As I write, the DNC rules committee is deciding what to do with the Michigan and Florida delegates. How could it have come to this? I don't mean that they'll hand down a bogus decision, a la supreme court in 2000, because I think they are all smart enough to know that they have to present a nicely trussed bird, stuffed with just enough delegates to keep everyone happy. (Except Hillary, and the woman in this photo.)
But wasn't there something that Howard Dean and the powers-that-be might have done in advance to prevent this toxic display of mayhem? Two states jumped the gun, broke the rules, all candidates agreed not to campaign in those states, Barack Obama even took his name off the ballot in Michigan, and Hillary Clinton said the votes didn't matter. And now, she says, they do. She's the champion of the little guy, you see, not a back room deal-making sort of pol.
Oh puhleez, this is why people like me who used to admire Hillary find her so off-putting now.
And I'm in Michigan, one of the contested states, where it's very cold and foggy and rainy. The trees aren't leafed out, the much celebrated lilacs are holding their magnificence in tight little bundles of pin-head sized buds. Winter has refused to face the inevitable and get out of the way for spring, which I see as a corny metaphor for the obvious.
Well, warmer weather is moving in tomorrow, I'm told, which, to play out the obvious, means that the DNC will do the right thing today. And Hillary, crushed and broken-hearted (and yes, I do feel sorry for her) will finally announce, after her victory in Puerto Rico, that she's conceding -- for the good of the country of course.
That same night, Tuesday, Barack Obama will be holding a rally in St. Paul, MN. I'll be home by then, jockeying for a place on the rope line. I think I finally feel spring in the air.