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 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!

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.

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.

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!

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.

You really need to win the first game of a playoff series, especially at home.  So, it is an excellent start.

Speaking of fine beginnings, words fail me insofar as the Other Delightful New England Team is concerned.  The first four games of the season have been simply awesome.

I have been very tired lately–strangely enough, it is not as easy to work all night, and function normally the next day as it once was–and I am ashamed to admit that I have been reading what I think of as “Testosterone Thrillers.”  There are several requirements for this kind of book.  For one thing, there are lots of weapons, endlessly and lovingly detailed to the degree that even Freud would be very, very frightened.  I do not care for violence in any way, shape, or form–but, if this is so, why do I love Hawk?  (Actually, even when he is going through the motions, I think Robert Parker is much too fine a writer to be sledge-hammered into the testosterone thriller category–and I may devote an entire post to him someday soon.)

Anyway, I am pretty sure that authors of testosterone thrillers do all of their research on sites like this.  Their main characters invariably–and hilariously–almost always work for multiple secret government agencies, and are invulnerable in the extreme.  When they get shot, for example, which happens on a regular basis, they find it–a trifle annoying.  The authors’ notes are full of thank yous to people who really ought to be a little more circumspect about how much sensitive information they reveal to writers who are going to go off and publish all of it.  If any of the characters in the books dare to express reservations about, say, the efficacy–and morality–of torture, they are immediately dismissed as unpatriotic weenies, who should possibly be jailed forever, if not killed outright.  (with a cool weapon!)  The heroes of the books know better, and absolutely hate concepts like habeas corpus.  They approve of things like this, and they fail to see the irony of this.  (Oh, John, when–and why–did you become such a lapdog?)  If they saw this or this, they would be outraged, and shout that it was a complete lie–and accuse anyone who suggested otherwise of treason.  They adore the unfettered use of signing statements.  The notion of Congressional oversight makes them sick.  They would censor this.  They have no idea why this photo is scary, but also really funny.

This upsets them horribly, because they think Jack Bauer is sometimes too sensitive.  (Bill, what the hell were you thinking?  And Rudy, what were you thinking?)

A Salon author, Mark Follman, wrote a great piece about the current Administration’s unfailing reliance upon fear.   Personally, I’d rather have our country’s leaders react more like this.

So, what books am I talking about?  Oh, Brad Thor.  Vince Flynn.  W.E.B. Griffin.

And, despite being somewhat ashamed of myself for doing so, why do I read them? 

Because life is short, and they make me giggle.

Yes, it is true.  And so, I may seem wicked boring, because I talk a lot about sports.  Ergo, I think I will write an entire post without mentioning sports at all.  No observations about sports.  No bitter remarks about sports.  Nothing whatsoever, in any way, shape or form about–yes, you guessed it–sports.

Even though, today I found out that the New England Patrio–no.  I will be strong.  And I will not discuss sports.  At all.

I have been reading God’s Harvard, even though parts of it have made me wake up screaming in the night.  No, wait, I have actually been sleeping poorly because the god-damn Red So–oops!  I almost slipped there, but recovered just in time.  Whew.  Anyway, here’s an interesting exchange about the book between the author and a columnist.  I am, I confess, something of a secular humanist, and if you say the word “religion” to me, I picture this and this.  Which makes me horribly one-dimensional, and–dare I say it–close-minded.  So, I would rather imagine this, or, perhaps, this.  Or this, which I adore.  Also, I found this book very sensible, although I don’t necessarily agree with everything Mr. Wallis believes.  But I respect the fact that he wants to talk about these issues in an inclusive sort of way.

Now, some people might argue than it is a religion to root for the Boston Red S–goodness me!  I almost did it again!  My bad.

Only a very shallow person would be eager to see this, and I also can’t wait for this new show, about which I hear excellent things.  Plus, the very under-rated Molly Price is in it, which is more than enough reason to tune in, if you ask me.  I think it was highway robbery that she never won an Emmy for playing Faith Yokas.  She may be the only actress in the history of network television who ever had the nerve to shun vanity, and look and act like a real cop–with the exception of Betty Thomas, on my beloved Hill Street Blues.  I hope that entire series is released soon, but you can get the first two seasons, at least.

Sharing the details of one’s meals is the height of banality, no doubt, but I went out to a Sri Lankan restaurant tonight (I am normally quite prompt, but I was disgracefully late to meet my pal–who was very kind about my social faux pas), and among other dishes, we had this, and it was completely excellent.  In fact, I think I will cook up a batch of my own tomorrow, although I will probably add extra onions, and maybe–because I’m wacky and bold and have no respect for authenticity or rules–a chipotle pepper or two.

If you want a giggle, check this, or maybe this, out.  (Full disclosure:  my sister is Juliana McKannis.)

And, this still cracks me up, too.

So, when the hell does Melinda Doolittle’s first CD come out, anyway?

I am a huge fan of Elaine May, both as a writer–and as a genuinely hilarious actress.  But, strangely, almost no one ever talks about what I consider one of her two best movies, In the Spirit.  Or, maybe this is not strange, since despite the fact I have been recommending this movie to people for years, I only know two other people on the planet who love it–and they happen to be my parents.  But, what can I tell you–we laugh our heads off every time we see it.  I’m not sure even how to begin to describe the story, but it captures a wonderfully accurate version of my adored New York City, and explores female friendship, and Melanie Griffith gives her best performance ever in a tiny cameo–well, shoot, if you can find a copy, grab it and run.  (Unless it’s my copy, upon which, I will chase you down.)

 I may frighten off anyone who happened to read this when I say that Marlo Thomas is Ms. May’s co-star in this movie, but she is also extremely funny in this film–and, well, it’s in my top five favorite movies of all time, I think.  Since it was something of a commercial flop, it’s pretty hard to find, but you could always try here.  I don’t think they have issued a DVD yet, but boy, I hope they do.  I remember seeing this movie with a close friend the night it opened in Boston, and the theatre was pretty much sold out–and several hundred people were grimly silent for the next hour and forty minutes, and one person (yes, that would be me) cracked up the entire time–to the point that people stared and pointed and made snide and cruel remarks about said unfortunate person.  My friend hated it so much that I was afraid she might stop speaking to me forever, but luckily, we are still good pals.

 If you can’t find In the Spirit, another overlooked gem is Elaine May’s star turn with Walter Matthau, in A New Leaf , back in 1971.  This one is also tough to find, although you might luck out on Ebay, or one of my favorite sites, Half.com, or you could try this.

I gather Elaine May is not everyone’s cup of tea, but when I was a child, my mother used to play her Nichols & May records all the time (and if you can find one of those in CD format, let me know, and I’ll buy it from you immediately), and so, I was brainwashed to like her from a very early age.  My mother also got me hooked on the deadpan brilliance of Bob Newhart, particularly this famous comedy set.

And another oddball movie I adore–which also seems to annoy most people who see it–is the very sadly obscure Hot Millions, starring Maggie Smith and Peter Ustinov, with Mr. Newhart showing up in a small, but pivotal, role as a smarmy, annoying–and delightful–character.

Maggie Smith has, of course, never given anything but a brilliant performance in her entire life, and as British actors go, is second in my affections only to the positively incomparable Diana Rigg as Emma Peel.

I love Emma Peel almost as much as I love The Team That Makes Me Crazy.