I look forward to that.
So – Barrack Obama – tasked by a weary nation with cleaning up the White House. Not the first black man in history who’s had that job. I’m so relieved I could spit. It’s been a long one. Giddying. I was up all of Tuesday night. I think it was the scallops. They were reduced, but they smelled sort of ok. They go lilac when they’re cooked, right?
People are saying that a tired Obama looks a good 2 years older now than when he began campaigning, 2 years ago. But he must be feeling energized, and I can’t wait to see what he almost manages to get done. I want to know details. Obama has so much promise but will he fulfil that promise? – and if he does, I want to know exactly how many bullets will strike him, and in which city? Not long now, I guess. But it’s the waiting…
“Obviously I gotta keep out there to a degree. That way this can take off and some real help can happen…”
said Joe the Plumber.
I can’t bear how it’s just plain obvious what he wants to happen. He’s got the exposure. There’s suddenly a “this” for him to want to “take off”. He can see it all ahead of him. He’s got to stay “out there” for “this thing” to happen. And nothing is more monumentally depressing than that he might be right. There might be actually be a “there” for his “thing”.
And if there is, at least then, maybe some real help can happen.