“Let’s just saddle up and have an argument”?

I just saw footage of former president Bill Clinton saying that politics is a body sport and you have to be willing to get beat up. OK, you fucking adulterer, I want to see your income tax returns, now. And I want to see evidence that your wife, the one who is the putative candidate, can actually keep you on a leash. And why she says she “misspoke” when in fact she told several whopping, flat-out lies. And how on earth she can justify the race-baiting tactics of her campaign. And why she voted to send to Iraq 4,000 American men and women who would be alive now had she not wanted to show she has big balls—not to mention the much larger number of injuries of American servicemen and ‑women and the untold numbers of Iraqi lives lost or damaged beyond repair.

And while we’re at it, can you explain how you or she can ask for gay and lesbian support when you sold us down the river as president?

And when Hillary claims she has thirty years of experience, could she be more specific? Thirty years of experience as what, exactly? A political wife?  A failed, unelected policy wonk? A dirty street fighter? Please.

All I can say is, I am no longer willing to vote for just any Democratic candidate. If Hillary Clinton wins the Democratic nomination, I will not vote for her. How’s that for an argument, Bill?

Mommyblogs

My first experiences with friends having babies is now in the teens years ago. But a new crop of friends (and my sister!) have been having babies, and this time there’s the joy of mommyblogs. My favorite entries are often the self-confessedly sappy ones like this: Nice work if you can get it.

Whether she ever sleeps through the night or not (I pray the former) the real truth of it is this: the moments I am lucky enough to spend with my sleeping child in my arms will be among the sweetest of my life.

I have such fond memories of when my friend Sam (he of the now teen years) was a baby and Barbara watched him on the mornings she and I had our weekly breakfast, and sometimes on an after-breakfast walk he would fall asleep in my arms as I carried him.

New England Flower Show

I had the good fortune to accompany the Boston.about.com guide to the New England Flower show for the press preview. The show is similar to other years. I do believe the competitive horticulture section is improving (although they still allow plastic pots!). Here’s a shot from the bonsai exhibit that I rather like.

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Phineas Finn

And, in a break from political videos, I should report that I finished Anthony Trollope’s Phineas Finn, which introduces yet another misguided, modestly dissipated youth who doesn’t know his own mind, in this case the title character. There are also three rather wonderful female characters: Lady Laura Kennedy, for whom the plot is a tragedy; Miss Violet Effingham, for whom the book eventually turns out to be a romance; and Madame Max Goesler, for whom the book may or may not be a comedy. I hope very much to see each of these characters (even young Mr Finn) in a future book.