I don’t know what I’m talking ‘bout. When it comes to politics, I don’t know what I’m talking ‘bout even more than I don’t know what I’m talking ‘bout, usually. During the last election, any credibility I had as a seer, went up in searing blistering smoke when I kept insisting Kerry was going to win.

My friend, the rock star, on the road, actually on the road, doing somethinc, actually doing somethinc!, to try to get that wind-surfing small-balled swizzle-stick of a politico, Kerry to win, by bangin’ his Woody (“this machine kills fascists”) all over this great land of ours, and explaining simply that “Bush Must Be Defeated,” had to explain to me very simply that he was out on the road, actually out on the road doing somethinc to get Kerry elected, and from what he saw and heard out, out, “YER OUT”, in the country, the Country! -- a lil’ bit different than the radius created by a series of two or three bars within a half minute of St. Marks Place -- Kerry had no chance.

“Mike, Bush must be defeated, but he’s not going to be.”

Well, um, yeah. I didn’t think Kerry was going to win either; but I wanted him to win. Gawd I did. And that’s where the stuff goes off. Like betting on your hometown team, it’s hard to put what you need, what you desire, what you dream, for you and for your family, your community and your country, outside of the cold decision-making required to make, um, cold decisions. Politics is a hot medium of cold results.

I had a dream recently where I saved Hillary Clinton from a burning building. Okay, ‘nuff said there. I remember the first time I came across the Clintons, and I fell in love. It wasn’t actually the Clintons, or more specifically, Bill. It was James Carville. I saw him on some talking head thing, and I saw him identified as Chief Whatever for someone I’d never heard of, Bill Clinton. I then saw him, well saw him saw, absolutely saw whoever he was talking to up, like a very bad magician but a very good killer. He was like another hero of mine, Clarence Darrow, come to life. He understood that an argument has context, and placing things in context helps. He was a buzzing fly deftly weaving like a fighter-pilot through the spider-web of semantics.

And, he and Bill Clinton won.

Now here’s the thing. Bush must still be defeated even if his name is McCain. I don’t want a Mondale, Dukakis, Gore, or Kerry. I want a Clinton. Even if that Clinton’s name is Obama.