What--If Anything--Went Wrong?

Maybe it's just the hangover talking, but I'm beginning to reassess a few things.  During the back and forth about calling the election for Obama between Karl Rove and one of the interchangeable blonde bimbos on Fox News, I had some heretical thoughts.  Dad was weeping into an empty tumbler that had four fingers of scotch in it a few minutes earlier.  Could it really be that more Americans preferred the current occupant of the White House to the guy running against him?  It seems so.  While most of my acquaintances from Party HQ speculated about busloads of jihadis who voted at multiple swing state precincts, my thoughts were more introspective.  I looked at Dad with new, yet older, eyes, and saw a bitter partisan whose resentment blinded him to facts that were directly in front of him--facts he walked into face first on election night.  I could not cry with him, because I didn't know what I would be lamenting.

I sense a change of direction in this blog.  I'm a champion brachiator, and I grab the branch that's there, or I'd fall to the ground.  Reality, even when it's an unwelcome surprise, is better than self-delusion.  More later.

Sorry, Dad.