Yaicha

I’ve gotten weary of the presidential race, and too busy with other things to follow it much for a while, or even to care. But I enjoyed Maureen Dowd’s wry, mocking wit in her column this morning: “Is ‘The One’ Cocky or Commander in Chiefy?“
I love that McCain’s aides call Obama “The One,” thinking they are cleverly sarcastic in their reference to Keanu Reeves’ character in The Matrix. Yet it’s telling how true the characterization rings. I immediately thought, “Yes, that’s what this feels like. Just like in the movie when more and more little things fall in place to gradually convince you that, indeed, this guy is ‘the one’ destined to save us.”

Of course, we’re not in a movie and Obama is no messiah, but there is something of that air about him. He just seems so different from every politician who has come before him that you can’t help wondering if there isn’t some greater force at work.

OK, I’ll stop indulging in fantastic thinking now and go back to ignoring the presidential contest.

clipped from www.nytimes.com The media behemoth slouching after the senator is scouring his every word, expression, bead of sweat, basketball shot and accessory — are those hiking boots too Bremer? Are the sunglasses too rapper? Will he leave enough time for his glittery groupie, Carla Bruni? — for hints of imperfection that would foretell lacunae in presidential judgment.