I once met a guy in some impoverished country far away, a land without telephones, dirt roads crossing barely passable mountains, heavy if not unbearable poverty. And this guy was a Christian missionary. Rather big and fat with a kind of doltish grin, a true believer, literal interpretation of the Flood and everything. And there the stereotype ends. He was bright - he focused on communications, for local people as well as his organization. He believed in preaching the Word, but foremost was giving people food and education, not as bribery or blackmail, simply as a matter of priority, of love. Practical things first. He was constantly in a good mood despite the rough conditions, patiently confronting corruption and lack of resources with the same equanimity. He had his "toolkit", as he called it. Cheating or taking the easy way out weren't in that toolkit. Service and patience were.

Whenever someone starts insulting fundamentalists, I think of him. One man. One very great man. There are certainly thousands or perhaps millions of hateful hypocrites out there. And I'm not a believer myself. But I'm much more tolerant of believers because of the example of one person. I give them the benefit of the doubt, a benefit that he earned for them.

There's been talk about people being foolish, reacting to Obama based on the words or deeds of his followers. But that's the way the world works. Communism has its roots in great ideas - ideas that blossomed in the focused and heroic conditions of small kibbutzes in Israel, and which stank and turned corrupt in the hands of typical people from East Europe to China. For most who suffered, the face of Communism isn't Lenin - it's the ashen face of the store clerk or the office bureaucrat telling you "No", the bulldog policeman searching your car and confiscating your camera and books, the strict and humorless teacher making you recite the precepts of Socialist Duty or the gleefully superior suckup faces of the young party acolytes giving their 110% for the next party showcase - making wreaths, wearing the scarves and uniforms, waving their flags for the insipidly dull speeches.

It's the human face of any movement that makes it live or die. If you're an Obama believer, it's incumbent on you to display why, in word and deed, if it's significant, if it's not "politics as usual".  It's word-of-mouth marketing, it's teaching by example. If Obama is leading a movement beyond himself, and you portray yourself as part of the movement, then you either try to reflect those ideals or you cause others to reject them. That is a basic equation. Others may pull your load, take up your slack - in my friend's case, he made up for thousands of poor examples - but in the end it's better to do your part, willingly and gladly. A monk once chided his followers for being too stern - "a sad monk is a sad monk". Try not to be sad.

Hi. It's me. I heard you called. About a dozen times. Okay, make that 3 dozen. Doesn't matter. When I said I needed some time? It meant I needed some time. To clear my head out. It's been a bit of an ordeal, let's put it that way. I'm not quite sure what I want anymore. That old goat? Don't be silly. At least don't be too silly - he does have a few charms, like not following me to shopping centers. And he has that certain old-fashioned manliness, if you know what I mean - kind of refreshing in this day and age. But really, I just need some time to sort things out. Yeah, I know what I promised. Sometime before you had my boss start razzing me each morning, telling me what a great guy you are. Pretty clever of you - they even have an office pool going as to whether we'll get back together. They've even taken to reminding me what a loser my ex is every time I go for a cup of coffee. Which I guess is cool, I've cut down on my caffeine intake. But the funny thing is, it seems to make me like my ex more and more - not that'd I'd tie the knot with him again, but still, he's fun to be around, always a goof, one of those sensitive guys. He makes me feel good about myself. Okay, sorry, I'm boring you again. Anyway, what I'm trying to get to is that you just never did it for me. No, sorry, not even then. Yeah, I know - you have a posse that reads like Mambo #5. Fine, it's my fault. But I have a bit of a history too, not that I think of myself as a playa. Barry, Gene, Bobby, Martin. Even Jimmy and Bill. Okay, that's not a lot by your standards, I know you're into the numbers. But they moved me, touched something inside. Yeah, right, "made me wet" as you so nicely put it. What a charmer. But the point is, you didn't. No, it's not 'cause my girlfriends, the "witch coven" as you call them, put me off you. Old-fashioned? Prudes? I guess if your standard is girls in halter-tops lip-syncing videos for you. I was looking for some kind of compromise. But you only seem to do that with your buddies - you call it "playing the dozens", but they've trashed you a million times more than I have. But with me you're always thin-skinned - I make a joke and you go sulking and I have to bolster your ego for the rest of the night. No fun. And for as much as you talk about listening, it seems like you never listen. I bring up an issue and we end up talking about your problems. Yeah, it's a chick thing. We do that. Hadn't you noticed? 30 minutes in the morning doing makeup, and talking about inner feelings. Look it up. Anyway, I don't want to beat this to death. I may make it to the weekend get together, I haven't decided, but even if I do, don't read too much into it. We're not on again. And telling your friends I'd come on my knees begging to get you back was so uncool. Like I need presidential knee-pads? Don't get your hopes up. I've no interest in switching jobs just to ditch you, but that doesn't mean you have to turn the office into a daily cesspool. Or what? Oy, not another blackmail trip. Your abandonment thing coming up again? See a shrink. No, I'm not planning on leaving the company. I can say what I want without "threatening" you, can't I? It's called "speaking my mind". I do it now and then. Anyway, I'll see what I can do for the weekend. I know I "promised" and you'll be in a tight spot without me. Just don't make it too difficult, otay? Nighty-night.

[Please click Recommend & please check out the most recent blogroll recommends at Daily Howler - you'll be glad you did. Molto grazie.]

[Ghost who walks] Advised as always, today Bob Somersby at www.dailyhowler.com talks about how many months it took McCain and Bradley to concede and endorse in 2000, as well as takes us back down memory lane to Hillary's Senate campaign where the press had fun with her being a Cubs/Yankees fan, listening to Gennifer Flowers talk about Hillary killing people, and then going through Hillary's photo album to describe how ugly she used to be. What a bunch of lovable goofs!!! He then returns to recent times, describing who was calling out her cleavage and calling her bitch when in 2007. Seems like only yesterday, such great times. [If it's not the current article, check the archives - stuff from Friday gets confused in my head]

Also, please blogroll digbysblog.blogspot.com and www.firedoglake.com including Empty Wheel at emptywheel.firedoglake.com - the best court/congressional reporter around), and Melissa/Shakesville at shakespearessister.blogspot.com - today she's discussing how a rape victim wasn't allowed to use the word "raped" or "sexual assault" or "victim" or "assailant" on the stand. It's interesting because it reflects the difficulty of discourse in many areas of our political and public lives - somebody may have done something to someone, but we can't quite say what it is but you get our drift. Anyway, go get 'em, tigers. My ghostliness beckons me back into the shadows, rather peeved at me actually.