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.

It’s hard to take the Iowa Caucus seriously, because it’s so random and idiosyncratic. A victory probably only means something, if the candidate comes out of nowhere–which seems highly unlikely in this perpetually media-saturated election cycle. Huckabee is a possbility, but at this point, that doesn’t seem that unexpected anymore. (Novak says,Huckabee ‘clearly departs from the mainstream of the conservative movement in his confusion of “growth” with “greed,”‘ which makes me wonder whether he’s more worried about his stock portfolio than anything else.) I love politics–but, I have to admit, I’m getting sort of tired of this endless horse race. Even this news made me say, okay, whatever, it’s about time.

But, this article–and the show itself–both made me giggle. The whole thing was, for lack of a better phrase, pointlessness-squared. This, however, made me sad–and, like many of us, I wasted some time mired in what-might-have-been. (Personally, I think Lower Manhattan would still be intact.) In any case, this article–while quite long, and probably very old news–is still well worth reading, and the follow-up is, too.

I’m not sure if this should have offended me–but, it did.

On a more cheery note, the Patriots hung on for a tough win yesterday. Which is good, because NFL games shouldn’t be easy.

Razor finally aired this weekend, but alas, it will be many months before we will be able to see another new Battlestar episode. Until then, I will have to speculate and natter on, with others of my kind, at this entertaining site.

Sometimes, I think I would very much like to pursue another career, so this caught my attention. I wonder if British citizenship is required.

I woke up very upset this morning, because I dreamed–in detail–that the Cleveland Indians had won the pennant, not Boston.  And I kept saying, “No, no, I was there. I know the Red Sox won.” And they (no, I don’t know who “they” were, but they were mean) kept looking at me with pity, and explaining that I had not, in fact, been at Games 6 & 7, and that the Red Sox had gone down in defeat.

It was quite dislocating, but I’m certain I was sitting in Fenway Park this weekend–mostly, in remarkably good seats. 

Exhibit A (sadly lacking the needed 2.8 aperture):

Exhibit B:

I can also attest to the fact that Greyhound buses are not particularly comfortable, and sometimes, people who ride on them overnight spend the next couple of days hunched over with unpleasant lower back spasms.

Is there something wrong with me if I think this is kind of weird?  Maybe it’s just as well that I didn’t move to Denver some years back, with the notion that I would ski every single possible day.  (I actually really like the area, and considered relocating quite seriously.)

And that I found this somewhat unsettling, too?  Possibly because, in almost every single case, the woman in question would be a better candidate than her husband. 

The Denver Post asks a pretty good question here.  I don’t know the answer.  Although this is kind of encouraging, and this is, too.  While I find this annoying.  And cloying.

I used to live in California.  I am very fond of California.  Let’s hope the winds finally stop blowing.  Scary stuff.