Lord, is Sam Anderson's recent
Like
This, apparently, explains why his legislative record is
pretty thin gruel: It must be difficult to moonlight as a senator when
you're day job is going through the no doubt painful process of fusing yourself to the nation formerly known as the
It's significant that he used his first appearance in the national spotlight, the keynote speech at Kerry's DNC, to meta-sketch the inspirational origin of that very keynote speech: "Let's face it, my presence on this stage is pretty unlikely," he said, and then unleashed, in about 60 seconds, a pithy intergenerational family saga spanning three continents and all the major events of mid-twentieth-century America (Depression, Pearl Harbor, postwar boom)--complete with such unlikely details as goat herding, a tin-roof shack, oil rigs, and Patton's army marching across Europe. It was like a brilliant movie trailer designed to promote the incalculably awesome feature attraction of his future political career. To deny his candidacy, after that, would be to deny a very powerful narrative logic--the goats, the tin-roof shack, Patton, all of it.
This sounds like the rantings of an overbearing salesman: If you want the goats and Patton, you're
going to have to take the Obama--and trust me: You want the goats and Patton. They
really tie the room of the national tin-roof shack together. And later:
My relationship to Obama has been a complex cycle of
enthusiasm canceled immediately by self-correcting cynical objections, canceled
by self-correcting enthusiasm, canceled again by the cynicism, canceled by the
enthusiasm.
I guess I'm starting to see why people faint at Obama rallies. Hope...make...brain...huuuurt.