OK, I've wound down enough from the high of the Road Trip and getting the 1RivrDaughter's post-surgical recovery off to a good start, so it's time to get back into the slog of the election campaign.
When I left off a month or so ago, Obama was leading and Hillary was being urged to leave the race. Today's status is that Obama is leading and Hillary is being urged to leave the race. I must have Rip Van Winkled, hmmm.
Folks, this is Politics 101. If Obama can keep the Hildebeeste in the fight, people will watch that fight and NOT expect him to be dueling national issues with McCain. This gives the Empty Suit a while longer to have his political bona fides only guessed at, and not revealed to be as lacking as they are. It also means that the press will concentrate on Obama v. Clinton, and will ignore anything that McCain brings up, so that the Stupid Party candidate gets only whatever momentum he can generate with his own campaigning, and none from the media.
So, what DID happen while I was pounding the Interstates and squeezing the trigger for fun and practice? Obama had a Wright moment, but did not learn to fly, and Clinton tried to paint herself as a war veteran, and THAT didn't fly, either. There you have it. the "Cliff's Notes" of punditry right here, for free.
Also on a political note, Al Gore seems to have disappeared, his GloBull Warming Death Cult buried in epic snowbanks almost everywhere north of 35 degrees of north latitude. The snow is a major PITA (it snowed here in Stumptown Friday, the latest recorded snowfall in 57 years), but it may just convince enough people not to follow the GWDC and Pope AlGore into the abyss of world Socialism, thereby being worth every back-breaking flake of the longest shoveling season in our lifetimes.
We note with regret the passing of a REAL journalist, Dith Pran, whose expose of the Pol Pot regime and the Khmer Rouge communists forever changed our perceptions of ugly little communist countries, and now there are only a handful of such regimes left, and even those seem to be lightening their grip on all their subjects' throats. The man's writings may have saved millions.
Now, go enjoy your Sunday brunch, and if the weather is nice, put on your white linen suit and find a Bocci Ball pitch.