In fact, if he were running for President, I would probably be in Iowa (nah, more likely, New Hampshire–to try and get a little early season skiing in, too) at this very moment. 

 I was thinking about this because yesterday, oddly, when I mentioned that I was from Atlanta orginally, someone gave me a grim look and asked if that meant I was a Southern conservative.  This befuddled me, and I said, well, my positions line up almost identically with Russ Feingold’s, if that helps you.  Which it didn’t.  (The Senator likes guns more than I do, but that may be the difference between living in an urban area and a rural one.)

I wish Feingold had thrown his little hat in the ring, but I suppose–since he makes so damn much sense–that he wouldn’t have had a chance. 

For some reason, that area of the country produces some unusually interesting politicians, mostly notably Paul Wellstone–who left us far too soon, alas.  (Hubert Humphrey and Eugene McCarthy also hailed from that neck of the woods, although dare a former Southerner like me mention such a thing?)

This is a good book, but I resent the fact that liberals now feel compelled to call themselves Progressives.  It offends me that the word “liberal” has suddenly found itself ranked among the worst insults in the world.  (A cheery example I invariably use is, if someone has just offered you some absolutely fabulous homemade ice cream, would you want a liberal serving of it–or a conservative one?  Me, I want the big old liberal serving) 

Although I do prefer pragmatic liberals, to the outraged-to-the-point-of-hysteria version, who never manage to do much more than be annoying and shrill.

Insofar as the South goes, I miss good old-fashioned yellow dog Democrats. 

Joe Biden is still doing extremely well in the debates–entirely under the radar, in my opinion–but I really wish he had risen above the temptation to announce that he spoke to both Musharraf and Bhutto, before the President did.  It may be true, but it was unseemly to toss it into a debate, I thought. 

Then again, the debate–in general–was fairly unseemly, and not wildly interesting.  Hillary had a better night, but I’m still looking for some genuine leadership, and not the calculated caution.  Which doesn’t mean that John McCain shouldn’t be ashamed of himself for allowing this insult to go essentially unremarked.  (Had the woman who made the remark been slightly less smug in her own right, it might not have seemed quite as gratuitous and unpleasant.) 

Iowa polls to the contrary, Barack still seems to be in free-fall, and the debate didn’t help him at all, in my opinion.  This piece has to have Adlai Stevenson rolling over in his grave.   There is no question that both men are smart, but I didn’t find the article at all convincing, in its attempt to paint Barack as Adlai’s ineffectual heir.   

And this latest Beltway story is just odd.  (although, as usual, Senator Obama’s staff handled it poorly–which continues to make me really nervous.  He seems to surround himself with low-level minor league talent, at best–and I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking for that in our next President.  I want the best and brightest minds in the country to fill important positions in the next Administration–in extreme contrast to the current one.)

Ah, enough politics for now.  Except that I am reading this, and recommend it.  I think he is a much more interesting and ambitious novelist than he ever seems to get credit for being–possibly because he has the bad luck to share a last name with a cottage-industry, heavily ghostwritten thriller writer?  Anyway, I’m not always crazy about his courtroom books, but the political ones are nifty, and fun–yet, also well-researched. 

I am not sure whether I want to read this.  Back in college, I would have been eager to grab it immediately.  Now?  Alas, no. 

Saw Razor on 42nd Street this week, and enjoyed it.  (Here is a review with spoilers; click at your own risk.  I liked it better than he did, especially up on the big screen.  Here are some more spoilers)  I was afraid that there would be people in costumes everywhere, but it was an after-work crowd in business clothes.  Total Battlestar addicts–but, comfortingly non-geeky ones.

Sign Mike Lowell, already, Theo!

Stowe opened for the season.  Life is good.