The Never-Ending Primary

You know, once upon a time, I thought a floor-fight at the convention was a fun idea. We haven't had one in decades and I figured, "Gee, that sure would be fun."

Now, the closer it comes to becoming a reality, the less I like it. In particular, the less I like...Hillary Clinton.

I saw the screaming crowds in Pennsylvania, the confetti, the celebration and all I could think was:

I. Don't. Get. It.

What is there to get that excited about? I just don't get the kind of vibe from her that I got from candidates like....oh, I don't know...her husband.

I mean, a lot of people found it difficult to be inspired by Al Gore and John Kerry. And I understood. I forced myself to get excited about them (especially Kerry) but by the time the election rolled around, I was on board. I was a full-on Gore/Kerry backer, sending them cash, politicking for them, yard signs, web sites, the works.

And if, by some bizarre happenstance, Clinton does wind up stealing...er...getting the nomination instead of Barack, I'll get behind her, too. I will. But...I won't be happy about it.

Obama is my guy, you see. Inspirational. Forthright. Intelligent. Honest. Charismatic. And did I mention inspirational? Well, he is. I know it all sounds a little man-crushy and I apoligize, but...he's just a one-of-a-kind candidate. Supposing he finally lands the nomination, as he should, the support I showed Gore and Kerry is gonna look like chicken feed compared to the work and effort I will put into Obama's candidacy.

But Hillary? Oh, I'll back her and all that. Send her money. Point out how much better she would be than John McCain. (I won't mention that a bowl of pudding is preferable to John McCain, but I'm just sayin'.) I'll be in her corner, all the way.

But will I ever stand up and cheer her the way I do for Obama?

I dunno. I really don't. Because the problem is:

I. Just. Don't. Get. It.