Yesterday,
. . . for the first time in three years, I woke up believing that I might actually live to see my thirtieth birthday. Even though it was overcast, the day seemed brighter, the colors more saturated, the air more sweet. The world swirled with possibilty, and everything truly felt like it was going to be O.K. And I’m merely describing how it felt to finish my official career at The Declaration.
I kid, I kid. Yesterday was like Democrat Christmas, with the Party Formerly in Exile returning home to the House and hopefully the Senate as well, Rummy resigning, and a reinvigorated, “Is that thumpin’ without a G” Press Corps. Somehow, after two months of freaking out about encroaching fascism and vote manipulation and the endless abyss of evil that is Diebold, the American people did the right thing and threw the bums out of office. They revealed that Bush and Rove’s certainty that they would win the midterms wasn’t so much evidence of wrongdoing as it was of ignorance. It’s enough to make me jump up and start singing and dancing. But I don’t want to gloat too much. That’s for Republicans to do.
And did you see the photo of Santorum’s kids crying? Schadenfreudtastic!
Sorry. I’m done gloating. Seriously.
Up after classes: what the Dems need to do to hold on their majorities in 2008.