Having been singularly impressed by the higher qualities of Barack Obama’s mind and spirit, I remain whole-heartedly convinced he will be the next President. Obama is coming at this project from an entirely different perspective, and people feel that. He appeals to reason and intelligence. There’s an intuitive connection to the unconscious. What resonates is the inherent sense of fair play in all our souls. Shoot, even if I’m imagining all this, he’s still the one because of what he can elicit.

I have to think humanity’s best impulses are stronger than the worst. Otherwise, I’d be dead already. (Those words are not written lightly.) But our political and cultural leaders are, for the most part, hopelessly mired in outdated, fear-drenched conventional wisdom. Who would not despair of healing them, and should one even try? Just walk away and live your life the way you really want to, I say to myself.

It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. Maybe everybody should!

UPDATE: I just watched a great video of Obama at a labor rally in Pennsylvania. I could post these things all day. Damn, he’s good.

This man is amazing. I want to vote NOW for the smartest candidate I’ve seen in decades. Enjoy, if you haven’t seen this elsewhere:

The following quotation comes from an article about how McCain can win. The passage describes a perceived opportunithy if Clinton somehow wins the Democratic nomination:

… a Clinton primary win would give McCain an opportunity to win over younger voters (whom he connected with in ‘00) and affluent, white male independents (who have been gravitating slowly to Obama for some time).

Somehow that ‘00 enthusiasm for McCain with younger voters went right by me at the time, but then I’m not young now and wasn’t then, either. Anyway, that dense pearl of wisdom was delivered by someone who’s supposed to be smart, which is presumably why he’s the political director for MSNBC.

Why does anyone pay any attention at all to these people??

Not for lizard brains! I’ve never heard a politician speak this bravely, honestly, and intelligently about anything, never mind something so important. This is how it ought to be. Oh wait, it is! Now do you see why I feel good?

Can we just elect this guy president now? Please??

UPDATE: This is pretty much where I’m coming from. The following is an excerpt from a column by Adam McKay, writing at Huffington Post. It’s called “Obama Cracks My TV in Half.”

But it happened. Barack Obama spoke like an enlightened leader from 2008 instead of like the fake cowboy from 1885 that most politicians evoke or like a pharmaceutical salesman talking about change, but “not that much change” at a team building exercise in Tahoe. In other words, he didn’t pass the buck to save his own ass. It was a monumental moment in modern American politics. He didn’t distract, deflect, or attempt to frighten. He didn’t accuse, declare war, or get angry. He didn’t game play, scape goat, or blame. Can you imagine? We need to engrave this shit onto a commemorative coin fast.

The man is a gift, I tell you. It’ll be a whole different ball game with him in there.

Interesting days!

Two things, or rather three:

One, the calm, intelligent, humane way Obama has responded to the predictable attacks reminds me of what impressed me about him when I first actually sat down and watched him on TV. Compared to Clinton and McCain, it’s like he’s from another planet: THIS ONE!

Two, it looks kinda nasty on the financial blogs. Whatever you do, don’t read any of them. They’ll just make you feel stupid that you didn’t sell your house in 2005, buy gold, and live in a tent. (???) Well now, wait a minute.

Three, my wife announced yesterday that she realized she had “always led an unconventional life” and actually felt good about herself in that regard. [GREAT HOLY MOTHER OF ALL BEINGS!!! Who am I to be so blessed?]

That’s enough, go about your business.

UPDATE (Sunday night ): Looks like something’s up with number two. But never fear, the bankers are in charge! Er…well then, the Bush administration is in charge! No, that can’t be right. Hell, maybe I’m in charge and just forgot! We’ll see.

First the heavy stuff:

I ran into this by Lynda Obst, an Obama supporter since 2004, “one of the most prolific and well know female producers, authors and commentators in the film industry,” in a Huffington Post column entitled “Women of My Generation Have Clearly Lost Their Minds.” The theme of the piece is the psycho-emotional unsavoriness of Hillary Clinton’s victim trip, and please remember I’m quoting a 50-something professional woman here:

And now she is the killer of Hope. (It was just too delusional to manage). We are not that multi-racial post-oppression society that shocked the world and for a moment was its wonder. We are, thanks to Hillary’s kitchen sink and staff, the same old America they thought we were. The racially charged, fractured America Bush & Rush left us with that Obama has the prescription to heal. The one that attracted us original believers during his miraculous 2004 convention speech then swept 11 primaries in a row and apparently had to be stopped (thanks, SNL). We are the broken polarized America she wants to rule, will do anything to rule.

That we have learned can’t be ruled…

The bitterness is understandable. I feel it myself.

It’s a response to the betrayal of possibility, the denial of love, really. That’s it, a denial of love: I’m only hurting you for your own good, etc. I had to suck up all this pain because the world is SHIT, so vote for me because the other guy is too good to be true. The Bad Mommy, the one who doesn’t love you because she hurts too much herself. Pretty damn dangerous stuff in a president, I’d say, and awfully depressing in one who thinks to lead.

On the OTHER hand — and there is always an “other hand”…

If someone comes along who touches something universal that makes people want to embrace a common good, this is exactly what you get by way of reaction. It has to happen. It’s going to get much worse, in fact. But fine! So what? This only means the thing is real: you can’t raise dust with an imaginary broom.

I’m going to quote a post now from Raging Universe in its entirety. That’s probably not ethical, but the post is only one paragraph long, and I expect the author won’t mind, especially if you pay his site a visit. It’s called “Obamaland.”

It struck me as odd and interesting last night while musing after Barack’s Mississippi win. People get all mucked up — in and out, on top of, and underneath one another, entwined, entangled, and everything — and they attempt to include him. But he’s usually gallivanting about in Obamaland, be it Wyoming, Alabama, Wisconsin, or wherever. Well, yes, he does touch base periodically to answer a query or debate some non-issues, but not for long. He’s some traveler. I bet he travels light.

Don’t analyze it.

Just keep moving, everything’s fine.

Boy, am I exhausted. Here it is not even 10 o’clock and I feel like it’s two in the morning. Yes, of course it’s the goddamned snow. It’s everything. Pushing too hard! Why? To learn how to stop, maybe. Maybe that’s what this is all about.

It’s the same with the idiotic political process. The only one running who knows we make our own space is Obama, yet for some reason, he isn’t president yet. This is very frustrating to me, and I apologize for any excesses of rhetoric that may have been provoked. It’s just that if he were president now, I wouldn’t have to worry about Bush & Cheney bombing Iran on their way out the door. Up to now, being rid of those two has seemed an impossible dream. The thought of President Obama is like a healing balm.

A few important trends in my own life are coming together, or seem like they could, so why keep all these bricks in my saddlebags? Scale that up as high as you want, same deal. Rather than worry or be frustrated, just go giddy-up. That’s how we got the car, you know.

Hell, how can world peace be far behind?

What an incredible scene.

Yes, we were able to vote after all. The sun came out. Our road was plowed. I got the truck unstuck and drove us to the polling place, and I have never, ever seen the like. So many people, all Democrats obviously, being that this was a Democratic caucus site. But no one actually caucuses here, it’s just like regular voting, except with party volunteers instead of poll workers. There was as huge crowd inside the Talpa Community Center, and a long line snaking out the door. Inside there were three lines: one for people with last names A through J, another for K through Z, and a third line for “M”…

[One beat, two beats, three beats]

Get it yet?

MARTINEZ!

When that line ran down, the fellow at the table called out, “Any more ‘M’s? Martinez, Martinez, Martinez??”

Somethin’ else, muchachos. Just a wonderful scene. I didn’t mind waiting, and I didn’t want to leave. Everyone was so friendly, “How are you?” with hugs and handshakes, like a big family reunion. My wife said she expected us all to meet afterwards in another room to eat posole. I wish we had!

Oh my God…

We were supposed to get less than two inches overnight, but there are knee-deep drifts in places. About 10 -12 inches overall, and it’s still snowing. Needless to say, walking to the polls is now the only way to get there, and under the circumstances, it doesn’t look like it’s going to work. After my grand declaration below, too. But as of now, nobody is going anywhere. The votes from Taos County are going to be way down, absolutely. (The header rollover image shows the snow last night before the extra foot or so!)

Most of the roads in this part of the state are closed. ALL the mountain passes are closed. My pickup truck isn’t going anywhere until spring, the way things look, and guess who’s out of milk and toilet paper. Maybe now I’ll find out how they managed in the olden days, before we all bought 48 rolls in a giant shrinkwrapped bundle from the local Wal-Mart. And chopping kindling is a joy in heavy powder: I prop the chunk up against a log — after sweeping over a foot of snow away so I can find it — and let the splitting maul come down. The chunk splits cleanly into two nice pieces, both of which fly off into the snow and disappear.

So I am snowed in, folks. This is the very definition of the term!

Well, this is kinda strange, but I think everything will be all right.

After years of carping, bitching, whining, hating, excoriating, and denouncing anything that has to do with the corrupt soul of American governance and policy (especially the traitorous, cowardly Democratic leadership in Congress), and after undergoing a complete transformation of personal consciousness regarding the things that really matter — on my good days — I actually feel happy to be heading out to vote tomorrow. It’s the damnedest thing.

The last time I felt even remotely like this was in ‘92. Finally I had a chance to vote for one of my own, so to speak, and even though I thought Clinton and Gore much too conservative and conventional, they were still my guys. I could have been them (with tons more money and sense), and they could have been me, at least in part. I was voting for my generation, and I wanted it to count…

It was an unusually warm fall that year in Maryland. On election day, the sky was overcast, the air was damp and still. We lived in the country just the other side of Still Pond, about seven miles or so on a quiet two-lane road from the polling place in a community center in Kennedyville. I wanted to remember that day by doing something different, so I rode my bike to vote. My clothes got wet with sweat, and when I got there, I know I must have reeked. That didn’t matter, though — all the way home I felt really good, because I’d taken part in something big that was also important just for me. To this day I refer to Bill Clinton as “my boy,” though if the truth be known, I’m rather tired of him now. I think we’d get along just fine, though, outside of all the politics, if that were possible.

Here in Llano Quemado, it snowed all day long today. There’s half a foot of fresh powder on top of snow and ice that’s been here for a couple of months. By the time the sun went down, it was winter wonderland all over again, and tomorrow night the temperature will drop below zero.

Anticipating all this, I scored three-quarters of a cord of resin-charged piñon on Sunday. My current wood guy and friend charges $150 for that much. He owns half a mountain and cuts the wood from his own forest. A wildlife survey found there were 1,100 elk on his land, and sometimes when he drives up there, they run a hundred strong alongside his truck… I know, one can hardly believe these things, but I assure you it’s all true, and soon he’ll take me up there. You need to know this because it adds to what the firewood means. It’s full of resin because he cuts only beetle-killed trees. He actually takes as much of the whole tree home as he can to cut up, down to the smallest branches, leaving no burnable waste up in the woods. What I’m trying to say is that this is special fuel. You throw a couple of chunks on top of the coals in the morning, and usually they start right up. I hardly ever use kindling, since the fire runs pretty much 24/7.

Now, of course, the woodpile has disappeared again under a blanket of white. It’s pretty, but I have to take a broom outside to find my firewood. I was just out there to uncover enough to bring in for the evening. There wasn’t any wind at all, and I didn’t feel cold except for where the snow got into my crocs. (Okay, I’m lazy…)

In the midst of these conditions, our car died over the weekend. We only have the ‘87 Ford F-150 now, like a regular ranch family, but we won’t be using it tomorrow. When we head off to the Talpa community center to vote — about a mile and a half away — we’ll be on foot, by choice. Walking in the snow on a quiet rural back road, we’ll go past fields, a river, scores of barking dogs, horses, cows, a few nice homes, and several bombed-out trailers. If the sun has come out by then, it’ll all be fairly spectacular on the one hand and ridiculously ordinary on the other. Just a couple of people, walking down the road to vote. I don’t know how my wife will vote, but I’m voting for Obama.

This isn’t generational. Obama’s about as old as a lot of my current friends. (The older I get, the more imperative it is to meet them younger.) One’s own kind are easy to acknowledge, great shuffling beasts who sniff each other once, flap a little wattle, and instantly know everything. My younger friends are like me 15 years ago, no longer kids but still immortal, full of energy just slightly poisoned by regret — enough to give it flavor — and making plans without a ticking clock. I suck it up like a vampire of love. I need this stuff to keep my own hoop rolling down the road.

Hillary won’t do. I know her, remember (sniff and flap). Obama represents the new. That’s all I care about. The old is utterly, forever discredited and damned. All I have to do to figure this out is look in any mirror. To hell with me, to goddamn hell with John McCain, but cast a vote for change and joy. I want to ring a gong and make a statement. The last ten years have been a horror and grotesquery, and now our world is dying. What else is there to do but go on record as siding with the unknown, with all the invisible potential straining to bust loose every second? I still don’t care too much about what Obama may believe, but I think he’ll wield a helluva broom.

I want to do the most damage to the frozen past. I want to live for now, for everyone, and go for broke.