And I shall cast my lot with…

Power is not a toy we give to good children

Power is not a toy we give to good children. It is a weapon. And the strong man takes it and uses it. If you don’t go down there and beat Joe Cantwell to the floor with this very dirty stick, then you’ve got no business in the big league. Because if you don’t fight, the job is not for you. And it never will be. – The Best Man 1964

Today is Super Tuesday or, as people who lives are not totally wrapped up in the political horse race call it: Tuesday.

Sometime this afternoon I will go down to my polling station where I will mark a ballot, or punch a card, or touch a touchscreen (automatically casting my vote for Pat Buchanan), or pick up a painted rock and drop in in a barrel, or whatever they will have us doing today for the candidate of our choice.

I could get all wonky and explain that I am choosing X because he/she has a better plan for health-care or immigration or getting us the hell out of Iraq, but I’m a bit more pragmatic than that.

I’m looking for the candidate who has the best chance of winning in this November.

My preference would be to know who their running mate is going to be before making my choice because it will tell me what kind of campaign I can expect from them. The soothing moderation of a Tom Vilsack or an Evan Bayh, or a political fighter like Wes Clark. But things don’t work that way and so I have to fall back on who I think will really really not-screw-it-up-like-the-Patriots and win because I can’t stand four more years of car wrecks and, besides, Canada is too far and too cold and I’m too old.

So I’m going to vote for that nice Obama man.

If, on the other hand, Hillary Clinton wins the nomination, I’ll be voting for her in November. To do otherwise, or to sit it out, is suicide.