Editor’s In Box
Maybe it was Joe the Plumber.
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly. However, somewhere in the final stretch of this election season, I had a bit of a breakdown. The need to throw W. out of the White House in ‘04 turned me into the political junkie I am, but this time around, admittedly, I lost it. I’d supported Obama since the beginning of the year and I couldn’t be more protective of the candidate if I were a lioness guarding a cub. Whether he was up in the polls or down in the polls, I was irascible, slept badly, engaged in one-sided screaming matches with the television, saw racism and classism and other nefarious –ism’s from the talking heads with smirks and funny names like Pfotenhauer and Wurzelbacher, got into a bar fight with a black gay republican, and became totally absorbed in a lone frazzled caffeine-fueled writing project entitled “Elizabeth Hasselbeck: Rush Limbaugh with Lipstick?”
