Right now, that would be my preference. I won’t do it, because–in my opinion–only a weenie votes “Present,” but it certainly feels like a tempting choice.

Senator’s Obama’s speech this week was, for the most part, quite good. I don’t think it reinvented the wheel, but it was effective, and occasionally ambitious. A solid single, which a brave soul could probably stretch into a double–but, it wasn’t a home-run. (Mind you, no one else has even been stepping up to the plate, forget connecting with the ball, so some significant credit is definitely due.) A home-run requires an act of political courage–not a hasty, if well-written, response to intense media pressure. The same sort of speech could, and should, have been given months ago, simply because it was the right thing to do, and not because a cranky reverend popped off a few too many times. If one is going to be a visionary leader, it’s not enough to have vision–you also must lead.

A grand-slam home-run is when the speech is not only completely voluntary, but also–dare I say it–full of genuine audacity, scope, and risk. Risk is a major component of world-class political oratory, which simply doesn’t exist when one is carefully preserving one’s campaign, while preaching to the eager-to-be-converted. (It is good that many, many people want to change the way the United States operates, but political expediency is still political expediency.) A walk-off grand-slam home-run is when the speech is entirely extemporaneous, and in immediate response to a terrible crisis. Robert F. Kennedy, addressing Dr. King’s tragic murder comes to mind. A speech which is mostly given to further one’s own personal fortunes–even a very good one–simply doesn’t belong anywhere in the same category.

It was fine. It was intelligent. It was a nice start. I hope he sent his grandmother some flowers.

I also kind of think that a true leader isn’t afraid to roll the dice and have Michigan and Florida re-vote.

How swell it would be if Senator Clinton suddenly spoke–out of the blue, at length, and from the heart–about gender. However, if she did, I suspect she would be pilloried by one and all, for being a less gifted speaker, and for discussing a subject the media has long since made clear that it considers entirely unimportant. And, unfortunately, it would smack of “me, too!”, and she would be accused of political opportunism. It probably would be opportunistic, but that wouldn’t make it wrong, or irrelevant.

It is very clear that the Democratic Party is not going to allow any scenario which would result in her receiving the nomination. Superdelegates will not be permitted to fulfill their duties–unless, of course, they are named–oh, say–Governor Bill Richardson, or the increasingly transparent Nancy Pelosi. (Senator Clinton won New Mexico and California, which means that the will of the People in those two states was for her to–oh, never mind. The rules aren’t allowed to be changed in the middle of the game–except for when they are changed in the middle of the game. I sense that the Party specifically wants Speaker Pelosi to land the fatal blow, in the end, to make it appear slightly more palatable. Very slightly.)

Senator Clinton is going to lose. It stinks, but there it is. It’s partially her fault, for not running a tighter, smarter, bolder campaign–but, even though I remain convinced that she is a much stronger general election candidate, and would be a far superior President, it’s just not going to happen. If Senator Obama keeps stumbling regularly, and it appears as though she really still might have a chance, I assume that former President Carter, or Al Gore, will grab the ax from Speaker Pelosi and forcefully end the campaign for good.

Which will mean that pretty much all Senator McCain has to do to cruise to the Presidency is–stay awake. And not pick a total loon as his Vice-President.

If I were Senator Clinton’s pal, I’d tell her to pull out. They’re not going to let her win, even if she takes the popular vote, so there’s nothing to gain. And I would be willing to bet a great deal of money I don’t have, that in November, when Senator Obama turns out to be Professor Harold Hill, without the deus ex machina, Hilary will be the one who gets blamed. So, she should be wily, and tough–and fall on her sword.

I think she should sit down with the Powers That Be in a back room, and say, “I can win without him, but he can’t win without me, so here’s how it’s going to go.” (His supporters–as is invariably true during Democratic primary seasons–tend to be on the most liberal side of the Party, and won’t defect to Senator McCain; a certain percentage of her supporters will.)

Although, obviously, this is the gift which keeps on giving.

Anyway, in exchange for her warm, whole-hearted support throughout the fall campaign, Senator Clinton’s minimum price should be Senate Majority Leader or, possibly, the next seat on the Supreme Court. And, among other things, she should also insist that he re-think his health-care plan, and require a mandate–because it doesn’t have a shot in hell of working, otherwise. In addition, Senator Obama should be required to praise her–in public, even!–for putting the Party first, against her better interests, and he needs to sound a whole lot better than this. (Yes, for anyone keeping score at home, I thought Senator Obama was making an ill-advised, premature run before he even declared, but that was one of several moments which has helped to reinforce my gut feeling that, inclusive rhetoric aside, he is not a very nice person–and, as I have said before, is actually just a left-wing, eloquent version of President Bush.)

It’s not the way I wanted to see the path to the Democratic nomination end, and I dread November, but I’m afraid that all that is really left for Senator Clinton’s campaign is a salvage operation.

On a more cheery note, this is fun.

And I wish I could do this.

Maybe I will go eat some of these.

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!

–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.

I was walking my dog tonight, and I suddenly realized that I could hear a strange sound.  Singing.  Me.  Aloud.  Right there on the street. 

Although I do not wish for anyone to be unhappy because of the performance, or lack thereof, of a sports team, could it be that I was singing–because the Yankees lost?  Well, yes.  In fact, all things being equal, I must confess that the night air also rang with my merry peals of laughter.

What, you may ask, was I singing?  My Favorite Things.  Kind of goes without saying, don’t you think?

I continued to sing–literally–for several hours, whilst doing long overdue chores.  Mostly Rodgers & Hammerstein, as is my wont, on the rare occasions when I overcome my own coolness and embrace spontaneity.  I sang this and this, and even this.  It was appalling.  But, I am still wide-awake, so may go for this next, or else try to find my copy of the book upon which the musical is based.  Or maybe, I’ll just laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

However, I like Joe Torre.  I hope Mr. Steinbrenner doesn’t over-react.

Rudy is probably pretty grumpy tonight.  (I’m sorry, though–I’m still not buying this.  I’m just not.)  However, Rudy should be happy, because–for no clear reason–he continues to be the front-runner for the Republican nomination.  This is very good news for the Democrats, because I actually think the only serious GOP threat is this guy, despite the fact that I’m not sure he’s even polling in the single digits.  I despise almost every single one of his positions, but you know, it’s awfully hard not to like the man.  Fortunately, the Republican Party has not caught on to this simple reality yet. 

And, in other old news, Joe Biden is absolutely terrible at campaigning, and therefore, unelectable, but he might a pretty good President.  Too bad.

I have a sinking feeling that I may spend what remains of the evening singing this.  Well, there are worse ways to spend one’s free time.

Literally millions of us love them–and they don’t love us back.   In fact, mostly, I’m pretty sure they don’t even like us.  (warning, that last link contains extreme profanity.  Appropriate to the situation, but be forewarned, in case you have a delicate nature.)

This rejection of our love is a cruel truth, but a truth, nevertheless.  I may have to spend the entire night (I surely will not be sleeping peacefully), listening to this.  Or, it might be nice to have Fraulein Maria show up and sing something comforting.

Not that I’m feeling, you know, bitter or anything, after spending the weekend in Baltimore.  I did, at least, enjoy a delicious Cobb salad this afternoon, so, all was not lost. 

Since I am now thinking about jazz, it goes without saying I love Mr. Coltrane, but for my money, this is The Guy.  You can scarcely go wrong with any of his albums, but this is a good place to start.  Especially Skylark, which is wonderful in any form, but Jug’s version is almost as good as the one by The Honest and True Queen of All Music on the Johnny Mercer Songbook.  I had the tremendous good fortune to see what happened to be her very last concert at Radio City, and despite the fact that she had to be helped out onto the stage, and we were near the back of the highest balcony, it was absolutely excellent.  Her performance of “Night in Tunisia” (a song I love so much I once used it in a book) is something I genuinely won’t ever forget. 

There was an elderly woman, dressed in her Sunday best, sitting next to us, and she literally spent the entire concert with her hands clasped together and with so much joy on her face, that everyone who saw her smiled, too.  The whole time.  During the intermission, she told me she had been saving up for her ticket for weeks, and that the last time she had seen Ms. Fitzgerald sing in person had been–in the 1930s, at the Apollo.  Wow.  How cool is that?! 

And if this leads you to believe that I was standing a few feet from the Oval Office on Saturday morning, that is because I was.  However, I feel confident in saying that this fact will lead to no policy changes whatsoever.