senator Obama to do something — anything –that would make me say, okay, it isn’t just pretty words, or the fervent wistful projections of a battered populace, but that he really is capable of bold, transformational action.

I would love, for example, for Senator Obama to be able to take Al Gore’s graceful and elegant position on gay marriage, but I recognize that it would not be an act of wisdom during a heated election. But, there is actually a different, long-dormant issue that still lurks, privately, as a tremendous disappointment to millions of Americans — myself among them.

It’s a blast from the past, but remember the ERA? There are many people who will probably think, oh, please, that is such old news — but, you know, it isn’t. It mattered then, and it matters now, even though no one ever mentions it anymore. What if Senator Obama came out and said that one of his first acts as president would be to do everything in his power to bring the ERA back, and try to get it ratified, once and for all? Yes, I suppose it seems like ancient history, but the words are very simple: “Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.” At the time, many people found the entire concept irrationally terrifying, but does it still seem scary and radical? Or does it just seem — logical?

And is it within the realm of possibility that if Senator Obama took that position, openly and proudly, a statistically significant percentage of Senator Clinton’s most devoted and intelligent supporters would suddenly feel much more comfortable with — and maybe even enthusiastic about — his candidacy? I will be honest — it would certainly make a difference to me. It would be a symbolic gesture, but an important one.

Would those 24 words end the war in Iraq, fix the economy, or provide universal health care for one and all?

No. But, those 24 words matter.

They always have.

They still do.

**This piece was originally published at The Huffington Post/Off The Bus

(The direct link is here; they will be adding my full name ASAP, for what it’s worth)

I like history.

I have always liked history.

And although it is on another, very grim topic, this, in my opinion, is an beautifully written piece of history.  So is this.  But when I was trying–and failing–to get my PhD in–you guessed it!–history, I was told that, over and over, that I was defining history incorrectly.

However, I am really quite certain that last night actually does fall into the category of history.    Setting aside any personal political preferences I may or may not have, my response is: mazel tov!

As far as I can tell, no one has more fun than these guys.  I never imagined a world where the Red Sox would get to celebrate, on a regular basis.  Life as a Red Sox fan always felt like this.

But, last night, something extra-special happened.  Two years ago, Jon Lester was a twenty-two year old rookie–with some back pain.  Unfortunately, to the shock of everyone involved, the diagnosis turned out to be cancer.  (Mike Lowell, the Red Sox third baseman, is also a cancer survivor, as it happens.)   Thankfully, he was able to fight the disease off, and resume his career–and in October 2007, guess who won the last game of the World Series?  Yes, that would be Jon Lester.

And last night, the man (nope, I’m not going to call him a “kid,” because I think he’s a Man) threw a no-hitter.  The last time a Red Sox left-hander accomplished that feat was in 1956.  So, what Mr. Lester did was very special–and his back-story only makes it more so.   It was great.  Really, really great.

This week, another young Red Sox player was diagnosed with cancer, and I just heard the sad news about Ted Kennedy, also.  And we can’t forget all of the people who are bravely fighting this disease (and other terrible diseases), day in and day out–but, not in the public eye.  I know–and admire–a few of them; I bet you do, too.

I am going to go right now and send a donation to one of my favorite charities, The Jimmy Fund.