Or to get back on his meds or something.
Craziest thing about last night's exhibition is that McCain pushed for the town hall format, wanted to do like twenty of them or something.
What's the thought process there?
"Y'see, if we're standing there side by side, the people can see, without doubt, that I'm an old, cranky, kind of weird guy and that my opponent, that one, is young, graceful, warm and much more human than my old creaky ass. Maybe we should run some kind of obstacle course at the end, you know, jump over things and climb a wall or something? Then I could be lying on the ground at the end, unable to catch my breath or move while he dances around with his hands in the air. Y'see?"
What we got here is a critical, near fatal gap between self-image and reality.
Johnny thinks he's a fun-loving ex-Navy pilot going up against the Establishment.
But the world looks at him and sees... the Establishment.
Anyway, Obama took the night, giving me a very nice birthday present.
Thanks to all for the good wishes.
Now to work. Scribbling away on the Postmen and much League of Independent Theater bidness to get done.
Back in Rat City on Friday, a man can only take so much peace and quiet.