Smitten

So, in some of my spare moments I´ve had fantasies about the hundreds of of thousands of dollars my coop will bring me when I sell it some day, or the variety of fabulous foreign cities that my new reinvented spanish-speaking, world-travelling self might alight in, but the one where I really had to reign myself in is the one in which I return home from the Peace Corps in August 2008 and work to North Carolina for Barack Obama. If all goes according to plan he will of course have won the nomination and be poised for election as the first African-American president. This is all of course plausible (how great would that be?) but of course its a daydream so I find myself at the center of it. I charm the entire Democratic party of North Carolina with my tireless volunteer work and at some high emotion campaign event they insist they must introduce me to the Senator. In the thirty seconds that I have to speak to him, he is compelled by my dazzling command of health care policy and after winning (again, how great would that be?) offers me a fat job in his administration. People I tell this to are very polite and say things like "well really that could happen." But the probability of all those things happening exactly like that is quite remote.

Needless to say, however, I´m very excited about the incipient announcement of his candidacy.

Since we are on topic, why on earth does Biden need someone to tell him that using words like "articulate" and "clean" with regard to race is charged to say the least? He is not off to a good start there.