I don't like Hillary Clinton.
There, I said it. I'm a lifelong Democrat who even voted for Walter Mondale -- I missed the Dukakis election -- and I honestly don't know if I could pull the lever for the senator from New York in the fall elections.
Of course, there's not much of a chance Hillary! -- as her posters refer to her -- will be on the ballot in November.
Unless the media has its way.
No, I'm not talking about Amy Poehler's wonderful videos spoofing the senator on "Saturday Night Live." I'm talking about how, even with Clinton's chances of getting the nomination down to slim and none, the media still gives her more serious air time than either of the two eventual nominees.
If it bleeds, it leads.
Ever since she fell behind Barack Obama in February, Hillary!'s campaign has been all about drawing blood, weakening Obama to the point where she is the only legitimate Democratic nominee. And even if she isn't, he might lose and leave the road open for her in 2012.
I really don't think she'll fool the super-delegates, though. Most uncommitted Democrats know that no one energizes the right wing more than Hillary! and no one will help Republican fund-raising and get-out-the-vote efforts more than the former first lady.
So it's over.
She can't win.
Would somebody tell CNN?
I was reading a story in this week's Newsweek about a 42-year-old California woman who remembers every day of her life since age 8.
I wonder if the thought of that horrifies you as much as it does me. I wonder how horrible it would be to have a specific memory of every bad thing that ever happened to you, and I wonder how on earth you would deal with that.
I remember too much. Most of the folks I know have accused me at one time or another of living in the past, and there's some truth in that. But I don't spend a lot of time reliving the good memories; my problem is that I spend too much time focusing on the bad ones.
But it's one thing to remember the night -- March 31, 1979, to be exact -- that my first wife told me she wanted a divorce, and another to recall the morning -- February 15, 1970 -- when I went from boyhood to manhood.
Editor's note: Thanks for the euphemism.
My pleasure. Those are the high points and the low ones, but what if you had to remember every time you were embarrassed by asking a girl to dance and being turned down, or every time you were hoping to pass a test and got a 40 instead?
No, I'm perfectly happy with my strangely spotty memory. I can remember the lovely Joyce Sonnemann, the only girl I dated who probably could have been a centerfold, sexy Shelley Marcus and the others from my youth with only faint memories of the times that weren't so good.
I can remember the good times with my first wife and I can view the disintegration of our marriage as a learning experience that has helped me succeed the second time around.
I don't know if I've ever forgotten anything I needed to remember. I still know my friend Mick's parents' phone number, even though it's been more than 30 years since he lived there, and I still know my first wife's Social Security number.
I still remember the night in January 1980 when my friend Kim Gibson embarrassed me in front of half my fraternity by intentionally saying very loudly, "I'm not going to sleep with you tonight."
That's one I wish I could forget.
But if I were Jill Price, I would remember it all.
No thanks.
This is the summer of our discontent. It's a return to basics, to the original Website we launched through Lunar Pages in 2004.
Oh, we're still blogging, and the links can be found easily. But here on the home page is where we write about whatever interests us -- family, pop culture and world affairs. We hope to mix it up enough to keep you coming back.
It's all about baby boomers and their fight for love and glory in 21st century America. Or as Dooley Wilson first said, it's still the same old story.
In case you're wondering about the title, it's a line from Joni Mitchell's classic "The Circle Game" -- "We're captive on the carousel of time ..."
The picture at the top of this column is me with my lovely wife Nicole, the most amazing person in the whole world.
There are three of them, our political blog, our pop culture blog and the one set up for the W.T. Woodson High School Class of 1967. They're all run through Blogspot.
THE ZEITGEIST
An answer to the question, "Who is Mike Rappaport and why is he moving my cheese?"
