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.

It is a small state, but a delightful one–where, as it happens, I grew up.

Rhode Island makes the best lemonade in the world.

We enjoy tasty treats like coffee milk and johnnycakes. And if you are homesick, you can always order delicacies from the Ocean State, or attempt to prepare them yourself.

There are great beaches–and if you are peculiar enough to enjoy seafood, there are many fine spots to sample local traditions like clam cakes. (I do not care for them, but I am very much in the minority. The restaurants are nifty, in any case.)

You can get an excellent education, even though you may speak with an odd accent. Regardless, we tend to be a happy group of people, because things like this make us laugh our heads off.

Proms are held at fun places.

It is possible to watch the Baby Red Sox for less than ten dollars a ticket.

I learned how to ski in Rhode Island.

The mayor of Providence was my pal in high school. I hope he runs for governor, during the next election cycle–and have no doubt that he would win.

I love the way the state votes!

After months of huffing and puffing, we now have some Actual Results–and I, for one, was left disappointed in a way that I don’t think I would have predicted, even though I’m pretty sure we’re all supposed to be really happy. In fact, my friend Barbara and I spent a very long time on the telephone afterwards, moping and fretting and engaging in pre-game analysis of New Hampshire, South Carolina, and Nevada. Is it, in the end, about really wanting a woman to win, even if one is not a huge fan of the particular person running? Possibly so, because I felt a certain sense of despair watching her get trounced. (Third place, and 9 percentage points behind, with 100% of the precincts reporting. Wow. Are heads rolling up and down the aisle of the campaign plane tonight? One can only assume so.)

And–yes–I’m disappointed. Miles to go before we sleep, and all of that–but, disappointed. Granted, my horse, Senator Feingold, wasn’t even in the race, but it doesn’t seem like a good sign when you’re sitting around thinking, well, okay, if the junior Senator from Illinois with no legislative accomplishments whatsoever–and a disgraceful attendance record, to boot–wins the Big Prize, at least he’s smart, and that will be a nice change.

Barack reminds me of the guy with whom you have an absolutely glorious first date, and you run home and tell everyone you know that you met someone intelligent, and good-looking, and funny, and he’s perfect, and they should maybe start saving up for your favorite silverware–except then, you go out with him again. And you’re dying to fall in love with him, because on paper, he just seems so wonderful–but, for some reason, privately, you’re already losing interest, and like Buffy, you’re kind of going through the motions. And, your loved ones say, gosh, you have not mentioned Barack at all lately, what’s up with that?–and you sigh and shrug, and mumble a lot.

Which was an embarrassingly banal description, but I am from New England, and many of My People are not good at expressing the way we feel about things.

Maureen Dowd did a fine job, though, and quite effectively pinned down part of what is bothering me the most about the winner of the Iowa Caucus–and the person who came in third. (is it wrong to say that the notion of 4–or 8–years of Michelle just makes me tired? In fact, even writing those words means that I may have to go over to the cupboard and help myself to some of The Wonder Drug immediately. The Caucus has only been over for a few hours–and I already want her to go away and leave me alone. Which was true the very first time I saw her interviewed, actually. Way too passive-aggressive–and simultaneously garden-variety aggressive, to wear well over the long haul. Or, in my case, the very short haul.)

But, regardless, it has all Begun–and until February 5th, we are looking at non-stop pundits, and talking points. Sigh. Deep sigh. Exhaustion. More Wonder Drug. And, perhaps, I’ll chase that with a glass of Rhode Island Elixir.

Is anyone else awfully damn sick of the word “Change” every four seconds? It beats “Tyranny,” a word I have come to despise during the past seven years–but, not by much.

By the way, Mike Huckabee won, too. I kind of like the guy, but I still laughed my head off.

On a more positive note, the Red Sox have not traded Jacoby Ellsbury yet, and a week ago, I was lucky enough to witness this, from the second-to-the-last row of the stadium. Although the friend I was with would assure you otherwise, (I was grouchy and tense and no fun at all for more than three full quarters), I enjoyed the game very much, once Eli finally coughed up the predictable crucial interception.

Forget February 5th; I am waiting for January 12th.

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.

–makes me very dull.  I remember when I used to be a speedy and efficient worker; now, I am plodding and slow.  Or, it may just be some post-Post-Season malaise.  And the other Beloved Team has a bye week right now, so what is one to do?

My pal is dealing with a terrible scandal.  Oh, the horror!

With the strike, it looks as though we’re all going to be watching a lot of re-runs.  Recently, I have found that I need a Mary Cherry fix, and must address that.  Was it a flawed show?  Yes.  But, when it was on its game, it was genuinely hilarious.  It had a certain rhythm and style, which made it a complete giggle to watch.  Unfortunately, by adding a serious plot-thread during the second season, the show doomed itself, and sputtered to a finish.  Too bad.  I really liked it.

I caught my chum in the middle of a Buffy marathon recently, and was very jealous, even though he was–for unknown reasons–plowing through the disaster that was Season Six.  (with the notable exception of the musical, of course.)  I think I want to watch “Hush,” which has my single favorite scene of the entire series, and “Doppelgangland,” and “Passion,” and “Helpless,” and “Prophecy Girl,” and maybe even “Band Candy,” because I enjoy Jane Espenson’s sense of humor.  I do not particularly like Marti Noxon’s writing, but “The Wish” was actually pretty damn excellent. 

I adore Giles in every way–so, why am I Tara in this quiz?

Joss Whedon has a new series coming.  I am tentatively elated.

I think the Democratic Party, such as it is, had a really bad week.  Having major candidates conveniently skip the vote was extremely disappointing.  The next President is going to need to be bold and courageous–in order to try and fix the plethora of problems which s/he will face–and no one currently running seems to fall into that category. 

I don’t agree with her politics, but Peggy Noonan knows how to write.  Unfortunately, so does this guy, albeit not as well.  Luckily, Maureen Dowd does, too–and extremely well, indeed.

As ever, we really do need Laura Roslin to come back soon.  Until then, this will have to suffice.

Yeah, I’m probably going to talk about Iraq–but first, the Patriots need some praise.  Neither team was really sharp–and the officiating crew made what seemed like an intentional effort to insert themselves into the outcome–but, in the end, the Patriots did precisely what needed to be done.  Addai nearly won the game all by himself, though–it was a very impressive day on his part.  Bill Belichick may not be the most charming fellow ever (although I confess that I find him strangely–or maybe not so strangely–attractive), but seriously, if we had to go through D-Day again, wouldn’t you want him to be the guy planning it?  And read this, if you want to see why he is legitimately furious about the NFL using selective injustice against him earlier this season.  (Welcome to karma, dude.)

For those of you who dislike sports, you may stop skimming now, if so inclined.  But, if you hate politics, resume skimming at once. 

I don’t like the war in Iraq.  I thought it was stupid when it first came up; I think it’s stupid now.  I did support taking action in Afghanistan–even before September 11th.   After all, this was happening long before that terrible day.  By “action,” I don’t mean war, as such, but I think the international community could have been convinced to try and suppress the Taliban–and this could well have changed history.  Even this country might have agreed to help out, and that would certainly have had an impact on what is happening currently.  In fact, with intelligent leadership, we might have lots of friends we don’t have right now–and may never have again.  But, that is precisely the type of leadership we did not have–not even close–and it certainly hasn’t turned out very well.  There is no way anyone will ever know for sure, but I am quite convinced that if five members of the Supreme Court hadn’t decided to appoint a President of the United States all by themselves in 2000, the world would be entirely different–and some iconic buildings in lower Manhattan would still be standing. 

But, I digress.  Because, alas, we are in Iraq, and there is a dreadful mess to clean up.  On a short-term basis, the surge may be working a little bit, but unless our soldiers stay there indefinitely, that surely won’t be sustained, and that will have a devastating impact on the country for decades to come, I fear.  Both countries, actually.  If we were going to invade, there should have been a coherent plan–and the reality, I think, is that part of that plan would have required reinstating the draft.  Charlie Rangel may be a wacky guy, but I do think that he is right about this.  If there is going to be a major war, there really must be a sense of “shared sacrifice” across the country–or what you will end up with is….a defeat.  I very strongly believe that national service (not necessarily military, of course) should be a requirement for all citizens, and while I shudder at the thought of bringing back the draft, if we had a draft–with no loopholes–I suspect even the most bellicose Administration in history still wouldn’t be able to take the country to war against its will. 

But then again, as we know, this Administration’s idea of shared sacrifice is to say: “I encourage you all to go shopping more.”  Would it be that hard to suggest–for starters–oh, say, conserving energy?  Just a thought.

It is strange, actually, that yapping about the Patriots led me into thinking about Iraq so intensely.  But, really, Belichick’s win-at-all-costs; who-cares-if-it-is-pretty attitude is actually exactly what you need to win a war.  (Ever seen this page?  It’s quite damning.)  Yeah, it’s only football, but there’s a serious mind working there, and if he had taken a different life path and had been the Secretary of Defense back in 2003, it would be hard to convince me that the war–if, in fact, he had recommended such a thing, which it’s entirely possible he would have been far too intelligent to do–would not have turned out differently.

Right now, I am reading this.  But I think I would maybe rather be reading this.

Or possibly these, which I adored as a child.

Apparently so.  Who knew?

And here’s a piece of shocking news.  The real puzzle, of course, is why she was ever appointed to the position in the first place, since the notion always sounded more like a punch-line than anything else.

I was exceedingly tired–and working much too hard–last night, and completely forgot to watch the latest debate.  Thank God for C-Span, so that I can watch it later tonight online.  As a result, I have no idea whether this assessment is accurate, but in either case, I’m not sure whether the seemingly endless stream of debates does much–for either side–other than help members of the opposition store up more and more ammunition for the general election.  It’s often said that Senators have a terrible disadvantage, when it comes to running for President, because they have so many votes to explain.  And the electorate rarely has the patience to listen to legitimate “well, it was an excellent bill–except for the reprehensible amendment buried deep inside, and so, in the end, I really couldn’t vote for it” arguments.  Sometimes I wonder whether it really might be better to go back to the fabled smoke-filled rooms of old, insofar as selecting a candidate is concerned.

I’m not sure this was supposed to amuse me, but it did.  But then, apparently, I live in a place which is home to Stupid People–and so, it is easy to make us laugh.

I’m still, post-Beloved-Team, in a “Well, now what?!” fugue.  Which reminds me of an old favorite movie–but don’t click on the link, unless you want to have the ending spoiled.  (Small clue, in case you are having trouble making up your mind:  Robert Redford, 1972)  It actually doesn’t feel particularly dated, which was a nice surprise.  Last weekend, I watched Grease, with a 12 year old and an 8 year old–and to my dismay, the movie didn’t hold up at all.  Back in the day, I loved it. 

But, I am really looking forward to watching this.  At its best, it was truly wonderful, and surprisingly often, Holly Marie Combs would walk away with every single scene she was in, despite being surrounded by a superb cast.  If Ray Walston was the conscience of the show, she was very definitely the soul.  (Which I’ve always felt also held true for K.C. on China Beach, even though I find Marg Helgenberger’s current show, C.S.I., utterly unbearable.)  I’ll admit that I thought Charmed was a great deal of goofy fun, especially during the Shannen Doherty period, but I could never quite get past the sense that Ms. Combs was just–slumming.  Which seemed like such a waste of talent.

Wait a minute–now that the baseball season is over, it’s going to be all-television, all-the-time, for me?  God help us.  On the other hand, there are worse things. 

Of course, if I were one of those smart Washington people, I would be spending most of my time reading books.  Here’s another list.  My own would be considerably more low-brow, but so it goes, when you are not intellectual.  You feel compelled to read this.  (the best 25 cents you’ll ever spend!)  And you kind of can’t wait to get this one, even though you might be better off checking out this, instead. 

This will never stop being funny as hell.  Game on, Holmes!

To put it mildly.  Where to begin?  I could post about seven thousand links–but, I will be merciful, and keep myself to one two three four.

First

Second

Third

Fourth

And maybe I lied, because here’s one more, about The Guy Who Was My Favorite All Year Long.  Please sign him immediately, Theo.  And stay away from The Creepy One.  Please. 

Okay.  Deep breath.  (and, oddly enough, I am going to have so much more free time between now and next April.  Or, actually, until pitchers and catchers report in February.  What will I do with myself?  Oh. Right.  Work.)  I will also feel much less emotional turmoil–although, after tonight, I don’t think Red Sox fans are allowed to complain anymore.  Ever.  We still will, of course, because it’s our nature–but, we really shouldn’t. 

Well, okay, just one more.  Because I am weak. 

And in other news, this was pretty excellent, too.

Moving on now.  The end of the baseball season means that I will spend the next few months obsessing about politics.  For a change.  I’m starting to get the very strong sense that Obama is toast.  Part of me is disappointed, because I really wanted to fall in love with the guy as a candidate, but from the very beginning, it has always seemed as though he’s only running because he thinks he can maybe win the nomination–not because he wants to be the President. 

And we have someone who wants to be the President, and is actually prepared to do the job.  In the best of all possible worlds, I’d like the campaign to be joyful, but after the grim, glum nightmare of the current Administration, I think I’d be quite happy with calm, cool, collected competence.  There’s actually a lot of food for thought in this article, although it’s not exactly cheery.  I’ll back her all the way, though–especially since I think the prospect of Rudy in the White House is absolutely terrifying.

I’m not sure I recommend this novel, but I’m not too proud to admit that I am currently reading it and am reasonably entertained.  However, as soon as this Gerald Ford book is released, I’m going to grab it.

Starting tomorrow, I think I need to begin doing this and this.  Although I do not enjoy exercise for the sake of exercise–predictably, I only enjoy sports activites–it will be a pleasure.

I’m not weeping–but, I’m not singing.  However, if they aren’t going to play well, what can you do?  So be it.  And since my family is a Pure Red Sox family, we have none of this foolishness.  Luckily.

While–as a human being–I feel sorry for this man, if he comes into the game tonight, I’m turning off the television.  Life is much too short to witness horrible sights.  Although I won’t go so far as to say I shouldn’t waste my beautiful mind on such things. 

And Manny is maybe not very bright, either.

But, the team has lots of good young players, the farm system is loaded–if you haven’t already, wait until you see this kid play!–and they have a chance to be extremely competitive for years to come.  Ergo, it’s all good.

And the Patriots are fabulous, so no self-respecting New Englander can really complain.  We’ve had an excellent ride for the past few years.  I hope the ride continues after tonight, but if it doesn’t, que sera, sera.

A testosterone thriller with a female main character is more fun than one with a cliched male lead.

i would like the Red Sox to win tonight, obviously–but, I can’t help wishing even harder for some semblance of world peace, given the terrible attack in Pakistan today.  

But, our Commander in Chief is still relevant.  Whew.