Things are no better since my last Blog, although more and more Obama supporters are pleading for, demanding, entreating him and his campaign brain trust to hit back, hit back harder but be careful not to stoop to conquer.  CNN and even CNBC are reporting the worry of Obama supporters.  Olbermann says he must get tougher.

MSNBC reports that Obama says he's doing it. He even used the "L" word for the first time. But it all seems so pygmyesque against the Rovian juggernaut. Bush's brain is now McCain's brain. It's a brain that won't die because Rove is a death star. Rove knows branding. Rove knows narrative framing. Rove knows dark secrets that no human ought to know.

Of course, there are the naysaying, the self-proclaimed realists, the ones who characterize those of us who reside at Camp Suicide as wussy, hissy fitting, sky-falling Democrats. Indeed we're told by the naysayers of our party, with smirks of condescension, that most Democrats thrive on despair, on pessimism; yea, despair is the absinth of Democratic emotionalism. Republicans get angry, vengeful, spiteful and righteous (or at least a lot of them do). Democrats seem to prefer clothes rending and breast tearing. That's what they say. Hey, if NYT columnist, Gail Collins, says that about us, it must be true, right? We have nothing to fear but fear itself? We are just supplicants to the Pessimism god.

Maybe true. Maybe it is worry that inspires, energizes, gets us out of bed in the morning and out on the picket lines or on the computer or phone to despair and commiserate with the despair of other despairing Democrats. Each morning we promise each other that if McCain wins, we're moving to Canada...or to any place that will have us. As long as we can find a Trader Joe's, a Noah's Bagels and a Starbucks there . No need to be without vitals when one is relocating, running from obvious theocracy aborning.

Or so it all seems sometimes.

It's bad. We understand that, and anyone who tries to shed some light on the subject and says things like "tracking polls are bull dung and what counts are electoral votes," are dismissed with an annoyed wave of the hand. My wife had the temerity to predict that Obama will win by a wide margin and told me to stop with Hamletine anguish, cease my Jewish angst, "it's getting a bit old, darling" she sneered, sympathetically, "It looked so much better on the Danish Prince."

Doesn't matter to me and my friends. We mainline bad news. That's true, I'm sure. Our motto: "All bad news, all the time." Yeah, Palin is under scrutiny. Maybe Obama's people did parachute into Alaska dozens of lawyers and journalists to dig up the goods on Miss Mythic Alaska Soccer Mom and Moose Hunter Sister Sarah. Doesn't matter. Republicans will find some reason to blame the Democrats and dismiss the dirt as...well, just dirt, and who cares about dirt unless it's Obama's dirt.

For Democrats, you see, here's the genetic truth: it's mourning in America.

Well, more like anticipatory mourning in America. It hasn't happened yet. But it will happen. We'll lose.  The end is near.  Dr.Strangelove will be back at the helm.

Or so it all seems sometimes.

"But here, STOP, FOR GOD'S SAKE STOP!," I say to myself. I'm doing this to me. I'm downing me. I really have no idea how it will turn out. They haven't even had the first debate, the debate that we're counting on to show the geriatric, teeth-clenched, temper-prone, Bush-clone truth of McCain and the indisputable superiority of Obama. And Joe.  Don't forget Joe B.  Really.

Look, I tell myself, it's possible that lies and spins and distortions and misquotes will stop there, will stop then; in the kitchen of debate of words and images. The images and words will neutralize McCain and make him stand accountable for his calumny and false god of something the co-opting Republicans now call CHANGE. It will be Nixon's 5 o'clock shadow all over again, the shadow that did him in as he sparred onstage with a young, vibrant JFK during the first televised debate in 1960. Young-Old, Vibrant-Dull, Nuanced-Dork simple, Fresh-Stale. History will repeat itself in 2008. Truth will become manifest. Huzzah, Huzzah.

Forget it! I watch one news show--it doesn't even have to be Fox -- and I can't hold on to this victory fantasy. It slips away, out my brain, through my fingers, into my cups, and along with it my feeble hope, replaced by my old friend, Mr. Blue.

That's it! I gotta get out of this town of my mind. Gotta move. But where? What's the answer. I know there's an answer. What the $%^& is it........ What. Is. It?...................................I've got it! I simply have to--

Wait. What's that? I hear a noise behind me. Who's there? I know there's someone there. What do you want? Get away from me. I need to finish this blog. Don't you understand, I need to finish this blog. I need to tell them -- What is that thing? What are you holding in your hand? Get out! Get--

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Tags: absinth, barack obama, brain trust, chipmunk, cnbc, condescension, death star, depression, emotionalism, juggernaut, media psychology, msnbc, msnbc reports, naysayers, pa rt, politics, realists, shadow government, style definitions, style name, times new roman, waif