The Real Independence Day

Independence Day is July 4 because that's when the Declaration of Independence was signed and the colonies broke off from Great Britain, right? Wrong. On July 2, 1776, the Second Continental Congress voted to approve a resolution of independence that had been introduced in June. "The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival," John Adams wrote to his wife Abigail. "It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more." As usual, Adams was mostly correct, but a little off.

The Declaration had been written as a way of explaining the vote for independence to colonists and British alike. Congress spent the next two days debating and revising the Declaration, finally approving it on July 4. But they didn't sign it then. Most delegates didn't sign the document until August 2. More importantly, the Declaration is an explanation and an explanation only. The radical thing was the approval of the initial resolution.

In short, today is the real Independence Day. Go ahead, be pedantic about it: start eating and drinking two days early. It's the patriotic thing to do.

Notes from the Electoral Preschool

Another election day has ended, and with it my month of popularity. I will miss the hourly phone calls from my new friends. How will I get through the day without hearing their tinny voices droning, "This is Doobie Frankenwaller reminding you to vote for me for County District Circuit Court Constable"? I will also miss my new friends' mothers, who checked in with me regularly to intone, "Please vote for my gorgeous little boy for Township Sewer Checker, he's such a good little boy." But like everyone I shall soldier on, taking with me the political lessons learned from this political season.

For example, I've realized that there really are only two possible platforms, no matter what office is being sought. The upstart, the candidate seeking office for the first time, will say, "Change. Change. Change. New leadership. Throw out the bums, we can do better!" Once the upstart has been in office, his or her relection platform will be, "Experience! What we need now is experience! I have experience and my opponent is just an upstart."

No one ever seems to notice the falseness of this dichotomy. If the main qualification for being elected to office is having previously held office then we could just cancel elections and allow incumbents to stay in place for life. On the other hand, changing the person holding office does not change the nature of the office itself, nor does it change the political system nor the power structure. "Change" is just shorthand for "Me, not the other guy." We can vote out each and every incumbent member of the US Congress and would still wake up the next day with the US Congress. Only the nameplates would change.

I also learned that there really is no convincing people of the importance of municipal primaries. Without Congressional, Senatorial, or Presidential candidates on the ballot, very few will take two minutes out of their day in order to vote. Although this says something sad about the state of participatory democracy, it does turn a visit to the polls into a party. I'm guessing that about 250 people voted in my entire ward. I probably know 245 of them, and got to catch up with many of my neighbors after casting my ballot. A low turnout also turns district races into nail biters, where a 10-vote lead with one precinct reporting can be insurrmountable.

When it's all said and done, it's all said and done. My irises are about to bloom, which means it's time for everyone to pack up their yard signs and stick them in the basement until November, and, most importantly, it's safe to answer my phone.

Over and Done With

Of course I couldn't help myself last night and I gave another 14 minutes of my life to the Bush presidency, watching his weird smirky face say farewell to the nation. His speech was exactly as I expected. What I find off is the number of pundits and commentators who are annoyed if not downright angry that the guy has spent that last couple of weeks spinning his time in office as a success when we all know it was an abject failure. What on earth did anyone expect?

Should Bush have said, "I tricked the nation into a war it didn't need, at tremendous human and monetary cost. I was wrong"? Should he have said, "My policies let the rich prosper and wrecked the economy. Oh well"? And should he have concluded with, "I have successfully destroyed the environment as well as scientific research, or at least have removed the role of the government in the promotion of scientific and rational thought"? No way he was going to say any of that.

We got the guy we elected, and he behaved the way we should have expected him to behave. More than that, we elect presidents to lead, to be certain, to be calm, to give us direction. Bush may have led in the wrong direction, but it was his direction, and he did lead us there. When he says that he's proudest of "making the tough decisions" I think this is exactly what he means. At this point very few agree with him, but he remained who he was. He did what he set out to do, no matter how disastrous the outcome. Good riddance to him, but I don't see why we should expect an apology. He's only ever been himself.

History will judge the past eight years. I have little doubt history will not vindicate him, but the one way he's right is in leaving the judgement to the future. In the meantime, we're thankfully moving on, and it's time to get ready for Tuesday. Time to break out the Obama yo-yos, commemorative thongs, onesies, Franklin Mint coins, and plates decorated with the Electoral College vote. If nothing else, at least the kitsch-fueled sector of our economy is working again.

Election Day Fun Facts

Long lines at the polls are predicted for this Election Day, which can certainly be a pain. Waiting in line is really nothing compared to what Americans once had to go through in order to cast a ballot, though. Perusing the history of Presidential elections is enough to make one happy to be voting in 2008 rather than 1808.

We elect Presidents on the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November. Why? you ask. Well, we originally didn't vote for the President, but for the electors who chose the President. We still do this in that the popular vote determines who will make up the Electoral College, but originally those electors weren't pledged to any candidate. Presidential candidates' names didn't even appear on the ballot. On the one hand we didn't have a deluge of yard signs, robocalls, and advertising before elections, but on the other hand Presidents weren't exactly elected by the people. Back then Senators also weren't directly elected; they were appointed.

Anyway, states held elections any time they wanted, so long as the electors could make it to the capitol by December 3, the date they would choose the President. Because travel could take a while by horse or carriage, elections took place any time between mid-October and mid-November. Sometimes electors had trouble making it to the capitol in time, though, so it was decided to choose one national Election Day. Early November seemed best because the harvest was over then (remember those good old agrarian days?) and the electors would have a month or so to get to Philly or, later, DC. The white men of property (expanding suffrage is the real hallmark of our electoral history, but I'm not going to go into that here) needed to travel to get to the polling place to vote on electors. In those days caucusing or balloting took place in cities, towns, county seats, and everyone lived on farms, sometimes a day away. So, Monday was no good, because you'd have to travel on the Sabbath to arrive by Monday, and Wednesday was market day, when people needed to be in town but were busy selling and trading. Tuesday was deemed the least disruptive day to hold elections. National elections originally took place the first Tuesday in November, but then one year that fell on November 1 and everyone complained it was too early, so it was changed so that elections could never fall on November 1. Now November 2 is the earliest possible date, November 8 the latest.

It used to be that we voted by voice, yea or nay, or by throwing colored rocks or beans in a pot, yellow for Thomas, blue for Silas, etc. Those beans were a pain to count, though, and in lean years maybe even a waste of beans. In the meantime political parties had come to prominence (George Washington and John Adams actually had no party affiliation), and the system of direct election of people rather than electors had been devised. When you're voting for people for a bunch of offices beans become too complex, so the paper ballot made the most sense.

In order for the white men to vote, they had to bring a ballot with them. In other words, no ballots were provided by the government or local board of elections. By now pretty much all white men could vote, but not all of them could read. That didn't matter, since pre-printed ballots were provided by the political parties. You could also cut them out of the newspaper, if you could read and afford a newspaper, but why bother when the Whigs or Know-Nothings or Democrat-Republicans were happy to give you your already completed ballot? These were ususally printed on long and narrow pieces of paper and were commonly referred to as "tickets," and this is where the phrase "party ticket" was born.

Once someone gave you your ballot you had to get it to the Judge of Elections. Actually, I should rephrase that: Once someone gave you a stack of ballots, you had to get them to the Judge of Elections. Yes, you could hand in as many ballots as you could carry. This was the nineteenth century version of "absentee voting." Handing in the ballots was probably easier said than done.

The "polls" then consisted of a room where the Judge collected ballots. Voters weren't allowed in the room, however, in an attempt to ensure the integrity of the process. Probably also because many of the voters were blind drunk, but I'll get to that in a minute. One had to pass ballots to the judge through a window or a slot. To get to said slot or window, one had to make one's way through a throng of people milling around, attempting to prevent ballots of one party or another from being cast. The whole process resembled a violent video game come to life: Grand Theft Voting. Fights, even riots, were common on Election Days of yore.

The fact that votes were routinely purchased with liquor undoubtedly had a lot to do with this. Party bosses would hand out ballots in the back room of saloons. Anyone willing to cast a ballot would be treated to some rum, ale, whatever drink was at hand. Anyone willing to mill around and prevent the other guy's ballots from being cast could also expect a free drunk that day. Yes, I'm primarily talking about cities here, but farmers also enjoyed a drink or two while visiting the county seat. Election day violence, and bribery with alcohol, were one of the arguments for Prohibition in the first place, and were the reason that bars remained closed on Election Day even at Prohibition's end.

In short, we've come a long way, even if every once in a while an election hinges on a hanging chad or two. So go vote - the worst that will happen is a wait in line - and then go drink, because come tonight you'll be either happy or sad, or a little of both, and this long exhausting process will finally be over, and, most importantly, the bars will be open.

Homestretch

I don't even know what to say. Stocks are sinking even lower, my savings are disappearing, I'm unemployed, and Mad Men is now over, not to be seen again until at least next summer. The one ray of brightness in all this is that the election is now just over a week away and the commercials can finally stop. For some reason Pennsylvania is considered a "swing" state. Yes, PA was traditionally Democrat, and yes, PA went for Reagan and the first Bush, but so did pretty much the rest of the country. PA hasn't gone for the Republican Presidential nominee since 1988. That's 20 years. So can everyone stop running the annoying commercials already?

I also wish campaigns would stop wasting their money by calling me, either through robocalls or volunteers, reminding me of when the election is and that I need to vote. I'm a super-voter; I've voted in every election, both primary and general, for at least 15 years. In other words, I don't need to be reminded. I will vote. Leave me alone.

Because I'm one of those people who always votes, campaigns can safely assume that I keep up with the issues and know who I'm going to vote for. They don't need to leave me fake voicemails from the candidates telling me where they "stand" and how awful their opponent is. Wouldn't the time and effort (or at least the money, since these calls are automated and require very little human time or effort) be better spent reaching out to people who don't automatically vote all the time? No one needs to "get out" my vote. I get it out myself, twice a year, and not only do I not require help, I resent having my day interrupted to field a fake phone call from a politician.

I've never been as thankful for DVR as the past month, but once in a while I watch live TV. Say, during the debates, or the nightly news, or a sporting event. I long for the days when I was annoyed at ads for cars and trucks and automobile insurance. I understand that the Obama campaign has raised a ton of money and is in the process of spending it, but I can't wait until the last time I'm forced to sit through the "We can't afford John McCain" spot. I get it already - now leave me alone.

I've often wondered, the past few weeks, if the total amount spent on campaigning for all offices in 2008 - President, Congress, statehouse, each and every office, in both the primaries and general election - were added together, how large would that number be? What if all that money had been used to, I don't know, lower the national debt? Buy up stocks to try to stem the market slide? Help prevent foreclosure? Help the poor have food and shelter? What if we had real campaign reform and stopped wasting all this money?

Maybe the founding fathers had it right. Back then, candidates didn't campaign. They waited at home while their supporters traveled around making their case. They didn't have yard signs, or robocalls. They didn't spend hundreds of millions of dollars of other people's money. I wouldn't want to go back to the days when only white men who own land can vote, but I wouldn't mind going back to a time before the quadrennial onslaught of sound bites.

On the Road

Spend a weekend on your college campus, act 18 again. It happens every time. I'm still recuperating. The main way I felt 18 again was being completely cut off from the rest of the world for over 48 hours: no internet, no TV, no newspapers. I didn't see the debate, nor hear any of the incessant recaps of it. Paul Newman died? What do you know. The Northeast was drenched? Huh. It's hard, now, to believe I spent four years living in such a bubble.

An interesting offshoot of my trip was that I drove smack through the middle of Virginia, the last leg on back roads filled with campaign signs. I'm not sure what yard signs tell you, not sure how effective an indicator they are as to what will happen in November. However, the placement of a yard sign does indicate effort and dedication on the part of the person who placed the sign, and in that sense display the sentiments of at least one voter.

Rural Central Virginia must trend Republican these days. However, I feel comfortable predicting that Mark Warner will win his Senate race. Based on yard signs, the guy doesn't even have an opponent. Warner signs proliferated, yet I didn't see a single indication that there is a Republican nominee running against him. Some properties even featured both McCain and Warner signs, which was to me the real indicator that this particular race is over.

Based on signage, the Presidential race is harder to call. Crossing the Blue Ridge Mountains on Routes 151 and 6, through Afton, Rockfish Gap, and Nelson County, McCain/Palin definitely dominated. On the other hand, it would appear that the Obama campaign lacks an office in this part of the state, because I passed a number of hand-made Obama signs. Yes, hand-made, a true indicator of dedication. One sign, ok, but on the trip back I counted: 15 such signs on a 35-mile stretch of road.

Once I got to Route 29, a major north/south state highway, Obama took the lead in signage. McCain still had supporters, but the majority of yards sported signs promoting the entire Democratic ticket for that part of the state: Obama, Warner, and the Congressional candidate whose last name begins with a "P" (sorry, I was driving, I couldn't write it down).

Conclusions? It could be that the Obama campaign is correct in believing that Virginia is in play. It could also be that, in the end, yard signs along state highways only mean that a couple of crazy partisans went driving around in a pick-up one night, drinking beer and illegally posting. My main conclusion is that this remains perhaps the most interesting Presidential race in recent memory. And that it's a bad idea for an early middle-aged woman to party like an 18 year-old.

Campaign Blues

Are you tired of the election yet? I'm getting there. I'm tired of the way this thing has degenerated. Everything that can go wrong in this country has gone wrong. Everything costs more, while wages have barely, if at all, kept up. The federal government has decided to prop up Wall Street, while struggling homeowners are left hanging. The situation in Afghanistan continues to deteriorate and no one notices. And the candidates spend more time arguing about who represents "real" change than they do presenting "real" solutions.

I'm tired of Sarah Palin and chatter about pit bulls and lipstick. I'm tired of the word "maverick." I'm also tired of "hope," because the longer this goes on, the less hope I have. I do have one hope: to never again hear the phrase "red meat." Shut up, Keith Olbermann. I'm tired, most of all, of you and all the rest of the pundits who live with you in punditville.

It would take so little to please me. All I want is to hear some honest discussion about the actual issues that we face, and to hear some honest debate about proposed solutions to those issues. I'm not sure this will happen between now and November, not even at the "debates," which, like the rest of the campaigns, are likely to become more about style than they are about substance. What substance can be presented in highly vetted, two-minute long sound bites? Don't the candidates, and I mean all of them, not just the Presidential candidates but also Congressional, statehouse, even candidates for coroner and dogcatcher, don't they understand that voters are worried about the real state of our nation and not about which party controls which body of government?

But of course I won't be able to help myself. I'll continue reading the coverage every morning, I'll watch the debates, I'll continue to be in a state of agitation until it's all over and then I'll vow, as I do every four years, to not care so much next time, to become sanguine, to let democracy take its course, no matter how I feel about the course it is taking. After all, I only have one vote. I'll cast it, as always, and "hope" for the best.

Edited to Add...

8. I can use a teleprompter, too.

Palin did a good job delivering a good speech that some good speechwriter produced for her. Then again, I'm not surprised that an ex-sportscaster read her lines correctly. Expectations for her were so low she was bound to end up impressing, and she definitely succeeded in energizing the faithful gathered in the Twin Cities. She didn't win me over, even though she was wearing separates. I spent most of the speech marveling at how much she looked like Tina Fey, and then feeling sorry for Tina Fey, and then wishing that Tina Fey were still on SNL so I could see Tina Fey impersonating Palin.

I spent just as much time thinking about the set dressing and how it must have been planned as a stark contrast to last week's gathering in Denver. Most noticable was the preponderance of "hand-made" signs, giving a down home, grassroots feel to the orchestrated propoganda. Everything about the set was anti-slick, and meant to stand in contrast to the well–oiled image machine that was the DNC. While Palin spoke a slide show of national monuments played behind her in a continuous loop, the symbolic Greek columns that backed Obama replaced with specific images that signify nothing other than "America". "We're the party of just folks," it all intimated, "Those other guys are all high falutin. We're just a bunch of hockey moms who stayed up all night making signs with Travis Jr.'s finger paints."

One final thought: the child with Down's syndrome felt like a prop, handed off from Cindy McCain to First Dude to youngest daughter. I really hope this stops.

The Campaign that Could Have Been

The more I think about McCain's Vice-Presidential pick, the more I'm convinced that a golden opportunity has been wasted. If he had been aware of my utter lack of qualifications I feel certain that he would have made me his running mate. Palin's no heavyweight, but I've got her underweighted. Here, a small synopsis of what I could have brought to the ticket:

1. Never having served as a mayor or governor, I have even less experience than Palin, and in that sense am even more of a Washington outsider. Who better to lead the Senate, or to take over the reigns once Paw-Paw kicks the bucket, than someone whose entire knowledge of foreign policy and national affairs comes from the New York Times?

2. I'm unmarried and childless, and my pets have both been neutered. No tricky pregnancies in my closets! Plus, my dog loves shaking and kissing babies, which is much better on the campaign trail than a surly, knocked-up teenager.

3. I'm not a Republican and I don't even like McCain. What a bold choice I would have made! Who but a bipartisan maverick would choose a random woman from Pennsylvania (a swing state, mind you) who has never voted for a Republican for President as his running mate? Who needs the Republican base? I can bring in a better base because

4. My breasts are bigger than Palin's.

5. I'm currently "between jobs." As such, I understand the economic pain of the American people. Palin already has a job. I also need the generous health insurance Congress provides to itself and to the administration. If elected, one more American will be insured. Adding me to the ticket would therefore demonstrate McCain's dedication to reducing unemployment and expanding healthcare. These items can then be removed from the platform.

6. I'm Jewish, and taller than Joe Lieberman. I also don't have a wife named "Hadassah." I can pass.

7. As a strong, independent woman, the words "pants suit" have never crossed my lips. I'm the post-Hillary woman, not afraid to campaign in separates.

Maybe it's not too late. Read my blog, John McCain, and pick me. I really am the better choice.

Talk, Talk, Talk, Talk, Talk

To spend two solid nights flipping between coverage of the US Open and the Democratic National Convention is to spend two solid nights watching a little bit of action and listening to a whole lot of commentary. Prime time early round matches tend to the boring, pitting top players against unheralded qualifiers, so I'm used to opinion trumping actual tennis during the first week of a Grand Slam event. It's been a while since I've watched more than a few minutes of a party convention, though, so I'm not used to half an hour of speechifying surrounded by what feels like hours of punditry.

In the hours leading up to Hillary's speech last night very little happened other than incessant discussion of what she "needed to accomplish" with said speech. I saw the last quarter of Casey's address and most of Warner's keynote, and am not surprised that most of the delegates who were actually in the hall were more interested in dancing, jumping up and down, and hugging each other than they were in listening. Both speeches were simultaneously vague and redundant: time for change, Democrats are great, let's create "green collar" jobs, let's all vote for Barak Obama. What else is there to say, given the fact that the platform was drafted before the convention, given the fact that the covention's outcome, a nominee for President and Vice President, has been predetermined?

The only intrigue, the only plot point, was what Hillary would say, and how effectively she'd say it, and even the first half of this "plot" was something manufactured so that the pundits would have something to talk about for the four hours leading up to her address. Of course she was going to support Obama and exhort her supporters to do the same. Of course she was going to emphasize "unity." Politically, what other options did she have? But just as she emphasized the need for the party to keep going, the pundits needed something to keep them going, hence the hours of idle speculation that led nowhere.

I suppose her address could have been as much of a letdown as Venus Williams' first round opponent, although given the fact that she followed a series of benign speeches given by mediocre public speakers she was able to shine with relative ease. It wasn't just that her text was very well-written, or that she's just more dynamic than Mark Warner, it's that the entirety of the proceedings that led up to her address were just plain boring. Halfway through her address I found myself feeling happy for Pat Buchannan, et. al.: finally, something real for them to talk about.

Perhaps tonight will provide more entertainment the whole way through. Roddick takes on Santoro over at the Open, while Bill Clinton takes on Bill Clinton in Denver. The trick to making it though, I think, is the mute button.

Happy Birthday, Nation

Independence from England was declared on July 2, 1776, when the Second Continental Congress passed a resolution stating as such. In the spirit of the Enlightenment, it was decided further clarification on this decision was needed, and that a formal declaration of the reasons for independence should be drafted. Both Adams and Franklin turned down the job, which fell to Jefferson. The Congress voted approval of the declaration on July 4. Hancock signed it and sent it off to the printer so that couriers could disseminate it throughout the colonies. Everyone then went home and grilled some hot dogs.

You have several options for celebrating the birth of our country tomorrow. You can write or sign a radical document, or you can stay home and grill some hot dogs. Either way, don't hold the sparkler too close to your eyes.

Next Time, We'll Talk About Religion

About once a week I have breakfast at my local neighborhood place where all the regulars spend each morning reading the paper and discussing local politics. It can get loud, and I tend to prefer peace at 7 in the morning, but it's nonetheless an occasionally fun way to start the day. This morning's conversation veered away from the local, and I spent almost an hour engaged in what I'll call a dialogue (it was really more of an argument) about judicial power. Specifically: do judges legislate from the bench?

The point of departure was the judicial decision in California to override the referendum passed by voters that outlawed gay marriage. My friend said that this was an instance of misuse of judicial powers and was in effect "legislating from the bench." I said that he only felt this way because he disagreed with the decision. The judiciary interprets the law. When we agree with the interpretation at hand, justice has been served. When we disagree, we feel that power is being abused and say things like, "That's just legislating from the bench."

I've been reading Nixonland, Rick Perlstein's engrossing account of the fracturing apart of the Democratic Party during the 1960s and the rise to power not only of Nixon, but of cultural conservatism and the Republican right. I pointed out that the very notion of judicial abuse of power was invented by Nixon's advisers as a way of turning legal and constitutional issues into moral issues. Civil rights? I'm for them, but not for legislating from the bench. Affirmative action? Good thing, but the people, not the courts, need to make these decisions. Abortion? Agree the Constitution says it's illegal or else you're legislating from the bench.

His counterargument is that courts should not be able to overturn the will of the people. If a referendum is passed, the voters want it, and it therefore must be upheld. I said that referendums must adhere to state and federal law, that courts are only ruling on points of law, not points of legislature. And around we went.

So, having spent the better part of a week immersed in the history of "positive polarization" and the conflation of the legal and the moral, I ask: am I crazy?

Democracy in America

I didn't get around to posting yesterday because I was very busy with church, target practice, and border patrol. I hope my laxness didn't make anyone bitter. Here in my small Pennsylvania town, politics is the topic of the month. Politics is always the talk of the month here; in the absence of a national contest, local politics takes over. Because of a need to DVR two shows at once Wednesday night (and I'm not going to say what they are because it's extremely embarrassing) I watched the debate in a bar. Reactions were varied, my own included.

There really isn't a lot of difference between Clinton and Obama in terms of platform. Their similitude means that this whole thing is about the unquantifiable: electablity, character, style, personal taste. The media can make this a referendum on race and gender, and maybe that plays into it in subconscious ways, but I tend to think a number of people will be voting Tuesday for the candidate that they just "like" better.

I never care whether or not I "like" a candidate. I'm not voting for a dinner party guest. I'm never going to meet, let alone befriend, any of these people. In most elections, the differences between candidates are discernable, and I vote for the person who best represents my beliefs. In this instance, both candidates represent my beliefs closely enough that I'll vote for either one of them in November. Who do I vote for Tuesday, then?

Many pundits criticized the first 40 minutes of the debate for focusing on surrounding controversies like lies, Weathermen, and flag pins, and not on the "issues." In some ways these controversies are the issues though. Do I vote for the person who, to put it kindly, stretched the truth, or the person who either can't or won't apologize for belittling small-town working people? They've both stretched the truth, and I know that words are slippery things that can be interpreted various ways. So to me, the decision is made not by buying into one candidate or the other's evasive explanations, but by buying into the tone in which those explanations are delivered. Ultimately, it is about "liking," even if neither will be coming to dinner any time soon.

The concern about the primaries continuing on is that issues get buried beneath questions of personality when the two candidates remaining are so close in opinion. The concern is that by the end of it voters will have learned all the reasons to not "like" either Democrat. Maybe this is a positive, though. At this early stage, Americans know the weaknesses of both Clinton and Obama; by June, they will have been hashed over and over in the press, perhaps to the point where no one will be listening. McCain's character flaws will at that point be fresh news.

What I want in the end, come January 2009, is an administration that will be different from Bush's, that will disengage us in Iraq, that will care about and restore our rights at home, that will focus on the concerns of working Americans and not just business and the wealthy. I know I'll get that from either Clinton or Obama. Who do I "like" better, though? I honestly don't like either of them. Clinton can seem imperious and cold, and Obama often seems like he's scolding anyone who doesn't share his enlightened ideas about "hope." The debate didn't make me like either of them any more than I did the day before. One of them will get my vote anyway.

History Lessons

Is anyone else watching John Adams on HBO? Did anyone read the book? I'm wondering because, although I'm enjoying the miniseries, Paul Giamatti is playing Adams as if he is constantly constipated. He looks absolutely clenched-up and tortured. I know Adams spent the last 30 years of his life writing letter after tortured letter complaining that he didn't get enough credit for all that he did, but was this a lifelong thing, or just a product of the fact that Adams really didn't get much recognition during his lifetime?

Maybe he wasn't all that likable. Plus, he did sign into law the Alien and Sedition Acts, some of the most unpopular and controversial legislation ever passed (and, the 18th century version of the Patriot Act). I don't know. Hamilton wasn't very well-liked either, yet he managed to get his face on the ten dollar bill. Of course, he also boated over to Weehawken and dueled to his death with Aaron Burr, so he does get the "died before his time" sympathy. And Burr shortly proved himself to be a tad crazy and treacherous, but that's another story.

Adams' son, John Quincy Adams, also got the short end of history's stick. Until 2000, this pair was our only father-son presidential tag team. In an interesting parallel with the Bush saga, John Q was given the presidency by House of Representatives, despite losing the popular and electoral votes, which Andrew Jackson had won. Henry Clay dropped out of the running, gave his support to John Q, John Q was elected on the first ballot, and Clay was appointed Secretary of State. Jackson cried foul, quit the Senate and immediately began his campaign to take the Presidency away from Adams. By all accounts John Q was the best diplomat every elected President (he was the author of the Monroe Doctrine, after all), but Jackson's supporters undermined his domestic policies, and Jackson won the election of 1828 overwhelmingly.

So neither Adams gets talked about much, except as part of someone else's story. Which makes the book and miniseries nicely corrective. The cliche is that history is written by the winners, but really the point is that history tends to be written about the winners. I'm enjoying John Adams because it feels like a peek into the life of one of history's losers, and that's refreshing.

Plus, Thomas Jefferson is hot.

Only In My Dreams

The Democratic primaries have been interesting, and I've certainly been paying attention. However, unlike a seemingly disproportionate number of people, the candidates have not yet entered my dreams. Yes, many of us have been dreaming of Hillary or Barak, and if you're interested in seeing how the candidates interact with the subconscious, check out this site, where such dreams can be sent in and posted. Once on the site, use the links on the left to navigate from Hillary dreams to Barak dreams. In the spirit of fairness, a link for McCain has been added, but as of yesterday poor John had only entered the dream life of two people.

I'm not sure that any meaningful information can be gleaned from the site. Obama holds about the same lead in percentage of dreams as he does in delegates, while dreams about Clinton are on the whole more emotional and centered on feelings. Clinton dreams are also on the whole more sexualized. Obama more often comes across as cool. Mainly, it's an interesting read, and inadvertently quite funny.

Here's one about Obama:

I became best friends with Barack Obama. We had a sleepover at his house and played board games all night, like it was middle school again. In the morning, he went to the kitchen to cook up some pancakes. While he was out of the room, I took the opportunity to call my friend on the phone, all excited, saying, You have to come over! I'm at Barack's house and we have pancakes!

She replied, Yeah, whatever, me and Barack are BFF. We’re going to hang out later this afternoon.

Many of the Clinton dreams involve her clothes. Generally, she's wearing pants suits, and some sort of wardrobe malfunction is immanent. Here's a malfunction of a different kind:

I was reading a magazine article about Hillary. Then I got to the part that read: Also, she can be cruel. She enjoys wearing $1 billion dresses, one of which is made from the fleece of an endangered penguin.

There was a picture of Hillary in the penguin dress; it looked like a zip-up penguin costume made of polar fleece, and would probably keep you warm.

Sometimes the dreams verge on nightmares:

Keanu Reeves was voted in as the next President of the United States. He was giving his acceptance speech, dressed in jeans and a hoodie. He looked good, but we were all shocked. How did he win? Did we even know he was running? I set about urgently painting him a sign, twelve metres long, with a too-dry paint brush, reminding him of all the things he had to remember: Prioritize education. Provide medicare. Cap corporate profits. The environment! There were two brief interruptions as we fielded interviewed reactions from Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. They were both equally stumped. They didn't know he was running, but were gracious losers.

I'll leave you with my favorite dream. It has it all: finding oneself in an inappropriate situation, fear of discovery, food as a stand-in for sex. Happy REM cycles to everyone:

I was at some kind of county fair and Hillary walked up to me and said Hi Dan! (I didn’t know how she knew my name.) I’m Hillary Clinton. Are you going to vote for me?

I told her that I hadn’t decided yet, but wanted to know more about what she stood for. She told me that she had to go to the restroom, but that if I went with her into the bathroom she would talk to me while she took care of business. I followed her into the restroom and she went into one of the stalls. She started talking about her platform but I wasn’t paying attention because I was trying to get the bathroom door locked. I didn’t want to get caught in a women’s restroom with Hillary Clinton.

She came walking out of the stall with a Dole pineapple whip (like they sell at Disneyland). She said, Look what I found in the stall. This is delicious!

I told her that she shouldn’t be eating that because who knows where it came from and who knows how long it had been in there, but she wouldn't listen. I said I had to go, but I would definitely be voting for her. I was lying so I could get away. She thanked me and asked if I knew where to get some ribs.

Stormy Weather

I went to bed last night without checking in on the Texas and Ohio primary results, mainly because I just wasn't in the mood for Anderson Cooper. When tremendous thunderstorms awakened me around 4 this morning, for some reason I thought, "Hillary won. The primary is on." Although I wasn't glad to be up at 4 AM, I was happy to think that this primary will continue.

Presidential primaries have been decided earlier and earlier. Remember 1968, when Bobby Kennedy triumphed in California in June? I don't either, but the point is that would never happen now. I've always lived in states with primaries so late in the schedule that the race was decided, and it was looking as if that would be the case once again this year, with Pennsylvania not voting until April 22. I wanted Clinton to prevail simply because I wanted the race to last long enough for me to have a say.

It strikes me that a short primary season favors the wealthy candidates, and that also bothers me. A short primary season means that no one can come out of left field, build momentum, build a coalition, fundraise his or her way through it. A short season would seem to me to favor the front-runner, and in January the front-runner is the one with the bucks and therefore the profile. I liked that Huckabee refused to drop out just because he was losing. Why should he? Do we encourage sports teams to quit games at halftime if they're behind? Isn't democracy about having choices?

I honestly haven't been taken with any candidate of either party this year, and until yesterday I've watched the results at a remove. But I did care greatly about yesterday's results. I very much wanted Clinton to pull this off simply because I didn't want the whole thing to be decided on March 4. I don't know whether I'll vote for her or Obama in April, and I wanted the chance to weigh the options and make a decision. Thank you, Ohio and Texas voters, for giving me that chance, for allowing me to meaningfully participate in the presidential primary.

On the downside, I'm assuming the barrage of annoying ads will begin anon.