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!

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.

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!

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.

I am not enjoying this campaign cycle.  I am not looking forward to November.  I have actually been surly and a bit short-tempered lately, as a direct result, which is–one likes to think–somewhat out of character.  So, it’s clearly time for a break.

Lucky for me, the Beloved Team can fill the breach!  After the long trip to Japan, the bizarre exhibition games in Los Angeles, and now, games in Oakland and Toronto, I expect the team to be somewhat sluggish out of the gate, but it’s a long season, and many days and nights of fun await one and all.  Recently, I happened to be talking to a Yankees fan (the team also known as The Evil Ones) on the street and was able to say, very kindly, something to the effect of “You all have a nice, little team.  Perhaps one of these years, you will be able to win a pennant again.”  Frankly, it made my day.  Possibly my century.

I saw Stop-Loss, and recommend it, but without wild enthusiasm.  It’s certainly not a great movie–and it might not even be a good one, but it’s a strong, and probably unnecessary, reminder that the situation in Iraq is an absolute disaster, and is almost certainly going to continue to be so for many, many years.  And Joseph Gordon-Levitt has–somewhat to my surprise, since I mostly just associate him with the fluffy, if fun, Third Rock from the Sun–become quite an interesting actor.

For anyone who hasn’t already heard that Joss Whedon has a new show coming out, starring Eliza Dushku, the plot sounds intriguing and I have already begun my official countdown, as I wait for the first episode to air. Ever since Ms. Dushku first swaggered onto the screen as Faith, I’ve been a fan, and am curious to see whether she really does have the untapped range I suspect lurks somewhere inside.

I enjoyed a Del’s Lemonade over the weekend.  It was from a mix, I think, and so, lacked the pieces of fresh lemon a sensible person prefers–but, I was still delighted to drink it.

And life is good when you get to have a traditional New England supper on a Saturday night.  Ours included home-made cole-slaw, with no mayonnaise, of course–since it is well-known among my people that the substance almost always dooms your salad to utter mediocrity.

Yesterday, a pal alerted me to the fact that Drugs are probably Bad.  Be warned!

I want to wake up, and have Al Gore getting ready to finish his second term. We all have health care. The economy continues to operate with a large surplus. The Kyoto Accord has been scrapped–because it wasn’t ambitious enough, and the new treaty is much better. Since we now have independent, renewable sources of energy, Saudi Arabia has lost much of its influence–and the rulers have been forced to start being nicer to women. (of all things!) Saddam is probably still in power, but he’s a completely marginalized loon, and the Gore Administration has been focused on trying to help Israel’s neighbors learn how to co-exist with an actual staunch democracy, and treat other countries in the region as genuine allies.

Many things have happened during the past eight years, but the best part of all is that the World Trade Center is standing right where it always was. It’s still not attractive, but it’s tall, and we’re fond of it, and thousands of people go to work there every day–and come home safely at night.

Sigh.

Instead, we’re living in a nightmare, and increasingly, Democrats are part of the problem. I’m not sure I want to post any links, because even space aliens have been sitting at their dinner tables all week saying, “whoa, this is out of control, when’s Opening Day?” (Side-note: life really is topsy-turvy, because President Bush was pretty funny.)

And James Carville is suddenly the voice of reason. I’m starting to think that we actually are living in a world without shrimp.

My grandmother–a person I miss absolutely every day–used to have a saying, “God don’t love ugly.” Mostly, she said it when my sisters and I quarreled–which was often. And if she were watching this current election campaign, I believe she would have me pour her some more sherry and say, “Honey, let’s put on some stories.” (”Stories,” being soap operas or television dramas.) We would be entertained. We would enjoy snacks. Life would be delightful.

I was watching CNN today, which showed a very lengthy clip of an angry reverend’s sermon, after which, the commentator said–with no sense of irony, “That was given on December 25th, 2007″ or words to that effect. In other words, it was Christmas. Which, within the context of the Christian faith, is generally considered kind of a Happy Day. Instead, the parishioners were bombarded with a stream of invective. I have to say, that is not a church I would attend twice–nor would I buy the CDs/DVDs/whatever, in order to listen to the shouting again at my leisure. (So, it goes without saying that I would not go again and again for twenty years–until, finally, my own personal ambition forced me to take the spiritual mentor from whom I purloined the title of my best-selling book–and throw him under a bus.)

This, of course, after tossing Samantha Power onto the subway tracks, while the other campaign hurled Geraldine Ferraro out of an airplane–and, well, God don’t love ugly. (obviously, insert your own higher-power-of-choice–or no higher power whatsoever–into that statement, to make it fit within your personal belief system.)

Can the grown-ups come out and play now? Are there any grown-ups left?

Here is what I think is going to happen. Senator Obama will be the nominee in November–and he will lose. It won’t be pretty, and if Senator McCain is wily enough to pick Colin Powell or Elizabeth Dole or someone of similar stature as a running mate, it will be an absolute landslide. You can crunch the numbers right and left, but Senator Clinton isn’t going to be able to pull the Democratic nomination out–without half of the Party sitting at home in November and sulking, as they toss their beanbags up and down in the air. I think the smart move would have been for her to pull out quite some time ago, let Senator Obama take the complete blame for the upcoming November debacle, and then learn from her mistakes and run a much better campaign in 2012. But, I’m pretty sure she is going to keep scuffling all the way to Denver–and the end result will be that two potentially fine Presidents are going to crash and burn. There’s something to be said for being a statesman or woman–and I sure as hell haven’t seen one in either campaign lately.

So disappointing. So unnecessary. So incredibly short-sighted, and stupid. The only thing I can say with reasonable certainty is that I have no intention of voting for anyone I do not consider a grown-up. Which puts me in quite a pickle.

All things being equal, I found this site more interesting than anything else I read today–although it is, by no means, cheery.

However, I was here recently, and it was excellent.

And I don’t like the war, but this is cool.

Finally saw Juno. Totally dug it. If I were ever involved with a movie–a scenario I do not anticipate, frankly–I would want Ellen Page to be in it. I am looking forward to seeing Smart People next month.

Which, famously, describes our current President–and, I’m afraid, also describes Senator Obama. Too much hubris, not enough policy details. Or even any. Granted, the left-wing version of the current Administration would be an improvement over the last seven years, but unless McCain picks Huckabee as his running mate and frightens everyone, I think we may be looking at a Republican landslide.

I’m not a huge fan of its author, but this is a good piece.

I am, however, extremely fond of Mr. Krugman.

Everywhere I went on Super Tuesday, I ran into Obama supporters, who were literally running around in circles and screaming “Yes, we can!” with glazed looks in their eyes. At best, it was embarrassing, but it also felt–deranged. I would love to be inspired by a candidate, and feel wildly excited and so forth–but, not to the point of losing reason. Surely, there is something to be said for dignity? Call me crazy, but I want an adult to run the country. A sensible one. In any case, I feel as though lately, life has been one demoralizing defeat after another. (I will not discuss–now or ever–what happened to a team which will go unmentioned until next season. But, I took it hard. There might even have been a bit of weeping involved.)

Apropos of nothing in particular, she continues to be a mysterious, somewhat perplexing figure.

My friend Barbara sent me a very funny card from this site. If you have the right kind of slightly sick sense of humor, I highly recommend it.

For those of us who like photography, this is kind of neat. They’re starting their second series of 100 on Monday.

And, if you were very kindly making up a gift list for me–which is always a delightful idea–please put this at the top. I did not know, until I became a bit of a photography wonk, that one can lust for gear. I am currently saving up for a 300mm 2.8 lens–and expect to be able to afford one in no more than two or three years. Sigh.

If you are sensible enough to be a Battlestar Galactica fan, you will enjoy this. Dark is good. And, I don’t care what anyone says–Anders is wicked handsome.

This makes life worth living.

[Note from the Webmaster: I've closed comments on this one for ease of discussion. Please head on over to the Politics thread on the MB.  Since I'm about to go out of town for the weekend, I've temporarily reconfigured the board so that administrator approval is not required. Everybody have a great weekend and play nice! ]

And if it’s wrong, do I want to be right? Probably not. It’s always good to get a different point of view, and I like to see their perspective on various situations.

Which is the same reason that I read the New York Post. No, that is a lie. This is why I read the New York Post.

In any case, Al Jazeera is often a must-read for me, and from there, I generally head to the BBC, which reported this oddity today. (I saw it elsewhere, also–but, hey, I like the BBC.)

Then, ultimately, I ended up here, which was a short hop to my all-time favorite photo of President Bush.  Be afraid. Be very afraid.  Arguably, though, that one shot sums up the man’s entire Presidency.  (And–it’s not a purse, damn it!)

On my travels, I also came across this article, which I thought was very cool, indeed. Although I suppose the case could be made that it will be even more cool when people no longer write articles about such things. But, it reminded me of this story from last year. And then, suddenly, I ended up here. Oh, goodness me.

So. Is the Internet the biggest time-suck there is in the history of the world, or what?

And, I am sorry to say, Ebay is the Devil’s Tool.

Big game tomorrow night. Wicked big game. Can’t wait.

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.