He points that index finger at me and says, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” He told me last fall that the rise of Barack Obama was the “biggest fairy tale” he’d ever heard. He loves fast women, fast food, and fast talking, and not necessarily in that order.
And, damn me, I love him. I love Bill Clinton, and I want him back in the Oval Office. Hillary? She’s brilliant. She’s a work horse. Towards the end of her campaign, she showed us her inner Ann Richards. Come to think of it, you know what I really want? Bill as President and Hillary as Prime Minister. Let him get out there and play the big rooms while Hillary goes to Congress to kick ass and take names. Let them govern in tandem. I want me some alternative energy, universal health care, smart diplomacy, and a big, fat inheritance tax on our bloated plutocracy.
Barack Obama? Yes, and a resounding yes at that, but am I feeling the love? Not so much, and that’s funny as I do feel it for Michelle. When I was watching her Monday night, getting some much deserved First Lady props, what I kept thinking was that if she took that charm and that humor and let it loose in the service of her incredible intellect, she would be the next Bill Clinton.
Back to the world of dreams . . .
