Eminentoes

Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered

Rare candor from the wicked stepmother of American politics.

By 1.8.08

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Things are getting pretty weird out on the campaign trail now that the official voting season is an entire week old.

On the Republican side, daily reports of the demise of one candidate or another, based on the proclivities of a few thousand voters, leave one with the impression that madness has gripped the Beltway. It's as if even recent electoral history -- unless easily summed up in a brief sound bite -- is to be totally ignored; a strange way of thinking for those under the sign of the elephant.

Meanwhile, in the donkey party, the behavior is becoming, well, asinine. The great Howard Dean-like worship of Barack Obama by college kids and others of similar political immaturity is leading many to call the contest early as well: The queen is dead, long live the queen!

Yes, there are even loonies who claim that he would be our first woman president.

All of this has left a certain little lady feeling a bit down in the mouth. So somewhere up in chilly New Hampshire, a woman of a certain age and very close to tears, is feeling just a tad under the weather:

INTRO

After one whole week of voting,
Things are not what they should be.
By this time I should be gloating
All over TV.

Working for my coronation,
I've done pretty well, I think.
But this dog-gone nomination
Has me on the brink.

REFRAIN

I'm riled this time;
Reviled this time;
The Caucus I lost to a child this time;
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

My Bill he's not,
Yet still he's got
That something that makes my voice shrill a lot;
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

Lost in Iowa, badly;
Couldn't win like Al Gore.
He faced only Bill Bradley,
Not the Obama Corps.

The press is his;
My guess is his
Fresh face just might mean that success is his;
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

The hoi polloi
Brought me no joy.
I even got edged by a pretty-boy;
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

When I lost to John Edwards,
That was really a bruise.
Could it be that he said words
That even I won't ooze.

Astute is he;
Darned cute is he;
So dashing in his empty suit is he;
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

I'm ticked again;
Drop-kicked again;
Believe me, I won't be out-slicked again;
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered no more

Won't forget Hawkeye trauma;
Council Bluffs let me down.
How could they let Obama
Dare to presume my crown?

But just you wait;
It's not too late
To turn on the tears in the Granite State;
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, you'll see.

Road kill he'll be;
Yet still he'll be
A pest, so I won't rest until he'll be
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered; like me!

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About the Author

Lisa Fabrizio is a columnist who hails from Connecticut (mailbox@lisafab.com).